The Wolf Clan was nothing like the Ice Clan.
The Ice Clan stood in silence. In restraint. In frozen dignity.
But the Wolf lands breathed.
Everything moved.
The towering black pines swayed against the cold winds, their branches whispering overhead like ancient spirits speaking secrets into the mountains. Smoke curled from distant chimneys. Warriors crossed the stone roads with heavy boots and fur-lined cloaks while great horned beasts dragged carts through the snow.
And everywhere—
wolves.
Not ordinary wolves.
Massive creatures roamed the fortress grounds with calm intelligence in their glowing eyes. Their shoulders stood nearly as high as horses, thick fur rippling beneath leather armor and silver markings. Some were black as midnight while others carried pale coats like winter storms.
Elyasan had never seen anything so beautiful.
She slowed near one resting beside a stone staircase.
The creature lifted its enormous head.
Golden eyes met hers.
Her breath caught.
"It is beautiful," she whispered.
"You are the first outsider not to flinch."
Elyasan turned quickly.
Lady Lysandra descended the stairs with impossible grace, silver hair braided over one shoulder and dark blue furs draped elegantly around her body. She looked younger than she should have been. Too beautiful. Too composed.
Her smile was gentle.
But something about her made Elyasan stand straighter.
"I am sorry," Elyasan said softly, lowering her head respectfully.
"There is no need for apologies." Seraphine approached the wolf and placed a gloved hand against its neck. "They can smell fear. Most strangers tremble before them."
The wolf leaned calmly into her touch.
Elyasan watched in fascination.
"It likes you," Lysandra said.
The words surprised her. "Me?"
"Mhm."
The older woman studied her quietly before smiling again.
"No wonder Kaevryn brought you home."
Heat touched Elyasan's cheeks instantly.
Lysandra noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Women like her noticed everything.
"Come," the lady said smoothly. "The seamstresses are waiting. Unless you plan to become crown princess wearing travel furs."
Elyasan followed beside her through the enormous palace halls.
Servants bowed as Lysandra passed.
Not out of affection.
Out of respect.
Fear too, perhaps.
"You seem surprised," Lysandra said suddenly.
"By what?"
"That the Wolf Clan breathes."
Elyasan blinked.
Lysandra smiled faintly. "The kingdoms speak of us as monsters."
Elyasan hesitated before answering carefully. "The kingdoms speak many lies."
That earned her a soft laugh.
"Interesting girl."
They entered a long chamber filled with bolts of fabric, jewels, mirrors, and dress forms. Women hurried instantly at Lysandra's arrival.
Measurements began almost immediately.
Hands touched Elyasan's arms, waist, shoulders.
Silks were held against her skin.
Dark colors mostly.
Silver embroidery.
Furs softer than clouds.
"You have the face for royal colors," one seamstress murmured.
Another nodded quickly. "Especially black."
Lysandra sat nearby with elegant posture, watching silently while tea steamed beside her untouched.
"You will need proper attire for the engagement feast," she said calmly.
Elyasan stiffened slightly.
Engagement.
The word still felt unreal.
A few days ago she had still belonged to the priests.
Now they were dressing her like royalty.
One of the women lifted a silver necklace toward her throat before Lysandra suddenly spoke.
"No silver."
The room froze instantly.
Lysandra's gaze remained on Elyasan.
"Gold suits her better."
The necklace was immediately replaced.
Elyasan swallowed softly.
There was something unsettling about the way the woman watched her.
Like she was studying more than her appearance.
After some time, the seamstresses finally stepped away to prepare more garments, leaving the chamber quieter.
Lysandra lifted her teacup gracefully.
"Tell me," she said lightly, "has Kaevryn frightened you yet?"
Elyasan looked up in surprise.
"No."
"How unusual."
There was amusement in her voice now.
"He frightens most people without trying."
Elyasan looked down at the fabric in her lap.
"He has been kind to me."
Lysandra hummed softly at that.
"Kind."
Something about the word sounded almost tragic coming from her lips.
Elyasan slowly looked back up.
Lysandra's eyes rested on the snowy view beyond the windows now.
"My nephew was not raised for kindness."
The atmosphere shifted.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"He was raised for war," Lysandra continued quietly. "For duty. For sacrifice."
Elyasan remained silent.
"And now," the older woman sighed softly, "he must sacrifice again."
Confusion flickered through Elyasan. "What do you mean?"
Lysandra turned toward her slowly.
For the first time, genuine sadness seemed to touch her face.
"The mating bond."
Elyasan stilled.
Every kingdom knew of it.
The sacred bond blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.
Rare.
Unbreakable.
A true mate.
Seraphine gave her a sympathetic smile.
"You did not know?"
Something cold slid into Elyasan's stomach.
Kaevryn…
Had a mate?
Or could still find one.
The lady looked almost regretful now.
"Poor child."
Elyasan's fingers tightened against the fabric.
"He has not found her yet," Lysandra said softly. "And with the pressure of the throne… marriage became necessary."
The words struck harder than they should have.
Necessary.
Not wanted.
Necessary.
"You must understand," Lysandra continued gently, "if one day he finds his true mate…"
She did not finish the sentence.
She did not need to.
Elyasan heard the ending anyway.
What will become of you?
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Warmer.
Harder to breathe in.
Lysandra's voice softened further. "I simply thought you deserved honesty before giving your heart away completely."
Elyasan forced herself to nod.
Even when her throat hurt.
Even when something inside her quietly cracked.
"I understand."
But she did not.
Not really.
Because suddenly every moment from last night replayed differently in her mind.
The softness in his eyes.
His voice near her ear.
The warmth of his hand against hers.
Had all of it meant less than she thought?
Or worse—
Had it meant nothing at all?
"You are trembling," Lysandra observed softly.
Elyasan quickly clasped her hands together.
"I am fine."
Another gentle smile.
"Of course you are."
Later—
Much later—
After the fittings ended and the palace walls became unbearable, Elyasan wandered outside alone.
Snow crunched softly beneath her boots.
Her chest still ached.
Stupidly.
Painfully.
She should not care this much already.
She barely knew him.
So why did it hurt?
A low sound suddenly pulled her from her thoughts.
Elyasan looked up.
And froze.
Beyond the lower fortress gates, enormous wolves ran freely across the snowfields.
There were at least twenty of them.
Gods.
They were magnificent.
Massive bodies leapt through the snow with terrifying grace, thick fur gleaming beneath the pale daylight. One tackled another playfully while a silver-coated beast rolled onto its back like an oversized pup.
A startled laugh escaped Elyasan before she could stop it.
One of the wolves suddenly lifted its giant head toward her.
Then—
to her complete shock—
it bounded toward the fence.
Elyasan stepped closer despite herself.
The wolf huffed warmly against the wooden barrier, intelligent blue eyes studying her curiously.
"You are enormous," she whispered in awe.
The creature sneezed snow directly onto her face.
Elyasan gasped.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
The wolf wagged its gigantic tail proudly.
"Well," a deep familiar voice came from behind her, "that is the happiest I have seen you all day."
Her smile disappeared instantly.
Kaevryn.
And suddenly Lysandra's words returned like a knife twisting slowly beneath her ribs.