The room door slammed open before dawn, jolting me from restless sleep.
“Get up.” Nyx’s voice cut through the darkness like a blade. “If you’re going to waste my time, at least do it efficiently.”
I pulled on my clothes and followed her down corridors that seemed carved from the cliff itself. The war room was a shrine to strategic brutality—maps pinned to walls with daggers, ledgers bound in black leather, every surface covered with the cold mathematics of survival.
“Sit.” She gestured to a chair across from her, not bothering with pleasantries. “We have work to do.”
I settled into the stone seat, noting how she’d positioned herself with perfect lighting—able to read every expression while keeping her own face partially shadowed.
“How many warriors can you spare from the Southern Territories without exposing your borders?” she asked, her quill poised over parchment.
“Two hundred. Maybe three if—”
“Wrong.” The word cracked like a whip. “You’re thinking like a prince, not a strategist. Try again.”
“I need more information about—”
“You need to stop making excuses.” She leaned forward, storm-gray eyes boring into mine. “This is how it works here, Prince. I ask a question, you give me the answer that keeps people alive. No hedging, no diplomatic language, no pretty words that mean nothing.”
The challenge in her voice made my wolf stiffen with recognition. This wasn’t conversation—it was combat by other means.
“One hundred fifty,” I said. “And they’d have to rotate every six weeks to maintain border security.”
“Better.” She made a note, but didn’t look up. “Now explain why the Western Alliance will fail within the year.”
“The what?”
“You didn’t know?” Her smile was sharp as winter steel. “The Alphas you left behind have been forming their own coalition. Three guesses who they plan to move against first.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. While I’d been following prophecy, politics had been reshaping the entire territorial landscape.
“They wouldn’t dare—”
“Wouldn’t they?” She finally looked up, and I saw something dangerous in her expression. “You’ve been traveling for months, Prince. Did you think your enemies would wait patiently for you to finish collecting mates?”
Before I could respond, the door opened and Reed slipped inside. He moved to a high-backed chair in the corner, settling in like he belonged there.
“Reed,” Nyx said without turning. “What have I told you about council meetings?”
“To listen and learn,” the boy replied, his silver eyes never leaving my face. “And to tell you if anyone lies.”
“And?”
“He’s not lying about the warriors. But he’s scared about the Alliance.”
Nyx’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Scared?”
“Not for himself,” Reed clarified, his voice carrying an eerie maturity. “For the people who trusted him.”
“Interesting.” Nyx made another note. “Continue monitoring, but stay quiet.”
The boy nodded, settling back into watchful silence. I felt like a specimen under examination, every reaction catalogued and analyzed.
“Your son has unusual talents,” I said.
“My son has survival skills.” Her voice carried warning. “Don’t mistake him for a normal child.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. Because normal children don’t survive what we’ve survived.” She stood, moving to the largest map on the wall. “Tell me, Prince—what do you see when you look at these territories?”
I joined her at the map, studying the marked positions and supply lines. “Chaos. Too many competing interests, not enough coordination.”
“Wrong again.” She pointed to specific locations with surgical precision. “I see opportunities. Weak points in enemy positions. Resources that could be redirected. Alliances that could be forged or broken.”
“And which category do I fall into?”
“That remains to be seen.” She turned to face me, close enough that I could catch her scent—sea spray and something darker. “But I’m beginning to form an opinion.”
“Which is?”
“That you might actually be useful. If you survive the next few hours.”
“What happens in the next few hours?”
Her smile was predatory. “You meet my warriors.”
The training yard erupted in chaos the moment I stepped onto the sand. Twenty of Stormcaller’s finest surrounded me in a loose circle, their faces ranging from curious to openly hostile.
“So this is the prince,” one of them called out. “Doesn’t look like much.”
“Looks soft to me,” another added. “All that Southern comfort probably made him weak.”
“Enough!” Nyx’s voice cut through the taunts like a blade. She stood on the raised platform overlooking the yard, Reed beside her like a small shadow. “You know why you’re here. The prince thinks he can contribute to our cause. Prove him wrong.”
“All of them?” I asked, selecting a practice sword from the weapons rack.
“Just one.” She gestured to a massive warrior stepping forward from the group. “Commander Thane. My Beta. If you can last five minutes without yielding, I’ll consider you minimally competent.”
“And if I win?”
“You won’t.” Thane’s voice was a rumble of granite and threat. “But if you somehow manage it, you’ll have earned the right to train with us.”
The circle tightened as we faced off. Thane was enormous—easily six and a half feet of muscle and scars, his practice blade looking like a toothpick in his massive hands.
“Ready?” Nyx called down.
I nodded, settling into a fighting stance.
“Begin!”
Thane launched himself at me like a landslide given form. His first strike would have decapitated me if I hadn’t rolled aside at the last second. The assembled warriors cheered, bloodthirsty and eager.
“Come on, Prince!” one of them shouted. “Dance for us!”
I danced. For the first minute, survival was all I could manage. Thane’s blade was everywhere—overhead strikes that cracked the sand, lateral sweeps that missed my ribs by inches. But gradually, I began to see the patterns in his attacks.
He was strong, but he telegraphed his moves. Powerful, but not particularly fast. And most importantly, he was used to winning through intimidation.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I called out, ducking under another wild swing.
“What?” Thane’s rhythm faltered slightly.
“I said, is that all you’ve got?” I pressed my advantage, striking quick combinations that forced him backward. “Because I’ve sparred with tavern drunks who hit harder.”
The insult had its desired effect. Thane’s face darkened with rage, and his attacks became wilder, less controlled. I used his momentum against him, deflecting his blade and countering with precise strikes to his exposed flanks.
“Five minutes!” Nyx called out.
But I wasn’t interested in lasting five minutes anymore. I was interested in winning.
When Thane overextended on his next strike, I stepped inside his guard and drove my pommel into his solar plexus. He doubled over with a wheeze, and I followed up with a strike to his weapon hand that sent his sword flying.
The yard fell silent as I pressed my blade to his throat.
“Yield,” I said quietly.
Thane stared up at me, breathing hard, something like respect flickering in his eyes. “I yield.”
The silence stretched for another heartbeat, then the warriors erupted in cheers and curses. Money changed hands as bets were settled. But my attention was focused on the platform above.
Nyx was writing in her ledger again, her expression unreadable. Reed leaned over to whisper something in her ear, and she nodded once.
“Well,” she called down, her voice carrying across the sudden quiet. “That was… adequate.”
“Adequate?” Thane struggled to his feet, still breathing hard. “He just beat your Beta in single combat!”
“He beat a Beta who was overconfident and fighting angry.” Nyx closed her ledger with a snap. “But it was better than I expected from a Southern prince.”
“Generous praise,” I said, offering Thane my hand.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Nyx stepped down from the platform, Reed trailing behind her. “One victory doesn’t make you a warrior.”
“What does?”
“Surviving what comes next.” She moved through the circle of warriors, who parted before her like the sea. “Tomorrow, you train with the full unit. No holding back, no mercy, no special treatment because of your bloodline.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight, you join me for evening reports.” She paused at the yard’s entrance, looking back with those storm-gray eyes. “Reed wants to show you something.”
The boy stepped forward, his silver gaze meeting mine with unsettling directness. “The maps in Mama’s study,” he said. “They’re not the real ones.”
“Reed,” Nyx said sharply.
“He should know,” the boy insisted. “If he’s going to help us fight the Alliance, he should know about the hidden passages.”
Nyx studied me for a long moment, something complex moving behind her eyes.
“Very well,” she said finally. “But if you betray us, Prince, if you use what we show you against us—”
“I won’t.”
“You’d better not.” Her voice carried absolute certainty. “Because if you do, I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake you ever make.”
As we walked back toward the fortress, Reed fell into step beside me.
“You fight better than the others,” he said quietly.
“Others?”
“The ones who came before. The ones who wanted to marry Mama for her territory.” His young face was solemn. “They all failed the tests.”
“What happened to them?”
“They left. Or we made them leave.” He looked up at me with those unsettling silver eyes. “But you’re different.”
“How?”
“You don’t look at her like you own her. You look at her like you want to earn her.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
“Is that good or bad?” I asked.
Reed’s smile was small but genuine. “It’s why she’s considering keeping you.”
Every second with her is a test. And I want to pass.