Chapter 3 The Wolf King's Secret

Lyra froze as her sister's name stared up at her from the paper. Her heart slammed against her ribs. "Something wrong, boy?" King Kael's voice was dangerously soft. She closed the box with shaky hands. "No, my king. Just... surprised it opened." Kael's amber eyes narrowed. "What did you see inside?" "Nothing important," Lyra lied. "Just a maker's mark." General Vyrn growled, "He's hiding something, sire." "Enough." Kael waved his general away. "Everyone out. Except you, Lyr." The war room cleared quickly, leaving Lyra alone with the Wolf King.

She fought to control her breathing as Kael circled her slowly. "I've ruled these lands for eight years," he said. "In that time, I've learned to sense when someone is lying." He stopped right behind her, his breath warm on her neck. "And you, blacksmith's son, are drowning in lies." Lyra's mouth went dry. "I serve you honestly, my king." "Do you?" His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and turning her palm upward. "These are not a blacksmith's hands. Too thin. Too careful." She yanked her hand away. "I told you, I learned differently than most." Kael's laugh held no humor. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you're one of them." He jabbed a finger at the map where rebel areas were marked in red. "A spy sent to learn our weaknesses before the Blood Moon rises." "I'm no spy," Lyra protested, though her voice shook. "Then prove your loyalty." Kael pushed the silver box toward her. "Open it again. Show me what you saw." Lyra's mind raced. If she refused, he'd know she was hiding something. If she opened it and he saw Mara's name... A ruckus outside saved her. The doors burst open as a guard ran in. "My king! Rebels attack the western supply route!" Kael's attention snapped away from Lyra. "How many?" "At least twenty, sire. They've taken prisoners." The Wolf King growled, his features sharpening, becoming more wolf than man in his anger. "Prepare my guard. We ride immediately." To Lyra's surprise, he pointed at her. "You too, maker. I want to see how you respond to real rebels." Within minutes, Lyra found herself on horses, riding beside the king's war party. The trees blurred around them as they thundered toward the western road. Her plan to search for Mara was falling apart with every hoofbeat. They reached the ambush spot as the sun climbed high. Wagons lay overturned, supplies spread. Bodies of wolf guards littered the ground alongside killed rebels. "Search for survivors," Kael ordered. "And track the rebels." Lyra dismounted carefully, trying to look useful without getting in the way. That's when she saw it-a scrap of fabric snagged on a broken wagon wheel. Her heart stopped. Mara's scarf. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then snatched the scarf and stuffed it inside her tunic. Her sister had been here. "You! Smith boy!" General Vyrn barked. "What are you doing?" "Checking for weapons," Lyra answered quickly. The general snorted and moved on. Lyra breathed slowly, then froze again as she spotted something else-a rebel arrow with distinctive red fletching. The same kind used by her village. King Kael emerged beside her suddenly, making her jump. "What did you find?" "Arrow," she said, giving it to him. "Unusual design." Kael examined it, nostrils flaring. "You recognize it." It wasn't a question. Before she could answer, wolves howled in the distance. "They've found the trail," Kael said, pulling her back to her horse. "Let's see where your loyalties truly lie, blacksmith." They followed the rebels' path for hours, deeper into the forest than Lyra had ever been. When they finally stopped, Kael's guards brought forward a young man with a bloodied face-a caught rebel. "Where are the others?" Kael demanded. The rebel spat at his feet. "I'll die before I talk." "That can be arranged." Kael turned to Lyra. "Your village uses these arrows, don't they?" The charge hung in the air. Lyra's thoughts raced. If she denied it, he'd know she was lying. If she admitted it... "Many villages use similar fletching," she answered carefully. Kael's eyes burned into hers. "You're protecting them." "No, I-" "Let me find out." In one swift move, Kael grabbed her hand and sliced her palm with his dagger. Blood welled up. "What are you doing?" she gasped. Kael pressed her bleeding hand to the rebel's face. "Blood recognizes blood." Nothing happened. The rebel stared in confusion. Kael looked surprised. "You're not kin to these rebels?" Lyra pulled her hand away. "I told you, I'm just a blacksmith." The Wolf King studied her face. "A blacksmith who knows blood magic, fixes cursed blades, and carries no scent." He wiped her blood from his knife. "Return to the castle. We have a ritual to prepare for." That night, Lyra paced her small room, mind spinning. Mara had been with the rebels. The scarf proved it. But was she prisoner or ally? A knock interrupted her thinking. She quickly hid Mara's scarf under her mattress before opening the door. Elara stood there, blind eyes somehow finding Lyra's face. "The king requests your presence in his private forge." "Now? It's past midnight." "The Wolf King rarely sleeps before the Blood Moon." Elara's voice dropped to a whisper. "Be careful. He suspects." The old woman led her through winding hallways and down stone steps. They fell deeper than Lyra thought possible, until the air grew cold and damp. Finally, they reached an iron door guarded by two wolves. They nodded to Elara and let them pass. The private forge burned with blue fire instead of orange. King Kael stood before an anvil, hammering a piece of metal that glowed strangely bright. "My king," Elara announced. "The smith, as requested." Kael didn't look up. "Leave us." When they were alone, he thrust the glowing metal into a bowl of liquid. Steam hissed upward, smelling of blood and strange plants. "Do you know what I'm making, blacksmith?" Kael asked. Lyra approached carefully. "A ritual blade?" "Not just any blade." He lifted it from the pool. The metal now shimmered with runes similar to those on the box. "This will pierce the heart of the sacrifice on the night of the Blood Moon." Lyra's stomach twisted. "Why show me this?" "Because I need you to finish it." Kael held out the unfinished hilt. "Only someone with your... unusual talents can bind these runes properly." She paused. "I don't understand." "Don't you?" Kael's voice softened dangerously. "I think you understand more than you admit. The box recognized you today. This blade sings to your touch. Tell me why." Lyra took the hilt, buying time to think. The moment her fingers touched it, the metal warmed, runes glowing brighter. Power thrummed through her hands. "My mother," she whispered, the truth coming out before she could stop it. "She knew the old ways." Kael stepped closer. "And what else did she teach you, before the mines took her?" Lyra looked up sharply. "How did you know-" "I know everything about my kingdom." His amber eyes mirrored the blue forge fire. "Almost everything." She worked the metal almost instinctively, her hands moving as if led by forgotten memories. The hilt took shape, runes running like water under her fingers. "Beautiful," Kael murmured, watching her work. "You have magic in your blood, smith boy." When she finished, the completed ritual dagger hummed with power. Kael took it from her, testing its balance. "Perfect," he said. Then, faster than she could respond, he pressed the blade to her throat. "Now tell me who you really are." Lyra swallowed hard against the cold metal. "I told you-" "No more lies." His face was inches from hers. "The ritual needs a specific sacrifice. Someone with old blood. Someone like you." Her heart beat. "I don't know what you mean." Kael's eyes flashed. "Then perhaps your sister Mara can explain." Lyra's world stopped. "What?" Kael's lips twisted into a predatory smile. "Did you think I wouldn't recognize her smell on that scarf you stole? The Blood Moon rises in two days, and I finally have what I need-both children of the last true sorceress."