My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 68

Fenris

"Kael is starting to put words to the council," Yvara said quietly, stepping back to my side.

The smile vanished from my face. I kept my eyes on Elian. "Let him. His daughter lost a fair challenge. The pack saw it."

"He is pretty pissed about the defeat," Yvara continued. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "He feels humiliated. I saw him in the main corridors earlier this morning. He was walking with Chief Vane. Vane was listening closely."

I locked my jaw. Chief Vane controlled the eastern hunting grounds. He was an old, traditional wolf who held a lot of sway over the older generation in the pack.

"Kael is twisting the narrative," Yvara said. "He is telling them you let a soft southern outsider humiliate a pure Ironmaw bloodline. He is saying you are compromised by the Valdris girl."

"He is a fool," I said flatly.

"He is an angry fool with influence," Yvara countered. She turned to face me fully. "You have to do something, Fenris. You cannot just ignore them. You can be the strongest fighter on this mountain, but if you let them control the whispers in the dark, we are just a lone bear surrounded by a pack of starving hounds. They will bleed you out from the ankles."

I was quiet for a long time. The wind picked up, biting at the exposed skin of my face.

I knew how to fight a rogue in the snow. I knew how to break a man’s neck before he could draw his sword. I did not know how to sit in a warm room and placate bruised egos. I hated the politics. I hated the careful manipulation of words.

"Dimitri was better at this," I said. It was a heavy, bitter admission.

"Dimitri is dead," Yvara said instantly. She did not coddle me. "You are the Alpha. You have to handle it."

The crunch of heavy boots on the frost interrupted us.

The footsteps were wrong. They were too slow. Too deliberate. They lacked the heavy, grounded weight of a northern wolf.

I turned my head.

Lord Torin was walking toward us across the yard. He wore a thick, fur-lined cloak over his expensive southern clothes, but he was still shivering. His face was pale, and his eyes looked tired, carrying dark bags underneath them.

He stopped five feet away from us. He looked at Yvara first, his nose wrinkling slightly in distaste, before looking at me.

"Alpha Volkov," Torin said. His breath plumed in the cold air.

"Torin."

Torin cleared his throat. He squared his shoulders, trying to project authority. "I require a word with you. It concerns the Princess."

"Speak."

Torin glanced at the two pups in the ring, who were now glaring at each other from opposite sides of the dirt. He looked disgusted by the dirt and the blood.

"King Aldric sent my delegation here for a very specific reason," Torin began, looking back at me. "The border treaty between our kingdoms is entirely contingent on the marriage. The actual, binding ceremony. Yesterday's display in the yard was barbaric. The Queen is highly distressed by the condition of her daughter."

I stared at him. I did not blink. I let the silence stretch out, forcing him to stand in the freezing wind.

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