Chapter 11 - Echoes of the Past
The morning sun filtered through the high stained-glass windows of the royal chambers, casting long amber beams across the stone floor. Senna stood by the balcony, breathing in the crisp mountain air that smelled faintly of pine and melting snow. The peace treaty with the southern provinces had been officially ratified two days ago, yet a lingering sense of unease still prickled at the back of her neck.
Behind her, the heavy wooden door creaked open. Aldric entered, his boots clicking softly against the flagstones. He carried a heavy leather pouch and a rolled parchment sealed with the black wax of the northern lords.
"You're awake early," Aldric noted, his voice low and rich as he crossed the room to stand beside her.
"The silence in this castle is louder than the chaos of the Low Field," Senna replied without turning, her eyes fixed on the distant peaks where the rogue remnants were rumored to have retreated. "When you spend your entire life dodging scavengers and fighting for scraps, quiet feels less like peace and more like a trap waiting to snap."
Aldric reached out, his warm fingers gently brushing against her arm, right over the golden mate bond that hummed quietly beneath her skin. "You don't have to fight shadows anymore, Senna. Ithinar is yours as much as it is mine."
"Is it?" She turned to face him, her dark eyes sharp. "Your northern lords haven't sent a single representative to the council meetings since the execution of Mard’s loyalists. They are watching, waiting to see if the human Queen will stumble."
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Aldric’s jaw tightened, a familiar flash of golden fire igniting in his eyes. "Let them watch. If they cross the line, my wolf will remind them whose blood runs on this throne."
"Threats won't win the north, Aldric," she said softly, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat. "Diplomacy, or absolute leverage, will. That is why I asked for the northern ledgers."
