Chapter 4 - WHISPERS IN THE SNOW
The following morning broke cold and crisp. Sunlight bled through the frosty windows of Arya’s new chambers, illuminating rich crimson drapes, hand-carved mahogany furniture, and a feast of fresh bread, smoked meats, and sweet berries laid out on a silver tray.
Arya sat at the vanity mirror, staring at her reflection. She was dressed in a simple but elegant gown of soft ice-blue velvet, provided by the royal seamstresses who had arrived at dawn. Her silver hair had been brushed until it shone like spun moonlight, falling in long, graceful waves down her back.
For the first time, she didn't look like a cellar servant. She looked like someone who belonged in a castle.
A soft knock echoed at the door.
"Enter," Arya said, her voice still cautious.
The door swung open, and a young woman stepped inside. She wore the practical leather tunic of a pack warrior, but her face was young and friendly, with bright hazel eyes and short brown hair.
"Lady Arya," the girl said, bowing crisp and low. "I am Lyra, a warrior of the Third Infantry. King Kieran has assigned me as your personal guard and companion."
Arya blinked, standing up quickly. "You don't need to bow to me, Lyra. I'm... I'm not used to it."
Lyra offered a bright, easy smile. "You better get used to it, My Lady. The whole castle is talking about you. Half the court is in shock, and the other half is terrified because the King executed two guards this morning just for making a disparaging remark about your hair."
Arya’s eyes widened in horror. "He executed them?!"
"Well, he offered them a choice," Lyra chuckled, stepping further into the room. "A duel with him or the block. They chose the block. Smart choice, honestly—fighting King Kieran is just execution with extra steps."
Lyra’s casual tone made Arya let out a small, unexpected laugh. It was the first genuine laugh she had uttered in years.
"So," Lyra said, taking a seat on the edge of the heavy oak table. "We have a busy day. Lord Vane—the Chief Elder of the High Council—has called an emergency session. He’s an old dragon who hates change, and he’s demanding to test your bloodline before the elders approve the Royal Bonding."
Arya’s smile faded. "Test my bloodline?"
"Standard ancient protocol for Omega-Alpha bonds," Lyra explained, her expression turning serious. "They want to measure your wolf's spirit energy. If an Omega's wolf is too faint, the Council can technically challenge the King's decision on the grounds of 'pack preservation.'"
"My wolf is quiet," Arya admitted, looking down at her hands. "She has been suppressed for so long... I don't know if she's strong enough for a formal test."
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"Don't worry," Lyra said, punching her own palm reassuringly. "The King won't let them push you around. But you need to be ready. Elena Windmir was seen entering Lord Vane’s estate an hour before dawn."
Arya’s heart icy cold. Elena was already moving her pieces across the board.
