Chapter 7 - The Council of Spies
Down in the valley, far below the safety of the frost-line lodge, the atmosphere inside the Moonstone Citadel was thick with sulfur, vinegar, and whispered conspiracies.
High Priest Dorian paced back and forth across the black basalt floor of the inner sanctuary, his long white robes sweeping up small clouds of white ash from the shattered braziers. His old eyes were bloodshot, and his hands trembled as he clutched a heavy silver staff.
"She’s an abomination," Dorian spat, slamming the staff against the stone. "A scullery cleaner with no known lineage! And Casius—after three years of careful negotiation with the southern houses—throws it all away for a stray dog!"
From the shadows near the southern archway, a figure stepped forward. The woman wore a cloak of heavy indigo velvet, the hood pulled low to cast her face in shadow. But the platinum-blond hair tumbling over her shoulders gave her away instantly.
Isold’s face was twisted into an expression of cold, venomous fury. The humiliation of being publicly rejected before five hundred pack members had burned away any remaining veneer of aristocratic grace.
"He didn't choose a stray dog, Father," Isold said, her voice dropping to a low hiss. "He chose the prophecy. You saw the markings on her chest. If the packs believe she is the true avatar of the First Hearth, our entire authority over the spiritual laws crumbles within a single moon."
"Then we don't let them reach the capital," Dorian said, stopping his pacing to look at his daughter. His lips curled into a thin, ugly line. "The Ironclaw Alpha, Vane, is already marching his elite guard toward the middle pass. He has always coveted the northern throne. If we offer him the alliance that was promised to Casius—and whisper in his ear that the new queen is a weak, half-human fraud who can be disposed of after the coronation—he will do our dirty work for us."
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Isold smiled, though there was nothing warm in it. "And Casius?"
"Casius is blinded by the mating bond," Dorian whispered, leaning closer to the candlelight. "A wolf blinded by his mate is a wolf who makes mistakes. Let Vane test them in the high passes. When the fire wolf falls, the myth dies with her—and we will restore the crown to its rightful place."
