Chapter 296 - 30: Standing Up

Destiny didn’t wait to hear the rest; she turned on her heel and walked away, her silhouette vanishing around the bend of the corridor leading to the North Wing.

Dane watched her go. He could still feel the warmth of her hand where she had gripped him. His chest felt tight, torn between the urge to run after her and the need to force himself to stay put. He turned around and found himself facing Henrik, whose expression was calm and impassive.

Henrik was leaning against the wall, one leg propped up, his arms crossed.

"I don’t understand," Dane said, rubbing the back of his neck; tension was tightening his jaw. "Vance can’t summon us. We already withdrew from the Choosing Ceremony. The law states she has to choose from the remaining candidates."

Henrik gave him an incredulous look—are you serious?—and rolled his eyes. "To hell with the law! She’s Vance’s daughter. If she wants to play ’Kiss, Kill, or Marry’ with your life, who’s going to stop her?"

"I need to find my mother," Dane muttered. He led Henrik down the marble corridor, moving away from the guards stationed by the archway; their boots echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling as they traversed the dim galleries of the inner keep.

"Will you help me ensure the safety of Destiny and her parents?" Dane asked, lowering his voice as they passed two armories. "Post guards outside their quarters. Send a maidservant to them."

Henrik blinked and adjusted the leather strap across his chest as they walked past the mahogany staircase. "What for?" ...he asked, stepping aside to let a servant pass, carrying a tray of pitchers. "We’re just housing them for now, right? She’s a nomad from the fringes, Dane. You paraded her in front of your father against my advice, and now you want to offer her room service?"

"Just ensure their safety, Henrik. Treat them like nobles, not prisoners," Dane said, stopping near the iron gate that led to the East Wing.

"Fine. Royal treatment for the girl who just cost our pack the most important alliance in its history. My favorite chore." Muttering, Henrik gave Dane a playful shove with his shoulder, his voice softening to a more cautious tone.

"I’ll station two of my best men outside the guest wing. Men who answer only to me, not the Council. But do me a favor: don’t do anything stupid with your mother. At dinner, she looked capable of skinning a bear with a butter knife."

"I make no promises," Dane replied.

They parted ways outside the Council Chamber. Henrik descended the spiral staircase toward the barracks, his footsteps fading into the darkness of the lower levels, while Dane headed for the private quarters and pushed open the heavy oak doors to enter Sonia’s sitting room.

The room was stiflingly hot; a fire burned in the hearth despite the sunlight filtering through the narrow windows. Old tapestries depicting ancient battles adorned the stone walls. Sonia sat by the window on a carved oak chair; her back was turned to him as she gazed out at the courtyard gardens below. A cup of tea, untouched and now cold, sat on the table beside him, an oily film having formed on the surface.

"I will not answer Vance’s summons," Dane declared. The door slammed shut behind him with such violence that it made the floorboards shake. "And I will not marry Aurora."

Sonia didn’t turn around immediately. She took a slow breath—the collar of her dress rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing before finally facing him. Her expression was hard.

"You have no choice, Dane," she said in a flat, icy voice. "Vance controls the mountain trade routes. He holds the iron mines of Kell’s Ridge. If Aurora wants you, you sign the pact; otherwise, our pack will lose its status as a power, and we’ll be driven out of the city before the end of next year. You think you’re making a personal choice. In reality, you’re deciding whether our people have bread on their tables."

"Then I’ll marry Destiny," Dane declared, stepping into the room as his boots sank into the fur rug. "If that’s what it takes to deter Vance and Aurora, I’ll take her to the altar."

Sonia stood up so abruptly that her chair toppled to the floor. "Have you lost your mind? Your father will never accept it. Forget this ridiculous infatuation and do your duty."

"I will never ally myself with Vance," Dane retorted, his voice echoing against the stone walls and old tapestries. "Vance is a tyrant. The moment I put his daughter’s ring on my finger, Bloodmoon becomes a vassal to Silvercrest. He’ll bleed us dry, conscript our men for his vanguard, and turn Father into a puppet holding a judge’s gavel. I hate the man. I’d rather die in a ditch than call him family."

Sonia’s expression suddenly softened. The stiffness in her posture gave way to something older and heavier. She took a step toward him and held out a pale hand, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Dane." Her voice was softer than he had ever heard it. "When the Moon Goddess bound me to your father, I hated the thought of him. He was ruthless. Bitter. Everything about the match felt like a drastic decision forced on me rather than a blessing. I wept for days. I believed my life was over. I thought I was being buried alive under the name Bloodmoon. But for people like us, fate never had anything to do with ease. We learn to build a life out of what is given to us. We learn to bend so we don’t break. We adapt."

"I am not you," Dane said, stepping back before she could touch him. "And I won’t spend the next twenty years living the way you and Father did. I refuse to spend two decades sitting across from someone I view as an adversary, trading icy silence over account ledgers."

He turned away and grasped the iron door ring, ready to open it and step out into the freezing hallway. But he paused in the doorway. His hand trembled against the latch. He turned back to his mother and felt a painful wrenching in his chest—a realization even sharper than anything he had felt during their argument.

"I’ve seen you cold, Mother," he said, the anger fading from his voice to give way to a kind of confusion. "I’ve seen you ruthless when the Council demanded it. But I’ve never heard you speak to anyone the way you spoke to Destiny today. What is going on? Why her?"

Sonia’s lips parted. The color drained from her face. For the first time in his life, Dane saw his mother speechless, her throat tight, as if she were searching for words that refused to come. Before she could speak, a shadow fell across the doorway, blocking out the light from the hall.

Alpha Ramon stepped forward, filling the entire opening. He was no longer holding his ledger. His hands hung at his sides, his iron signet ring catching the firelight. He shifted his gaze from his wife to his son; the atmosphere in the room seemed to suddenly turn icy and thin around him.

He did not shout. He did not raise a hand. He simply stood there, and the air in the living room seemed to vanish.

"She speaks this way," Ramon said in a low voice, "because she knows who that girl’s father really is."