Chapter 29 A Fragile Peace
CHAPTER 29: A Fragile Peace
Seraphine's POV
My arms were locked around Aric’s neck, my face buried in the thick, surprisingly soft fur of his wolf form. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to any god that might be listening for this to be over.
The sheer power of the muscles moving beneath me was both awe-inspiring and utterly nauseating. Each leap over a fallen log, each earth-shaking bound, felt like we were flying and falling at the same time.
Just get there, just get there, just get there, I chanted in my head, a desperate mantra against the vertigo. I need to get off this overgrown dog’s back before I’m sick.
But beneath the terror, something else was stirring, a traitorous heat in my belly. The scent of him—wild pine, cold night air, and pure, untamed strength—was everywhere, filling my lungs with every gasping breath I managed to take. The solid warmth of him, the way my body was molded against his… it was doing things to me. Inappropriate things.
Stop it, you fool, I scolded myself, digging my fingers deeper into his fur. He’s the enemy. He’s a beast. He’s the one who forced you from your home. Get a grip! But my body wasn’t listening to my mind. It was reacting to the raw, primal promise in his scent, a promise the mate bond was screaming about. It was utterly infuriating.
Just as I thought I might truly scream from the sensory overload, I felt the rhythm change. The breathtaking speed lessened to a lope, then a trot. I dared to crack my eyes open.
The dizzying forest was giving way to a wide, sunlit clearing. In the center stood a solitary stone cottage, smoke curling lazily from its chimney. And surrounding it were soldiers. Human soldiers. My people.
A wave of relief so potent it made me weak washed over me. We were here. I could get off.
Aric came to a complete stop, and I practically fell off his back, my legs wobbling as I found my footing on solid, unmoving ground. I took a deep breath of air that didn’t smell like him.
That’s when I noticed the silence. And the stares.
The human soldiers weren’t looking at their Lycan counterparts. They were staring at me. Their eyes were wide, first with surprise, then with something that looked an awful lot like hurt. Betrayal. I saw it on their faces, clear as day: She rode in on the Lycan King’s back. She’s one of them now.
My cheeks burned. I wanted to shout at them, to explain that I had no choice, that the carriage was destroyed, that it was this or be left behind. But the words stuck in my throat under the weight of their judgment.
All around me, the massive Lycan wolves began to shift. It was a sound of cracking bone and reforming flesh that still turned my stomach, but I was getting used to it. In moments, Aric and Caspian stood there, pulling on cloaks that were swiftly handed to them by their guards.
Aric’s gaze found mine for a split second—a look that was still angry, but now layered with something else I couldn’t decipher—before he turned and strode toward the cottage, Caspian and two of his guards falling in behind him.
I had no choice but to follow.
Inside, the cottage was cramped and smoky. Seated at a rough-hewn wooden table was King Theron Greyjoy, my king, though the title felt hollow now. Beside him sat his advisor, the ever-scheming Rowan, and two of the king’s personal guards. Their eyes snapped to us as we entered.
King Greyjoy’s eyebrows shot up.
“King Aric. We were told to expect you and your Beta.” His eyes flicked to me, lingering with clear disapproval. “Not… a full delegation. And my former ward.”
Rowan’s smile was thin and unpleasant.
“Indeed. An unexpected… addition.”
Aric didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“Our transport was destroyed by an ambush on the road. Circumstances have changed. We proceed anyway.”
The greetings that followed were so stiff and formal you could have chipped ice with them. You could feel the generations of bad blood sucking the air out of the small room.
King Greyjoy didn’t waste time.
“We are here because we believe you are breaking the peace treaty, King Aric. The treaty that was sealed by the offering of Seraphine’s hand. Our scouts report Lycans attacking border villages. Innocent women and children torn apart. This is an act of war.”
I saw Aric’s jaw tighten.
“They are not my Lycans.”
“Oh?” Rowan sneered. “Then whose are they? Do you not control your beasts?”
Caspian took a half-step forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but Aric held up a hand.
“The creatures attacking your villages, and our outposts, are called grimhowls,” Aric said, his voice dangerously calm. “They are mindless, savage beasts, thought to be extinct. They have returned. My own retinue was attacked by a pack of them just hours ago on the royal road. They are a threat to us all.”
“A convenient story,” King Greyjoy said, waving a dismissive hand. “Monsters from fairy tales? We are to believe that while our people die?”
“It’s the truth!” Caspian insisted, his frustration boiling over. “They attack us almost daily! They fight with a ferocity we’ve never seen. They are not controlled, they are... rabid.”
“We see only wolves,” Rowan said flatly. “And we hold you accountable. If these attacks do not cease, the treaty is void. The war will continue.”
My heart was pounding. They weren’t listening. They were so blinded by their hatred, so sure of Lycan treachery, that they wouldn’t even consider the truth. And the more I listened to Aric and Caspian describe the grimhowls—their mindless rage, their strange coordination—the more a terrible, nagging thought solidified in my own mind. A thought so alarming it made my blood run cold.
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.
“They’re telling the truth,” I said, my voice cutting through the tension.
The room went dead silent. All eyes turned to me. The human faces were a mask of shock and utter betrayal.
“Seraphine?” King Greyjoy said, his tone icy. “What are you doing?”
“I am telling you what I know,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I am not siding with Lycans against humans. I’m siding with the truth. I’ve seen these grimhowls. I fought them myself during the ambush. They are not Lycans. Trust me, I would know.” I looked directly at my king, begging him to hear me. “The Lycans fight with strategy and discipline. These things… they are only destruction. They are monsters. King Aric did not order these attacks.”
The silence that followed was heavier than before. Rowan looked furious, but King Greyjoy was studying me, then Aric, then back to me. He saw the certainty on my face. He saw the fresh scrapes on my hands from the fight. He also saw the way I’d arrived, on the back of the beast-king himself. A complicated calculation was happening behind his eyes.
Finally, he let out a long, weary breath.
“Your… corroboration is… noted.” He stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the stone floor. “The peace treaty still holds. For now. But we will be watching, Aric. Closely.”
He didn’t look at me again. Neither did Rowan. They swept out of the cottage with their guards, leaving me standing there feeling like I’d just been publicly disowned.
A hollow ache opened up in my chest. My own kind, my former guardian, couldn’t even look at me. To them, I was Lycan now. The thought made me feel profoundly alone.
As the door shut behind them, the tension in the room broke. The Lycan guards relaxed their postures slightly. Caspian gave me a long, unreadable look before turning to discuss something with his men.
Aric walked over to me. His expression was softer than I’d ever seen it.
“Seraphine,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you. What you did in there… it took courage.”
His gratitude, his soft tone, it rubbed against my raw nerves. He was thanking me for betraying my people, for validating him. The anger that had been simmering since the ambush bubbled over.
“I didn’t do it for you,” I snapped, hugging my arms around myself. “Or for your bloody Lycans. I only…”
He tilted his head, a hint of his usual arrogance returning.
“You only… what?”
I took a sharp, deep breath, the puzzle pieces in my mind finally clicking into a horrifying, undeniable picture. It wasn’t about sides anymore. It was about the truth. My father’s truth.
The words tumbled out, fueled by a lifetime of grief and a shocking, newfound certainty.
“I did it because it was the right thing to do! And because… because I believe you now. I believe you when you say you weren’t at Red River Village.”
I looked up, meeting his golden eyes, my own filling with painful, relieved tears.
“You weren’t the one who tore my father limb from limb...”