Chapter 10 - The Winter’s Queen
The Great Hall of Iron Hall blazed with the light of a thousand torches, casting a warm, golden glow across the towering stone walls, the grand banners of the northern packs, and the tables laden with heavy feasts. Music from lutes and flutes drifted through the vaulted rafters, mingling with the deep, rumbling laughter of warriors, nobles, and chieftains celebrating a hard-won peace.
At the head of the hall, upon the raised dais carved from ancient Greyfall granite, sat the dual thrones.
For the first time in the history of the northern territories, both seats were occupied.
Alpha King Valen sat tall and imposing in his dark mantle, his severe expression softened just enough by the quiet presence beside him that even the most rebellious southern lords knew better than to test him. And seated right beside him, dressed in emerald velvet and silver, with her leather satchel resting safely near her chair and her sharp, brilliant mind anchored firmly in the heart of the kingdom, was Sera Voss.
The festivities were at their peak when Steward Aldric stepped forward, clearing his throat to signal the formal toast.
Instantly, the murmur of the hall faded into a respectful, attentive silence. Hundreds of faces turned toward the dais.
"To the Alpha King," Aldric raised his silver goblet high, his voice ringing clear across the stone room. "And to our Queen—the scholar who translated our past, defended our borders, and brought warmth to the heart of Greyfall!"
"To the Queen!" the entire hall roared in unison, a thunderous wave of sound that shook the very foundations of the fortress.
Glasses clashed. Cheers erupted.
Sera blinked, momentarily taken aback by the title. She looked sideways at Valen.
The Alpha King was looking down at her, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his stern face—a smile meant for her alone, stripped of all armor, all politics, and all fear.
"Queen?" she murmured teasingly over the roar of the crowd. "I believe my official contract specifies Chief Royal Archivist."
Valen chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the air between them. He lifted his own heavy silver goblet, gently touching it against hers.
"Contracts can always be amended by the crown," Valen replied softly.
Down in the massive courtyard outside the great windows, through the glass panes frosted with the fading touch of winter, twenty massive grey wolves sat in a silent, perfect semicircle in the snow, lifting their heads toward the northern stars in a long, unified howl of triumph and loyalty.
Sera smiled, leaning her shoulder gently against Valen’s arm as the music swelled around them once more.
She hadn't come to Iron Hall to find a king. She hadn't come to find a pack, or a crown, or a destiny written in ancient runes.
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She had simply come to deliver a manuscript.
And in return, she had found her home.
