The warriors with the bloody red streaks. I frown.
Every single one of them looks like they’re just waiting to tear someone’s throat out with their teeth. They’re even larger than the rest, buzzing with an energy that I’d assume was nervousness if their eyes weren’t so keen. I’m pretty sure they’re just restless to fight something.
Unsurprisingly, Jonah’s in that group, glaring out at everyone.
“Lastly, there’s the Phylax, or the guardians,” Izabel goes on, gesturing to the calmer looking group where Henrey stands with his hands resting passively on his hips.
So leaders, spies, warriors, and guardians. “Roles in combat?”
“Sort of. But it also has to do with pack dynamics, culture, and even the wolves’ demeanors,” she says. “Each of us has our purpose, and we work together. In theory.”
I’d been starting to lean into the intrigue of it all. The inner workings of this privileged, exclusive part of society that alwaysloomed over those of us toiling below. But that one word,purpose, jars me from my curiosity.
Saela is my purpose, not leading a bunch of pompous, overly cocky Rawbonds.
I have more important questions to ask. Like,how the fuck do I get out of this and reach the front lines?
But before I can start interrogating Izabel about how difficult it may or may not be to wriggle out of this particular sort of enlistment—specifically, how possible it might be to break my bond without dying—the metal gate we all entered through clangs loudly, the sound echoing over stone.
We all fall silent as the woman who admitted us strides forward, frowning slightly. “That’s it, then!” she announces, voice carrying. “Sundown. Let’s get you to your quarters.”
One look at the darkening sky and I realize that she’s right. The day’s over. Anyone still beyond those gates is probably dead.
I give myself only a moment to think of the lost, then the high-ranking Bonded woman sweeps past us, speaking loudly and quickly as she walks. “I am Egith Hartsfeld, Beta of the Strategos pack,” she says without looking at any of us.
The group of Rawbonds startles and stumbles after her, trailing after her authority without needing to be told. I try to work through the term she just used.
Beta, she said. But apart from knowing the Alphas are in charge, I don’t know anything about Bonded terminology, and it passes right over my head.
I take it that she’s someone important, though.
We head to the eastern part of the courtyard where the Kryptos pack waits, all funneling through the colonnade and into the interior of the castle. The wide wooden door creaks open before Egith as she approaches it, and I realize belatedly that there are two men standing on the other side, pulling it open for her.
But how long were they standing there? Is that all they do? Are they just paid tostandthere and wait to open the door for the all-important Bonded?
Egith talks while she walks, not bothering to look back to see if she’s being followed. “This half of the castle was constructed for Rawbond training. We train here, in close proximity to the king, so that he is able to keep an eye on the progress.”
An entire half of the castle is dedicated to training? I had no idea. And italllooks like this? Goddess.
When I step inside, a wave of welcoming warmth envelops me. There must be a hundred hearths crackling within these walls to keep the cold out so efficiently. Everything is polished and gleaming, even the exposed stone of the walls. The floor gleams beneath our messy boots.
More imposing statues flank the walls of the entryway, faces of what I presume are renowned Bonded staring down as if they’re assessing us.
Izabel looks unbothered, eyes glued to Egith as we delve deeper into the castle, but this is alltoo much.
Disbelief simmers in my gut.
There’s no need for any of this opulence. The deeper rooms of the castle’s interior warm further, walls covered in paneled, rich wood. Tapestries hang on every surface, woven with gold and silver threads, each depicting direwolves, elaborate crowns, or swirling designs that look like snowdrifts and stormy clouds.
The hostile, cold stone turns to marble and high, vaulted ceilings with carved wooden support beams. Everything is just as wide open as the courtyard, with massive arched doorways and floor-to-ceiling windows with intricate latticework. The halls are lit with flickering oil lamps, warm light pooling over shining marble and the excited faces of the other Rawbonds.
“Youdo notleave this half of the castle,” Egith says, her voice echoing through the halls alongside the blunted sound ofour many footsteps. “The other half is for the royal family and you are forbidden from stepping foot in it except on special occasions.”
It seems impossible to me that there’s a part of the world that possesses this much obvious wealth. The hallway we’re walking through is wider than the streets back home.
“As you can see, our half of the castle was built for wolves to be able to navigate it,” Egith says, gesturing to a tall doorway as we pass it by.
“Whereareour wolves?” Henrey pipes up from nearby.
