Chapter 1
Lyall
Iceland, year 821
The flaming arrow arcs through the sky and lands on the pyre, setting the wood aflame. I can’t bring myself to watch as the fire consumes my father’s body.
Alpha Erik, son of Thorin and Freda, is dead.
Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I fear weeping will make me look weak. I’m eighteen, my father is dead, and it’s time for me to be a man. But how can I when our family is torn to pieces?
Yesterday I wed the man I love. I feasted with my family, not knowing it would be our last meal with Father. Gunnar, next oldest after Anders and me, had cooed over his son, my nephew, sweet baby Bjorn, while his chosen mate Leif had cradled the little lad in his arms. Anders, my twin, had teased Wulfric, our youngest brother, as he always did. Father had chastised him, but always with patience.
I’d danced until my feet hurt, drank mead until my head swam, and laughed myself hoarse. It had truly been thebest day of my life. Before I’d left to claim my mate, Father had taken me aside and cupped the nape of my neck.
He said, “I’m proud of you, son. I wish you nothing but happiness.”
Blushing, I’d pushed him off before my brothers could see and tease me mercilessly.
If I’d known Father would never touch me again, that only hours later he would be killed on the very beach where my brothers and I had run and played and hunted together… I’d have held on to him and never let him go.
When I was a lad, Father had told me that because we were ulfhednar, there would be those who wouldn’t understand the great gift of change bestowed upon us by Fenrir. He’d told me that humans would hate and fear us. He’d been very strict about how far we could stray from the village in our wolf forms and told us to never prey upon livestock from the neighboring villages. We were never to attract attention to ourselves.
As the years passed and trade prospered between us and the human villages, I’d thought we’d succeeded. I had been more wrong than I could have imagined.
Only hours before my wedding, human missionaries had come to our village. The missionaries’ leader, a man named Thorald, had brought chests of gold and a strange offer: if we would abandon our pagan gods and accept their Christian god, we would be rewarded with wealth.
Father had politely refused. Although we worshipped many gods, we were most devout to Fenrir. We were loyal to him, and he rewarded us with the gift of the change. Father had feared that by worshipping other gods, we would displease Fenrir and lose his boon. Thorald had smiled as best he could with that scar on his lip and seemed to respect Father’s answer. I had wondered at the time how a man of the cloth had gotten such an injury.
Thorald took his missionaries and left… or so we’d thought.
The next time I saw Thorald, he’d donned the armor of a hunter and was holding his blade to my neck. He’d been no man of god, but a hunter in disguise, and we’d unknowingly welcomed him and his men into our village.
Father and Wulfric had beaten the hunters back to the shore, but Father fell in battle. I know Wulfric must blame himself, but I believe he did the best he could. Anders had been tortured until he almost lost himself to his berserker’s feral rage. Baby Bjorn and Leif had been cut down right before Gunnar’s eyes. Whatmonsterscould kill a defenseless child? What was my sweet nephew’s crime but to be the child of wolves? He’d never harmed anyone.
Wulfric turns to face the crowd. Father’s black wolf furs look too big for his narrow shoulders, too heavy. Gods, but I ache for my little brother. He inherited the power of the Alpha from our father’s bloodline. We always knew that someday Wulfric would lead our pack as Father andMother had. It wasn’t supposed to be this soon. He’s still just a boy. He deserved the time to be a child while he still could. Now that’s been robbed from him too.
“I swear to you all,” Wulfric says, hands in fists that tremble at his sides, “I will help lead our pack out of this darkness. We will heal and come back from this terrible loss. I will honor Father’s memory and be the Alpha you all deserve.” There’s a crack in his voice I can’t miss. I wonder if he even believes his own words.
Before I can stop myself, I go to him. Gunnar follows and the pair of us put our arms around our little brother. “You won’t be alone, Wulfric,” I promise him. “I swear, we will be with you every step of the way.”
Gunnar doesn’t speak, just bumps his forehead against Wulfric’s shoulder. The gesture is far too animalistic, and his silence scares me. Gunnar watched his mate and child be killed before his eyes. I fear what such trauma will do to his mind, but most of all to his wolf. Since we found him cradling the bodies of his family, he hasn’t spoken a word. It frightens me.
“Thank you,” Wulfric says, voice thick.
The only one who hasn’t moved is Anders. Hands in fists, he looks at Wulfric with unbridled contempt. An enraged wolf, ready to strike.
My heart is heavy in my chest as I stop outside the basement door. Upstairs my brothers and aunt move through the longhouse. Will I ever stop expecting to see Father moving through our home, to hear his rare but booming laugh and deep voice?
Blinking fast, I unlock the door. I thought my heart had already been broken by the tragedy that struck our family. The sight of Soren, my childhood friend, mymate,chained to the wall like a common thief shatters my heart to pieces.
I have never seen Soren so broken, not since that day all those years ago when Father returned from a voyage at sea with him. He’d been orphaned after wolves attacked his village, leaving him the sole survivor. Even so, he overcame his fear and decided to become ulfhednar when he came of age. For me. The furs he fought so hard to earn have been taken away, leaving him as weak and vulnerable as a human.
A broken whine escapes me when his wet, red-rimmed eyes find mine.
“Lyall,” he croaks, tears flowing, “oh, Lyall…”
I only take a few steps before I am on my knees and my arms are around Soren. Sobs I’ve been fighting back all day rattle my chest.
