Chapter 16 - The Clash of Queens
The royal army surged through the open gates like an unstoppable tidal wave of steel and fire.
Panic erupted inside the courtyard of Iron Ridge. The Crimson Pack mercenaries, deprived of their defensive wall advantage, were caught completely off guard as Nathaniel’s elite heavy cavalry swept through the lower grounds, clearing the court in minutes.
In the high winch tower, chaos reigned.
Lord Malakor drew his heavy broadsword, his face twisted in absolute fury. "TRAITORS! Find out who opened that gate and skin them alive!"
"It wasn't a traitor, Lord Malakor," a calm, icy voice echoed from the doorway of the tower room.
Grace stepped into the chamber. Rain dripped from her hair onto her leather armor, her two silver daggers drawn and held low at her sides.
Lyra Pike stepped forward, pushing Malakor aside. Her dark eyes locked onto Grace, her lips curling into a venomous sneer. "The little rejected Omega came out to play."
"You must be Lyra," Grace said smoothly, taking a slow step into the room, her eyes never leaving her opponent. "You look just like your mother. Blinded by a title you didn't earn."
"My mother was the rightful ruler of this court!" Lyra shrieked, drawing two curved assassin blades from her back. "You stole her legacy! You turned the Alpha King against the noble bloodlines!"
"Your mother starved innocent women in a dark hall because she was terrified of the truth," Grace replied, her voice dangerously steady. "She had no legacy. Only victims."
With a wild screech, Lyra lunged forward, her curved blades flashing through the air like lethal silver lightning.
Grace parried the first strike with her left dagger, the metal ringing loudly in the small stone chamber. Lyra was fast—trained in the brutal, erratic fighting style of the Crimson Pack—slashing continuously at Grace’s throat, chest, and eyes.
Grace retreated step by step, her defensive footwork precise. She absorbed the impact of Lyra’s heavy blows, using her agility to dodge what she couldn't block.
"You're weak!" Lyra taunted, lunging with a lethal low strike aimed at Grace’s abdomen. "You don't have the stomach for blood!"
Grace sidestepped the blade by a fraction of an inch. As Lyra overextended, Grace brought the heavy pommel of her right dagger down hard onto Lyra’s wrist.
CRACK!
Lyra gasped in pain, dropping one of her curved swords.
Before Lyra could recover, Grace spun around, her right leg sweeping Lyra’s ankles out from beneath her. Lyra crashed hard onto the cold stone floor, her remaining blade skittering across the room.
Lord Malakor, seeing Lyra defeated, let out a desperate roar and raised his heavy sword to strike Grace from behind.
CLANG!
A massive black broadsword intercepted Malakor’s blade mid-air, shattering the iron weapon into a dozen jagged pieces.
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Nathaniel stood in the doorway, his terrifying Alpha aura filling the entire chamber like a suffocating dark fog. He grabbed Malakor by the throat with one hand, lifting the heavy lord off his feet as if he weighed nothing at all.
"Touch my Queen," Nathaniel whispered, his blue eyes flashing with wild wolf fire, "and I will tear this mountain down upon your head."
