“Well.” Siegrid’s voice is brisk. “This may not be a consolation, but you should know that the Bonded disagree with Igor’s assessment. Word has spread at the battlefront and throughout the Bonded City. People are impressed by what you’ve done and the swift vengeance you took on behalf of one of our own.”
Nevah nods lightly. “My family has thrown in for you now.”
Siegrid’s right; it’snota consolation. It’s a reminder that those with pack instincts will value ruthlessness and loyalty, even at the risk of alienating the rest of the population.
Igor’s lips thin in disapproval, and he looks away from me.
Is this the fate of a Bonded queen? To be just another face of violence and destruction? How do I balance it all?
“Still,” Siegrid continues, “I agree that you should have kept your power on a tight leash. But what’s done is done. Let’s turn to the task at hand instead of losing more time. The councilor vacancy?”
“It should be Igor,” I say quietly. His eyes snap back up, brows furrowed.
Igor shakes his head firmly. “No, Meryn. I don’t have the experience or knowledge to do the job justice.”
“I agree,” Siegrid chimes in. “The position should be held by a noble family.”
Of course she believes that. “Which one do you recommend, then, Siegrid?” I ask bitterly.
She doesn’t respond.
“We do not know which noble families will remain loyal to us.” I’m onlysaying what everyone else here is thinking. “In the meantime, someone needs to immediately take over leadership of the city. We will spend time vetting proper candidates and choose the councilor’s replacement with appropriate consideration. Until then, I’d like Igor to take the position temporarily. I know I can trust him, and that’s all that matters at this moment.”
The silence in the room is stiff, stretching on indefinitely.
Eventually, Igor sighs, placing his meaty hands on the table. “Fine, Alley Cat,” he says, using the nickname he gave me as a child. “I’ll do it, for now, but we start looking for a new permanent councilor right away.”
Siegrid shrugs. “It’s settled then. Let’s turn to the war effort.” She leafs through the pile of parchment on the table. “I’ll depart tomorrow to rejoin our forces at Linsfall.”
I hope my relief at the thought of Siegrid returning to the front isn’t too obvious.
Igor and Siegrid get into a detailed conversation about troop deployment and training schedules, Igor making sure he understands the finer points of the army conscription, a responsibility the Councilor of Sturmfrost has always been at least nominally responsible for.
As good a place as any for Igor to start taking a more active role.
I scrub my hands across my face, my exhaustion and frustration merging into a murky fog that makes everything seem blurry and slightly distant.
We’re on our last topic of the day—some appointments that the Matron wants to make in the castle’s guard. It’s apparently a separate force from the army or the Bonded, something I probably should have known.
And then hell breaks loose.
Siegrid feels it first, standing up with such violence that her chair skitters backward and tips over with a crash.
Genicos, her wolf, races to her side, growling and bristling.
I reach for Anassa mentally, and that’s when I sense it, too: a break, huge and terrifying. As if a giant axe were reaching into that mental sea where I connect to the rest of the Bonded and slashing down, hacking off an entire river, as painful as hacking off a limb.
“What is it?” I ask Anassa urgently, panicky. Not understanding it, my head pounding and my vision hazy at the enormity of what’s happened.
Anassa also leaps to her feet, hackles raised and fur standing on end.
Nevah pushes back from the table, too, a sickened expression on her face.
The un-Bonded at the table look around warily, unable to sense what we’ve all felt.
What I’m only just starting to understand.
“It’s—it’s the Phylax pack,” Siegrid chokes out, the first to put it to words. “They’ve all…”
