carried across 72

 

72 Defiance 

Sera 

“Stop fidgeting with the laces,” Mina said. She slapped my hand away from my waist. 

“They are too tight,” I told her. I shifted my weight in the freezing stone corridor, grimacing as the dark leather pulled against my bruised thigh. “I can barely take a full breath.” 

“You are not supposed to take a full breath,” Mina replied. She grabbed the collar of my heavy dark wool tunic and yanked it straight. “You are supposed to look like you own the room. And you do. You look like a warlord’s mate. Now keep your chin up and stop touching your hair.” 

I dropped my hands to my sides. I looked at the massive black iron doors of the Great Hall looming ten feet in front of us. The muffled roar of hundreds of voices bled through the thick oak. 

“Are they going to stare?” I asked. 

“Every single one of them,” Mina said. She gave me a bright, completely unapologetic grin. “Let them.” 

She stepped back. She looked at the two massive Ironmaw guards flanking the entrance. One of them, a man with a jagged scar cutting through his thick beard, gave me a look, 

He didn’t sneer. He reached out, grabbed the heavy iron ring, and hauled the door open for me. 

The noise hit me instantly. 

The Great Hall sounded like an army camp on the eve of a war. Hundreds of wolves sat shoulder-to- shoulder at long wooden tables. Massive stone fire pits roared down the center aisle. The air was thick, smelling of roasted venison, spilled dark ale, and woodsmoke. 

stepped over the threshold. 

The immediate area around the doors went quiet. The silence spread rapidly down the long tables. Men and women stopped talking in mid-sentence. They lowered their iron cups. They turned their heads to look at me. 

I felt the weight of their eyes dragging over my skin. I knew exactly what they saw, but nobody laughed. A few of the older warriors sitting at the closest tables simply tapped their heavy knuckles twice against the wood as I walked past them. 

I didn’t bow my head. I locked my knees to hide the lingering ache in my leg, and walked directly down the center aisle toward the raised dais at the back of the room. 

The High Table was carved from a single, massive oak tree. 

Fenris sat directly in the center. He wore a dark grey tunic and a heavy black wolf pelt. He held an iron cup in his right hand. I watched his grey eyes track my movements as I climbed the three stone steps to the dais. He looked at the tight fit of the leather pants. He looked at the thick wool covering my chest. He didn’t say a word, but the thick muscle in his jaw flexed hard under his skin. 

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The heavy wooden chair to his immediate right was empty. 

I pulled it back and sat down right next to him. The heat radiating from his massive body immediately washed over my left side. 

I looked down the table. My mother and Lord Torin sat to my left. Further down sat Chief Vane, an older, heavily scarred elder tearing into a piece of meat. Kael sat at the very end. He glared at me, his face tight with absolute hatred. Taya was not at the table. 

My mother leaned forward. Her face was completely pale. She stared at my clothes. 

“Seraphina,” my mother hissed under her breath. She kept her voice low so the surrounding guards wouldn’t hear. “What are you wearing? You look like a common mercenary. Where are your silks?” 

“They are in the fire,” I replied. I reached forward and grabbed a thick slice of roasted meat from the wooden platter in front of me. I was starving. 

My mother opened her mouth, her face flushing with anger, but Torin placed a firm hand on her forearm. He squeezed her wrist, silencing her. 

Torin looked exhausted. The skin under his eyes was bruised with lack of sleep, but his gaze was sharp. He leaned forward, looking past me to address Fenris directly. 

“Alpha Volkov,” Torin said. He pitched his voice to carry over the low roar of the hall. “The King sent a raven this morning. The Valdris army is securing the southern mountain passes. We are moving forward with the timeline.” 

Fenris picked up his iron cup. He took a long drink of dark ale. He didn’t look at Torin. “The border is secure. Keep your men on your side of the river.” 

Torin watched Fenris’s face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He leaned in a fraction closer. 

“King Aldric expects complete compliance regarding the river taxes, Alpha. The treaty relies on it.” 

I stopped chewing. I swallowed the meat, staring at Torin. It was a bizarre choice of words. You do not demand compliance from an Ironmaw Alpha in the middle of his own Great Hall. You negotiate. You don’t speak to him like a disobedient servant. 

Fenris didn’t react to the word. He set his cup down heavily. “The taxes will be split as agreed. Not a copper more.” 

Torin didn’t back down. His eyes stayed locked entirely on Fenris’s face, staring directly into the Alpha’s pupils. 

“The King views this alliance as an awakening for the entire continent,” Torin continued. His voice took on a strange, rhythmic cadence. “A new era of order. But it demands absolute submission to the agreed borders.” 

Compliance. Awakening. Absolute submission. 

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+25 Bonus 

I frowned. I looked from Torin to Fenris. Torin sounded like a desperate priest reciting a holy text, not a political advisor discussing a trade route. It felt entirely out of place. He was testing something. 

Fenris just looked deeply irritated. He turned his head slowly and stared Torin down. The sheer predatory weight in his grey eyes made Torin swallow hard. 

“I do not submit to southern kings, Torin,” Fenris rumbled. His voice dropped into a deadly, vibrating register. “I do not submit to anyone. Watch your tongue at my table, or I will remove it from your mouth.” 

Torin blinked rapidly, breaking eye contact. His chest heaved with a sudden breath. He realized he had pushed too far. He quickly pivoted his strategy to deflect the Alpha’s rising anger. 

“Forgive me, Alpha. I merely meant we require stability,” Torin said smoothly, his diplomatic mask sliding back into place. He glanced down at the dark bruising on my jaw, a sneer curling his upper lip. ” Especially after the local traditions disrupted the peace yesterday. It was a barbaric spectacle.” 

Fenris’s right hand dropped from the table. I saw his fingers brush the heavy iron pommel of the hunting knife strapped to his thigh. 

I didn’t let him draw it. 

I dropped my half-eaten meat onto the wooden plate. It hit the wood with a loud smack. 

“You handle your disputes with gold and daughters, Lord Torin,” I said. 

My voice was not loud, but it was cold. Absolute. It cut cleanly through the ambient noise of the High Table. Chief Vane stopped chewing and turned his head to look at me. Kael narrowed his eyes. 

Torin looked at me, genuinely shocked that I spoke out of turn. “Princess, you forget yourself.” 

“I remember exactly who I am,” I said. I turned my head and locked eyes with him. I stripped away every ounce of southern politeness I had ever been taught. “I remember standing in the dirt ring yesterday while you screamed and begged for my life because you were too weak to defend it yourself.” 

My mother gasped loudly, pressing her hand against her chest. “Sera! Stop this instantly.” 

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