Chapter 44 The North's Arrival

Chapter 44 The North's Arrival

From the doorway to the grand hallway, a thin sheet of ice was spreading across the stone, moving like it was alive. It didn't melt under the heat of the fire, it extinguished the fire one by one.

The flickering orange flames died, replaced by a bright silver glow. Jaxon had stepped out into the corridor moments before the official announcement. He was nervous beyond repair.

He needed a moment from Verena's constant demand and the judgmental eyes of the other Alphas. He was pacing the narrow stone hallway when the world went silent.

Then he saw her.

She walked towards the main hall, her movement so fluid, it seemed she was gliding. She wore a gown that didn't look like fabric. It looked like someone had captured and stitched together crushed diamonds.

But it was the veil that stopped his heart, a curtain of shiny diamonds that hid everything but the predatory intent behind them. Jaxon froze, his back pressed against the cold stone wall.

As she came closer, the air between them turned into a wall of solid cold. He expected a growl or an insult, but there was nothing. For three long seconds, their eyes locked together through the gap of the diamond veil.

Jaxon saw a pair of silver eyes, that looked like liquid moonlight ancient and terrifying. His wolf, that usually roared for dominance, whimpered retreating into the darkest corner of his mind.

The aura that came from this woman was that of a god, a force of nature that made him feel like an insect. She passed him without a word, she didn't even acknowledge his existence.

From behind her, Fenris came into the light. The mad king walked behind her, a huge shadow acting as a guidance. Fenris gave Jaxon a single mocking glance, a look of pure amusement, before following the silent woman into the pavilion.

Jaxon stayed paralyzed in the hallway, his breath a rough gasp. He looked down at his hands, the stone he had been leaning on was now coated with thick layers of frost.

The door to the great pavilion swung open.

The sound of a thousand diamonds clinking together softly and the terrifying thump of Fenris's boots.

The room literally froze. The alphas who had been sitting stood in a panic. Alpha Thorne let out a yelp as the wine in his glass turned to solid ice.

The servants huddled in corners, rubbing their arms and their fingers. Verena stood at the southern table, her face filled with horror. She looked at her own fake emerald, then at the woman entering the room.

The comparison was pathetic. The northern witch was an incarnation of jewels. “So,” Verena whispered, her voice shaking, “the witch finally arrives.”

The woman reached her designated seat at the head of the table, but didn't sit immediately. She stood like a silent pillar of ice looking at everyone in the room.

“They call them the cold and the silence.” A southern councilor whispered, “look at the king. He's… He's like her protector, he follows her everywhere.”

Fenris pulled out the chair for her, his movement was slow and delibrate. When she sat, a shockwave of frost burst out from the base of her seat, running across the floor until it reached the feet of the other alphas.

“My lady,” Alpha Kairos said, bowing so low, his forehead nearly touching the frozen table. “The north has been silent for a long time. We…we welcome your return.”

The silent queen simply turned her veiled head towards him. Kairos choked on his next breath. He sat down abruptly, his face pale.

“We are here for the tribute,” Jaxon shouted, finally entering the room and taking his position opposite them. He was shaking, but covered it with an attitude.

“The south demands compensation. You brought the cold into our very halls while our people starved. You will surrender the frost iron.”

Fenris leaned forward, his hand flat on the table. “You speaking of surrendering, Jaxon, but look around your table. Your people are shivering. Your mate is wearing fake jewelries, your luck is gone.”

Verena slammed her fan on the table. “She hasn't said a word. How can a mute be a queen? She's a puppet, a doll, Fenris, dressed up to scare us.”

Suddenly, the mist in the room swirled. It thickened around the northern queen.

"The doll has a voice, little bird," the queen said, her voice vibrating. "But you should be careful," she continued, her head tilting towards Verena.

"In the north, we don't use fans to hide our fear. We use the wind to bury it." Verena fell back into her chair, her face drained of all color.

She reached for her neck, her fingers rubbing her fake emeralds as if they were choking her.

Jaxon looked at the woman behind the veil, his mind telling him that he knew those eyes, that he had felt that silver light before.

Astraea sat very still, her hands folded in her lap. She could feel Jaxon’s thoughts through the stone. Behind the diamond veil, for the first time in weeks, she smiled.

“The summit is now in session," the arbiter announced, his voice shaking. "Let the discussion begin.”

Jaxon leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped a silver chalice filled with dark wine. He felt a frantic, itching sensation beneath his skin.

He couldn't stop looking at the woman across from him the way she sat, the way her presence filled everywhere.

“You speak of fear.” Jason barked his voice tight with fear. “But you hide behind a veil like a coward.”

“If you are the one responsible for the death of my crops, have the courage to look me in the eye when I demand your head.”

Verena nodded sharply beside him. “Exactly. Show us this monstrosity you are hiding fenris, or is she so ugly that the north had to buy a diamond veil just to keep the servants from fainting?”

Fenris looked at the woman beside him, his expression one of soft devotion. “They want to see your face, my love. They want to see the stain that washed away.”

Astraea gloved hands moved, the sound of the diamond ties loosening, was like the sound of a thousand tiny bells. She reached up her hands, deliberately slow, and pulled the veil away.

The diamond hit the frozen table with a clang. Pin dropped silence followed. Astraea looked up. Her hair was a waterfall of liquid silver that seemed to glow from within. Her skin was flawless as the moon over a frozen lake.

But it was her eyes, those silver eyes, that pinned Jaxon to his seat. “The south always had a problem with It's vision.” Astraea said, her voice wasn't the whisper of a dying girl anymore.

Jaxon's hand jerked. The silver chalice hit his teeth as he tried to take a breath and he began to cough violently.

“As… Astraea,” Jaxon gasped, his face turning a sickle shade of purple as he choked, he scrambled back, his chair falling over.

“No…. no, it's not possible. You are supposed to be dead.”

“But here I am, Jaxon,” she replied.