Chapter 5 Whispers and Wolves

Lyra was surprised by how nice Mara's mending room was. It had a real bed, clean bandages, and even a window that let in light in the morning. But the wolf guards at the door made it clear that this was still a jail. "Five minutes," King Kael said, moving out of the way to let Lyra in. The look on Mara's face changed when she saw her sister when she got out of bed. The cut on her face was stitched up and cleaned up. "Come to finish what your wolf friends started?" Mara asked with anger. Lyra ran over to help her.

"Are you okay?" Did they hurt you?" "Stop pretending you care." Mara pulled away from Lyra's touch. "Garrick told me everything. How you abandoned our goal to work for the Wolf King." "That's not true!" Lyra protested. "I've been trying to find you since they took you!" Mara's gray eyes narrowed. "Then why are you with him?" She nodded toward King Kael, who waited by the door. "It's complicated," Lyra whispered. "But I made a deal. Three days to help break the curse, and then we're free." "You believe him?" Mara laughed bitterly. "Wolves don't keep promises, little sister." "Time's up," Kael announced, stepping forward. Lyra squeezed Mara's hand. "Trust me. I'll get us out of here." "Like you promised last time?" Mara's voice cracked. "Before they dragged me away to Garrick's camp?" Guilt twisted in Lyra's stomach. She'd failed to protect Mara once. She wouldn't fail again. Back in the hallway, Kael touched her shoulder. "She'll come around." Lyra shrugged off his hand. "She has no reason to trust either of us." "And you?" Kael asked, studying her face. "Do you trust me yet?" "Let's be clear," Lyra said coldly. "I'm helping you break this curse for Mara's freedom. Not for you." Something flashed in Kael's eyes-hurt, maybe? But it went quickly. "Fair enough. My war room is yours. The ancient books, maps, everything I have about the curse-you'll have access to it all." "And if your wolves realize you're working with a sorceress's daughter?" Lyra asked. Kael's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Then it's a good thing they think you're mute." The next morning, Lyra found herself back in the war room. Now dressed as "Lyr" again but without chest bindings, she hunched over maps and scrolls while Kael's generals argued war plans nearby. "The rebels have retreated to the Ashwood," General Vyrn reported. "Garrick wasn't among the captured or dead." "Double the border patrols," Kael ordered. "He'll try again before the Blood Moon." Lyra kept her head down, pretending not to listen. Her real attention was on the ancient texts scattered across her section of the table. Yellowed papers and dusty books, some in languages she barely recognized. Her mother's work was here somewhere. "Boy." General Vyrn's rough voice made her jump. "Fetch more ink." Lyra nodded, keeping her lips pressed together as she rose to collect a bottle from the shelf. "I don't understand why you keep this human around," Vyrn grumbled to Kael. "He can't even speak." "Lyr understands things we don't," Kael answered. "And sometimes, Vyrn, silence is more valuable than noise." The general's eyes narrowed as Lyra returned with the ink. "There's something odd about him. No smell. No voice. And too smart by half." "Your concerns are noted," Kael said dismissively. "Now back to the patrols." When the war council ended, Lyra stayed, carefully translating a scroll written in the Old Tongue. Symbols of moons and wolves danced across the brittle paper. "Find anything useful?" Kael asked, suddenly beside her. Lyra shook her head, keeping up her mute mask. "You can speak now," Kael said. "We're alone." She looked around the empty room before answering. "These works are incomplete. Pages missing, key parts scratched out." "My father wasn't fond of keeping records that challenged his power." Kael pulled up a chair beside her. "What are you looking for?" "My mother's spellwork." Lyra ran her fingers over faded lines. "If she created the curse, she must have left clues to breaking it." Kael reached past her for a leather-bound book. His arm brushed hers, sending a surprise shiver up her spine. "I found this hidden in the old healer's quarters," he said, opening the book to show pages of elegant handwriting. "It belonged to a woman named Ariella." Lyra's breath caught. She'd never seen her mother's handwriting before. "May I?" Their fingers touched as he gave her the book. For a moment, neither pulled away. "Why did you pretend to be mute?" Kael asked suddenly. "When you first came here as Lyr?" Lyra turned the pages carefully, avoiding his look. "It's easier to hide when people don't expect you to speak." "Yet you revealed yourself anyway." "Not by choice," she reminded him. A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No. By skill. That blade repair was... amazing." Heat crept into Lyra's cheeks at the surprise praise. "I didn't know what I was doing. It just felt right." "Magic often does." Kael leaned closer to examine the book with her. "Your mother wrote that magic runs in the blood. It calls to similar power." "Is that why the dagger responded to me?" Kael nodded. "And why I knew you weren't a regular smith. Magic recognizes magic." They worked side by side for hours, translating old texts and comparing them to Ariella's notes. As the sun set, servants brought food and drink. Lyra was surprised to find herself relaxing in Kael's company. His knowledge impressed her, and his dedication to breaking the curse seemed sincere. "Do you ever regret it?" she asked as they stopped to eat. "Becoming king?" Kael's amber eyes darkened. "I never picked this crown. My father died in the middle of a rite. The curse transferred to me that night, ready or not." "How old were you?" "Twenty." He looked into his wineglass. "Young enough to believe I could change things. Old enough to know better." Lyra studied his face-the scar along his jaw, the tiredness in his eyes. This wasn't the monster from village stories. This was a man trapped by fate, just as she had been in the mines. "What about you?" Kael asked. "Do you regret disguising yourself to infiltrate my fortress?" "No." Lyra smiled slightly. "Though I regret getting caught." That drew a genuine laugh from him-a warm, rich sound that changed his face. Lyra found herself smiling back before she remembered who he was. What he was. Her enemy. Her sister's attacker. The man who might save them both. She looked away quickly, focused on Ariella's book. "This passage references the Blood Moon ritual. But it's different from what you described." Kael leaned close to read over her shoulder. "How so?" "It says the sacrifice isn't meant to feed the curse, but to direct it." Lyra traced the faint words. "The blood opens a path for the power to flow." "Flow where?" Before she could answer, the door burst open. General Vyrn charged in, his face thunderous. "Sire, forgive the interruption," he growled, staring at Lyra. "But there's a situation requiring your... private attention." "Can it wait?" Kael asked, clearly annoyed. "It's about the prisoner. The woman." Vyrn's eyes never left Lyra. "She claims to know how your father really died." Kael stiffened. "Take me to her." He left without looking back, following Vyrn from the room. Lyra waited until their footsteps faded, then quickly gathered Ariella's book and several key papers. This might be her only chance to learn the truth-and possibly save Mara-without Kael's watchful eyes. As she reached the door, something caught her attention. A small box on Kael's desk, locked with a silver key. The box from the war council, where she'd seen Mara's name. Curiosity overrode caution. Lyra tried different small tools from the table until the lock clicked open. Inside lay a single piece of parchment, much bigger than she'd glimpsed before. It wasn't just Mara's name. It was a family tree. At the top stood Ariella Voss, linked by delicate lines to two daughters-Mara and Lyra. But beside Ariella's name was another: Thorne Ironclaw. Kael's grandfather. Cold shock washed over Lyra as she stared at the link. If this was true, then she and Mara weren't just sorceress's children. They were dog royalty. Footsteps approached the door. Lyra quickly replaced the parchment and locked the chest, slipping back to her seat just as Kael returned. His face was ashen. "Your sister has made some... disturbing claims." "About what?" Lyra asked, her voice steadier than she felt. "About my father's death." Kael's brown eyes searched hers. "She says your mother didn't curse our family. She says my father stole the curse from her in a ritual gone wrong." "That's impossible," Lyra whispered. "Is it?" Kael moved closer, his eyes intense. "She also says we share blood, you and I. That your mother was my father's half-sister." Lyra's heart hammered against her ribs. "That would make us-" "Cousins," Kael finished, his voice strangely soft. "Family." The word hung between them like a blade. "Did you know?" he asked. "No," Lyra answered frankly. "But I just found something that suggests she might be right." She pointed to the chest. Kael's eyes widened with understanding-and then narrowed with doubt. "You went through my things." "You went through my family history," she countered. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the discovery shifting everything between them. Then Kael did something surprising. He smiled. "You truly are an Ironclaw," he said. "Too stubborn and too curious for your own good." Before Lyra could answer, a howl echoed through the fortress-not the normal patrol signal, but a frantic, desperate sound. More howls joined the first. Kael ran to the window. In the patio below, wolves gathered, pointing to the sky. The moon was rising-blood-red and full, a day earlier than expected. "It's happening," Kael whispered, his face drained of color. "The special moon. We're out of time." As if in answer, pain grabbed Lyra's chest. She gasped, doubling over as heat flooded her veins. Something inside her awakened-something wild and hungry that had slept in her blood for generations. Kael caught her before she hit the floor, his own body shaking with the moon's call. "Lyra," he rasped, his eyes beginning to glow. "If we're truly blood kin, then the curse flows in you too." She looked up at him in horror as understanding dawned. "The ritual doesn't need a sacrifice," she whispered. "It needs a successor." In the distance, someone screamed. Mara.