The next fewdays pass in a haze of confusion and mounting tension. The Sovereign Alpha is coming, and my pack is in mourning.
For me, Alpha Markos was a stranger. Through the pack bond and Anassa, I could sense a connection to him, but he was not an important figure to me personally. For the other Rawbonds, however, things are different. They grew up knowing who he was. Many of their parents are also Strategos who fought alongside him.
He was Kristof’s uncle. He was Egith’s close friend.
And the wolves are in disarray over the loss of their alpha wolf, Markos’s mount. The depth of their sorrow fills our headsat all times. I wish, desperately, that I could block some of it out. But I wouldn’t dare piss Anassa off again like that.
She’s still barely talking to me. I can’t find it in myself to try to diminish the blows she keeps giving me.
That night with Killian was perfect. I wouldn’t take it back, and a knot of anxiety that I’ve been carrying has disappeared, now that everyone knows about us. But the pack is still keeping their distance, and Izabel has been taking Anassa’s strategy—she’s frozen me out.
Egith maintains order efficiently, but everyone can sense that she’s waiting for the Sovereign Alpha to arrive. Today, we’re in group combat training with Phylax, overseen by Egith and Stark. We’re practicing swordplay on foot, giving the direwolves a rest.
It’s been unrelenting. Everyone’s trying to get a hit in on me. And when they’re not aiming for me, they’re testing Henrey, the only other common-born.
During a much needed break, I greedily gulp freezing water from my flask off to the side. There are a few other Strategos Rawbonds gossiping near me, but at arm’s length.
“I think it’s going to be Egith,” Pietr says quietly as he caps his flask.
Allegra cocks her head, staring at the Beta from across the training field. “You’re probably right. Is it always the second-in-command? I can’t remember.”
Pietr shrugs. “Usually. Unless there are special circumstances. Like, you know?—”
“Nepotism,” I mutter, looking at Stark. I haven’t forgotten that hismotheris the fearsome Sovereign Alpha coming to terrify us all into good behavior. Pietr and Allegra shoot me irritated looks and stalk off.
“What was that about?” Henrey says, coming to take a break next to me at the wall, sweat beading on his forehead.
“My whole pack hates me, haven’t you heard?” I ask, trying to laugh it off. It stings, though.
Henrey reddens. “Well… yeah. I’ve heard some things, I guess. But ignore them, Meryn. You’re strong. That’ll win them over, in the end.”
I clap him on the back. “Thanks for taking time to chat with a friendship-starved outcast.”
He raises his water flask to me, a lopsided grin on his face. “We outcasts have to stick together.”
Re-energized, I cork my flask, tossing it down into the dirt in exchange for my sword. I spin it around my right hand and lift my head.
I don’t have to ask if Izabel is ready. She’s already advancing on me, brandishing her own blade. Her dark brown eyes are narrowed, black hair whipping out of its braid in the cold winter wind.
Sword practice on foot is infinitely easier than mounted practice. Normally, I’d probably be enjoying the methodical movements and the satisfying feeling of pushing my muscles to perform.
But not when my closest friend in this entire castle is trying to gut me in the training yard.
Izabel hits her sword against mine with enough strength that it reverberates through my arm. She has the upper hand, and she draws and parries again. And again.
I can’t get my footing quickly enough and she’s unrelenting.
She’s always been a better swordsperson than I am; she’s had a lifetime of training. Usually, though, she takes it kind of easy on me. She’ll pause and show me what I’m doing wrong, or let me get a few hits on her.
Not today.
She thwacks me in my right arm so hard that I drop my practice sword, and before I can even grab it, she sticks the tip of the practice sword under my chin.
“Dead,” she says, a bitter glint in her eyes.
I grab the dull wooden sword by the hilt and yank it from her hands, tossing it into the ground next to my own.
“What has gotten into you?” I hiss at her.
