Chapter 12 - The Northern Frost

Two days later, a carriage bearing the crest of the Alpha King cut through the howling blizzards of the northern territories. Inside, the air was bitterly cold, but Senna sat unmoved, wrapped in her heavy mended cloak, her mind calculating every tactical advantage. Aldric sat across from her, his massive frame taking up half the bench, watching her with a mixture of awe and protective intensity.
They arrived at Frostpeak Hold—a fortress carved directly into the side of an obsidian glacier. The iron gates groaned open, revealing a courtyard filled with towering northern warriors whose wolves paced restlessly beside them in the freezing sleet.
Lord Vane, the leader of the northern clans, awaited them on the raised stone dais. He was a mountain of a man with a scarred cheek and eyes like shards of ice. He did not bow when Aldric stepped down from the carriage. He certainly did not bow when Senna emerged beside the Alpha King.
"Alpha Aldric," Vane rumbled, his voice echoing off the frozen walls. "We did not expect the King of Ithinar to drag a human pet into the sacred halls of the frost clans."
The temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees. Aldric’s wolf surged forward, a terrifying growl tearing from the King's throat as his eyes flared blindingly gold.
Before Aldric could step forward, Senna raised a single gloved hand, stepping smoothly in front of him.
"Pet?" Senna’s voice cut through the howling wind with crystal clarity, devoid of fear. She stepped right up to the massive northern lord, tilting her head up to meet his hostile glare. "Your northern grain reserves are at twelve percent capacity, Lord Vane. Your winter cull failed because your hunters are starving, and your trade routes to the eastern ports were cut off by the avalanches three months ago."
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Vane’s eyes widened slightly, the sneer faltering for a fraction of a second. "You lie."
Senna pulled a folded parchment from her cloak and tossed it onto the stone pedestal between them. "That is the audit of your own supply houses. Your men are cold, they are hungry, and they are loyal to a leader who cares more about ancient prejudice than the survival of his own pack."