Chapter 1: The She-Wolf Brought Home

Oden's POV

The snow came earlier than usual this year.

I stood at the far end of the corridor, watching the courtyard pines bow under the weight of it, their dark branches bent nearly to breaking.

At this rate, the mountain passes would close before the month was out. I rolled my shoulder out of habit, and the joints answered with a pair of familiar, dry pops.

The fuel accounts still needed checking.

I turned down the hall and the voices reached me before I'd even rounded the corner.

"You should've seen her. She had silver hair."

That was Melda. I recognized her voice immediately, and without pleasure.

"Silver hair?" The second voice stretched the words out. That would be Grellin.

"That's Silver Moon coloring, isn't it? But the Silver Moon pack doesn't come up this far north. They've got no business in Crescent territory."

"Doesn't mean she's from Silver Moon proper. There are smaller packs near that border, some of them silver-haired too."

"And besides — Silver Moon territory sits closer to the Wandering Forest than most. The lord found her at the edge of it, didn't he?"

"What are you even saying?" Grellin's voice dropped, but the edge in it sharpened.

"Lord Severin carried her back himself. You think he'd do that for a rogue? You're awfully harsh on a poor she-wolf. I have to say, you're certainly loyal to Lady Winter."

"Lady Winter is going to be our luna someday, and you'd do well to remember—"

"Enough!"

I pushed open the kitchen door.

Both of them spun around. The color left Melda's face in a single clean sweep. I let the silence sit for a moment before I looked directly at her.

"What is the most important thing in Crescent Castle?" I asked.

Melda's fingers twisted in her apron. "Loy — loyalty, Steward Oden."

"If I hear this again," I said, "you'll need to find somewhere else to be loyal."

I held her gaze until she nodded, then turned to Grellin with a look that required no elaboration.

"This kitchen is not a tavern. It is not a market square. Mind your mouths — both of you."

"Yes, Steward Oden." They spoke in unison, heads down.

I left without another word and went to finish the fuel ledger. It was a small task, but in a castle this size, small tasks left undone had a way of compounding.

By the time I finished checking the last account and set the ledger aside, I had already begun making preparations for tomorrow’s visitor.

Then the clatter of hooves echoed across the cold stone, shattering the quiet of the afternoon, followed by the sharp, sudden whinny of a horse being reined in.

I walked to the corridor window and looked down into the courtyard.

A towering black horse clad in golden armor came to a stop before the steps, its saddle glinting in the fading gray light of the afternoon.

The rider swung down from the saddle, his crimson cloak billowing into a graceful arc in the wind.

Lord Knut Ember, of the Flame Moon pack.

I was briefly, uncharitably, tempted to wonder whether my memory had finally begun to fail me.

I had recorded his arrival two days prior — he was staying at the Moon's Lantern inn in the lower settlement, with a council meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning.

He was not supposed to be here tonight.

I set the thought aside and went down to meet him.

"Lord Knut," I said, offering the standard steward's greeting at the base of the steps. "We were not expecting you at the castle this evening. Was word sent ahead?"

"Word sent ahead." He slapped his gloves against his palm, the sound cracking through the cold air, and his grin widened without a trace of apology.

"Oden, you've been running this place so long you've turned into a ceremony. Do Severin and I really need to send letters to each other now?"

"My lord is not currently in the castle," I said. "He's expected back around dusk."

I glanced toward the western sky, where the light had already gone the color of old iron. "If you'd care to wait inside, you're welcome to the hall."

"Even better." He tucked his gloves into his sword belt and took the steps two at a time. "Gives me a chance to ask around while he's not here to shut me up."

I followed him inside. The candle flames in the corridor lurched sideways as the door opened, then steadied themselves.

Knut crossed the great hall with the easy confidence of a man who had never considered himself a guest.

He bypassed the lord's chair entirely and dropped into the one beside it, hooking one leg over the armrest.

His gaze traveled the room — the tapestries, the stone walls, the row of mounted trophy heads above the fireplace — before settling back on me.

"I heard," he said, "that Severin picked someone up. At the edge of the Wandering Forest." He paused. "A she-wolf."

I poured him a cup of hot barley ale and offered no opinion. "Your lordship is well-informed."

"Well-informed." He took the cup and dragged the rim across his lower lip before drinking.

"There are fifty-odd people in this castle, Oden, and not one of them can keep a secret past sundown." He set the cup down. "Which room is she in?"

My hand paused over the tray.

I straightened slowly and looked at him. He was still smiling.

"Oden." He lowered his voice by half a register. "You and I both know that dead-frozen man of yours doesn't bring strangers into his home for no reason."

"And carrying her in himself — I've seen my volcano spit out Silver Moon wine before I've seen Severin do something like that. I'm not here to cause trouble."

The corner of his mouth curved. "I'm just curious."

I allowed myself one small, internal sigh.

Dead-frozen.

I had never made peace with that particular nickname.

He had ridden alongside the lord through more than one ugly season.

He was one of the very few people alive who could say something like that to the lord's face without losing teeth over it.

He also knew half the castle staff by name, and the other half by reputation. There was no version of this conversation that ended with him not finding out.

"Second floor," I said. "East wing. The lord's chambers."

His expression lit up. He was on his feet before I'd finished the sentence, cloak swinging behind him as he headed for the door.

"Lord Knut." I followed. My voice did not change. "My lord gave explicit instructions. No visitors are to disturb her."

"I know, I know." He waved one hand over his shoulder without turning around. "I'm just going to look. I won't even knock."

I watched him disappear down the corridor, his boots loud on the stone, and stood still for a moment after the sound faded.

Then I turned, walked to the side passage off the study, and retrieved the small crystal orb from its cabinet.

I held it in both hands and spoke quietly into the faint warmth it gave off.

Lord Knut has arrived at the castle. He's on his way to the east wing, to the lord's chambers.

I set it back in its place and looked out the window.

Before I realized it, the sky had almost completely darkened.

I turned toward the chambers, just in case Lord Knut decided to disturb the young lady.

Just as I reached the chambers, I found the door half open. Lord Knut, predictably, had broken his word.

I forced these old legs into a run.

Then the steady sound of approaching hooves echoed.

I stopped short.

That voice—

The lord was back.