STARK
From the petulant looks on Lord and Lady Volkenfrost’s faces, you’d think I was dragging them to Sturmfrost for a funeral, not a massive party.
As we reach the edges of the city, Cratos bounds faster to ride up next to Ephyse and Noemi. We’ve been traveling more slowly than the direwolves are comfortable with for the past couple of days, all because the nobles have to ride slow horses.
“Can’t wait to get rid of these sour fucks,” I tell her, inclining my head behind us to the large Volkenfrost party.
She glances behind us, then raises her eyebrows at me, lips pursed.
“What?” I growl. “They’ve been silent all day.”
Noemi stifles a laugh. “It’s probably hard to think of anything to say when the big bad Daemos Alpha and his direwolf are glaring at you all the time.”
I scoff. “This is just the way my face looks. You know that.”
“If you say so, grouchy,” she says. “Look, we’re basically at their dusty and underused Sturmfrost residence. I’ll see them all the way there. Why don’t you head back to the castle?”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Cratos and I take off quickly in that direction. Within a few minutes, the castle is on the horizon. I dismount and stalk into it as Cratos peels off to find Anassa.
The first order of business is reporting to Siegrid. As her door swings open, I note that her redecorating project has sped along. Gone are the ridiculous hunting trophies from the walls, along with the spindly, showy furniture favored by the Valtieres.
In its place, Siegrid appears to have fully moved into the regent’s chambers. A tapestry from her house that features our family seal is on one wall, and thick curtains in the Therion colors, scarlet and white, are at each window.
They hold no sentimental meaning to me. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve been in her house in the Bonded City.
“I hear the Volkenfrost delegation is as sizable as we’d hoped,” Siegrid says in lieu of a welcome.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Hand-delivered to you, all body parts still intact, as ordered.”
Human body parts, at least.
Last night at the camp, I overheard Lord Erlyn Volkenfrost discussing coronation traditions with some of his male courtiers.
Apparently, the new monarch typically strips down naked in front of the entire congregation to humble themselves before the Faceless Goddess. While naked, the Mother Priestess anoints them with sacred oils.
“Cyril Valtiere wasn’t a bad-looking man, I can say that,” Erlyn boasted. “But just wait until our firm, young queen is displayed before us, rubbed down in oil for our pleasure. How humiliating and delicious it will be.”
I didn’t have to act; Cratos took care of it.
Before I could stop him, Cratos dragged Lord Volkenfrost’s spare mount into the firelight. Then, as Erlyn’s face paled in shock, Cratos ate the horse.
It was brutal and cruel, but even I can’t stop wolf instincts.
“My direwolf does not appreciate the idea of our new queen being humiliated,” I said lightly as Erlyn retched into the fire. “I recommend you keep that in mind before recounting any other traditions you’d like to see reenacted.”
Now, I look across the room to the Sovereign Alpha. She’s seated at the dining table amid a pile of parchment and a half-eaten breakfast of bread and fruit. Despite the early hour, she’s perfectly coiffed and in her military uniform already.
I wonder if she sleeps in it. Siegrid would never let someone see her dressed casually; she allows for no vulnerabilities. Not even for her son.
“How are the coronation preparations coming along?” I ask, curious if Cratos will try to eat any more noble steeds before this has ended.
Siegrid sighs. “Mostly fine, although the queen has rejected several of the usual traditions. She has agreed to be anointed in oil”—I still, my blood starting to heat—“but she’s refusing to undress for it, and the Mother Priestess is greatly offended. Still, we’ll get through the day.”
Siegrid doesn’t look up, still focused on the papers in front of her. She signs off on the order she was writing out, then pulls up another paper and begins scanning it while she talks.
“Anyone give you trouble in the other fiefdoms?”
“No more than we expected,” I reply, sitting across from her and pouring myself some lukewarm coffee. “Eisenfall’s still a boorish asshole. But he’s coming. Blumenfall’s playing it close to the chest, like usual. The rest of them will all be there. It’ll be a full room, as you wanted.”
