Chapter 9 The Iron Crown

The crown wasn't made of gold. It was made of cold iron and white bone.

I stood at the front of the Rogue Throne Room. The air was cool, smelling of rain and the pine trees outside. One year had passed since I was a "Nameless" slave scrubbing floors. One year since the man I loved tried to have me killed.

Now, I was standing tall. My back was straight. I wore a suit of boiled leather and a cape made of silver-wolf fur.

In the corner, sitting on a pile of soft rugs, was Leo. He was one year old now. He was toddling around, his little hands reaching for a wooden wolf toy. Every time he looked up, his golden eyes shined like small suns.

"The people are waiting, Elena," Silas whispered.

He stood beside me, looking like a wall of stone. He held the iron crown in his hands. His blue eyes were full of a respect I had never seen in my old pack.

"Let them in," I said.

The heavy stone doors swung open. Hundreds of Rogue Alphas and warriors marched in. They were scarred. They were tough. They didn't look like the polished soldiers of the Moonlight Pack. They looked like survivors.

Silas stepped forward. He lifted the crown high.

"A year ago, a woman came to us from the mist," Silas shouted. His voice echoed off the high stone ceiling. "She was rejected. She was branded. She was left to die. But she didn't die. She became our shield. She became the mother of our future."

Silas turned to me. He placed the heavy iron crown on my head. It felt cold against my skin. It felt like power.

"I give you the Rogue Queen!" Silas yelled.

The room should have erupted in cheers. But it didn't.

Silence filled the hall. It was a heavy, uncomfortable silence.

A man stepped out from the crowd. He was a giant. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, covered in tattoos of skulls. This was Alpha Varro. He led the largest group of Rogues in the North. He hadn't been there for my Trial of Blood. He hadn't seen the silver blade break against my skin.

"Wait," Varro growled.

He walked into the center of the room. He didn't bow. He looked at me with eyes full of hate. Then he looked at Leo, who was giggling on the rugs.

"We are Rogues," Varro said, his voice like grinding rocks. "We follow strength. We follow the alpha who can kill with his bare hands."

He pointed a thick finger at me.

"I won't follow a woman. I won't follow a mother who spends her days changing diapers. The Dead Lands are for monsters, not for little girls playing dress-up."

A few other Alphas nodded. They started to mumble. The unity I had worked so hard to build was cracking right in front of me.

"Varro," Silas said, his hand moving to his sword. "Step back. Now."

"No," I said, putting my hand on Silas’s arm.

I stepped down from the stone platform. I walked toward Varro until I was only a foot away. I was much shorter than him. To the crowd, it looked like a mouse standing in front of a bear.

"You think I'm weak because I have a son?" I asked. My voice was low and calm.

"I think you're a distraction," Varro spat. "You want to lead an army back to the palace? You'll get us all killed. Give the crown to Silas. He’s a real man. You? You should go back to the kitchen."

The crowd gasped.

I didn't reach for a weapon. I didn't growl. I didn't even shift.

I simply let go.

I opened the cage inside my mind where the White Spirit Wolf lived. I didn't let her out to change my body. I just let her voice be heard.

BOOM.

The air in the room suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The temperature dropped until I could see my own breath. A blinding white light started to bleed from my skin, glowing so bright that people had to shield their eyes.

I focused all of that pressure—all of that raw, ancient power—directly on Varro.

The big Alpha’s eyes went wide. He tried to take a breath, but his chest wouldn't move. He looked like he was being crushed by an invisible mountain.

Crack.

The stone floor beneath Varro’s feet began to spiderweb.

"Down," I said.

I didn't yell. I didn't have to. The power in my voice made the windows rattle in their frames.

Varro’s knees shook. He fought it. He let out a strangled groan, his muscles bulging as he tried to stay standing. But the Spirit Wolf was too strong. It was the power of a goddess, and he was just a man.

His knees hit the stone so hard it sounded like a hammer hitting an anvil.

Thud.

Varro was pinned to the floor. He couldn't even lift his head. He was shaking, sweat pouring down his face, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

I looked at the other Alphas.

"Does anyone else think I should be in the kitchen?" I asked.

The Alphas who had been mumbling before scrambled to get on their knees. They didn't just bow—they pressed their faces into the dirt. They were terrified. They realized I wasn't an Omega. I wasn't even an Alpha.

I was something the world hadn't seen in a thousand years.

I looked back at Varro. I pulled the pressure back just a little bit so he could speak.

"My... Queen," he gasped. He coughed, blood trickling from his nose. "I... I yield. I was a fool."

I reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair. I pulled his head up so he had to look at me.

"I am the Rogue Queen," I said. "I am the mother of the True King. And if you ever speak of my son as a distraction again, I won't just bring you to your knees. I will erase your soul."

I let him go. Varro slumped forward, gasping for air.

I walked back up to the throne. I sat down on the cold stone seat. Silas looked at me, a look of pure shock on his face. He hadn't known I could do that without shifting.

"The army is united," I said to the room. "We have spent a year hiding in the mist. We have spent a year being forgotten."

I looked out the window. Far away, past the Abyssal Mist, lay the kingdom of the Moonlight Pack. My old home. The place that had branded me and thrown me away.

"Valerius thinks I am dead," I said. "He thinks his land is safe."

I leaned forward, my iron crown glinting in the torchlight.

"He is wrong. We are going to train. We are going to build. And when we return, we won't be asking for a place at his table."

I picked up Leo. He leaned his head against my shoulder, his golden eyes looking out at the kneeling Alphas.

"We are going to take the whole table," I said.

A roar finally went up from the crowd. It wasn't a cheer. It was a war cry.

"Long live the Queen!" Silas shouted.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" the army screamed back.

As the echoes faded, a scout, his face pale beneath grime, pushed through the throng and knelt before me, breathing hard.

"My Queen," he gasped, his voice cutting through the celebration's din. "The Abyssal Mist... it's thinning at the border. You can see through."

Silas went still beside me. "What did you see?"

The scout looked up, his eyes haunted. "The Moonlight Kingdom, my Queen. It's... turning to ash."