“Lora will escort you to the border,” I reply, noting her shift to formal address in front of others—a shrewd maintenance of the diplomatic distance both our peoples expect.
After she departs, Marcus immediately speaks. “This is dangerously reckless, Zane. Walking straight into their stronghold with only her promise protecting you?”
“Her promise plus centuries of diplomatic precedent. Haven’s Heart values its reputation too highly to violate sanctuary once formally granted.”
“You believe her.” His statement sounds like an accusation.
“I believe in her commitment to peaceful resolution. That’s different.”
“Is it? I’ve watched how you interact with her. Something exists between you beyond diplomatic discussion.”
His bluntness ignites my anger, but I maintain control. “The ambassador is... different from others of her kind. That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my obligations to our people.”
“Make sure you don’t.” His words verge on insubordination. “The younger wolves observe closely. Many wonder if your fascination with the fire panther clouds your judgment.”
I move toward him, my towering frame emphasizing my dominant position. “Tread carefully, Marcus. Questioning your alpha privately is your right as a beta. Undermining me throughout the pack constitutes treason.”
He stands firm physically but lowers his eyes, acknowledging my authority without completely yielding his position.
“I speak only from loyalty,” he says quietly. “We’ve been friends since cubhood. I’ve followed you through challenges that would have broken weaker wolves.”
His sincerity dampens my anger. Marcus has proven his loyalty countless times.
“I don’t ask for blind obedience,” I tell him. “Only that you bring concerns directly to me instead of spreading doubt through the pack.”
He dips his head in acceptance. “I’ll choose our four strongest warriors for tomorrow’s escort.”
After he leaves, I head to the training grounds, seeking physical exertion to order my thoughts. The younger wolves practice combat maneuvers under Elder Kota’s supervision. Without announcement, I join them, challenging three warriors simultaneously.
They attack with coordinated precision, exactly as I’ve trained them. Today, I fight with exceptional intensity, fueled by frustration over Marcus’s accusations and my confusing reactions to the fire panther. The session ends with all three opponents pinned and yielding.
Elder Kota approaches as I release the last challenger. “You fight with divided attention, Alpha. Dangerous.”
“Or inspiring,” I counter, accepting the water skin he offers.
“The ambassador brings interesting developments.”
“She does.”
“And interesting responses from you.” He pitches his voice for my ears alone. “I knew your grandfather intimately, Zane. He had that same expression when he first caught your grandmother’s scent.”
I nearly choke mid-swallow. “That’s not?—”
He lifts his palm, interrupting me. “I make no accusations. Merely an observation from an old wolf who has witnessed many mating bonds form across the seasons. Sometimes between the most improbable pairs.”
Before I can respond, he walks away to correct a young warrior’s stance, leaving me with unwelcome thoughts. The idea that what I feel around Ember might indicate the beginning of a mate bond disturbs me deeply. Impossible. Wild shifters don’t bond with domesticated ones.
Yet I cannot deny the strange awareness that thrums through me in her presence, how her scent lingers in my mind long after she’s gone. The unexpected respect I feel for her intelligence and courage.
I push these thoughts aside and concentrate on tomorrow’s council meeting. I spend the afternoon reviewing our territorial claims with the elders, committing to memory the exact boundaries shown on the ancient maps.
Darkness falls, and I withdraw to my private shelter, though sleep remains elusive. The prospect of entering Haven’s Heart—the symbolic heart of everything that robbed us of our lands and imprisoned my people behind magical barriers—fills me with conflicting emotions. Fury at historical injustices battles with the practical recognition of potential diplomatic gains.
And beneath all this swirls anticipation at seeing Ember again—a feeling I refuse to examine too deeply.
First light finds me after a night of broken sleep. I dress in Shadow Wolf formal attire—clean leather pants, a vest of finely worked hide adorned with clan symbols, and my father’s silver claw pendant. My only weapon is the ceremonial knife all alphas traditionally carry.
Marcus waits with four warriors—Lora, Kel, Jace, andSoren. Each wears the formal garb of pack protectors, their expressions grave with responsibility.
