Chapter 210

Ava

The guards showed us little mercy as they shoved us roughly through the massive doors of the throne room, their spears pointed at our backs. I stumbled, the point of one spear pressing through my jacket, but I couldn’t slow down; something told me that these guards wouldn’t care if they injured us, even though Chris had just announced himself as the Alpha of Moonstone.

“Move,” the guards hissed, forcing us forward.

As the doors to the throne room swung open with a deafening creak, I couldn’t help but let my mouth hang open in awe. The room was positively enormous, with ceilings that were so high they disappeared into inky black shadows above.

Stone pillars that would have taken at least five men linking hands to fully encircle lined the aisle leading up to the throne made of rock, and our footsteps echoed a thousand times over as we were shoved ahead.

What struck me most, though, was the pervasive chill that bit at my cheeks as we were shoved through the massive throne room. Despite the bronze braziers flickering on each side of the pillars, there was no warmth to be found. The flames seemed to exist purely for light, their heat swallowed by the oppressive cold of the stone, and there was no fireplace. Even a bonfire would have fit in this enormous room, but there was none.

I had heard stories of Crescent Moon’s line of Alphas; dark and chilling stories, just like the cold air atop this mountain. Crescent Moon was the very first pack to have been created by the Moon Goddess, the place from which all of our kind, all of our history, ultimately sprang. The great Moonpetal tree resided here; I had always hoped to see it someday.

You could practically smell the years in these damp stone walls, speaking of a time that the rest of the packs had long since left behind. A time when cold austerity was the only way to survive.

A time when werewolves and humans still murdered each other on sight.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I noticed the guards that were stationed around the room. They stood so still against the pillars that I almost missed them at first, but upon closer inspection, I saw that there were dozens of them.

Their stone-colored uniforms blended seamlessly with the gray stone, making them appear as extensions of the pillars themselves. It was unnerving, like being watched by the very walls of the castle, and I shuddered.

And there, at the far end of the room, seated on a throne that seemed to be carved from the living rock of the mountain itself, was Alpha Winston.

He was unlike any werewolf I had ever seen, and he was just as chilling as the rumors made him out to be.

Tall and impossibly thin, Alpha Winston looked more like a winter wraith than a man. His long silver hair fell in straight lines past his shoulders, framing a shockingly ethereal, handsome face that was so pale it was almost translucent.

But it was his eyes that truly chilled me—gray as the stone around us, and just as cold.

There was a long, weighted silence as Chris and I were shoved to our knees at the base of the steps leading up to Winston’s throne. I had never felt so small, so insignificant—not even that day when Olivia had tried burning off my tattoo—as I did now.

Winston seemed to look at us, regarding us down the length of his slender nose with those cold eyes. Although a part of me hardly dared to look upon the visage of the ancient bloodline, I couldn’t help myself.

It was hard to tell how old he was; he was often described as being old, but it didn’t show in his face, and honestly, he hardly looked older than I was. Maybe his demeanor made him seem timeless, ancient, but he was just… a man.

When he finally spoke, his voice filled the cavernous room, echoing off the walls with a commanding presence that made me want to shrink into myself.

“So,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain, “the Alpha of Moonstone pack dares to set foot in my domain.”

Chris straightened his back, meeting Winston’s gaze. “Alpha Winston. It’s a pleasure.”

“Is it?” Winston leaned forward, resting one elbow on his knee. The light from the braziers caught the sharp angles of his face, the deep hollows in his pale cheeks. I couldn’t decide whether he was extremely handsome or incredibly horrifying. Maybe both, in this lighting. “I told you not to come. Unless you never received my letter?”

“Alpha Winston,” Chris replied calmly and more evenly than I would have, “I did receive your letter. But I had to speak with—”

“Enough!” Winston’s sharp voice cracked like a whip covered in ice. “Moonstone is no friend of Crescent Moon. I specifically forbade you from visiting. I do not take kindly to uninvited guests.”

I could feel Chris tensing beside me. “I apologize for coming against your wishes, but it’s a matter of utmost importance. I really need to speak with you.” Winston’s eyes narrowed. Chris glanced around at the stone-still guards and added, “...Privately.”

A scoff, loud and derisive, echoed through the chamber. Winston abruptly rose from his throne, his movements fluid despite his gaunt frame—like a snow flurry blowing across a vacant landscape.

He swept down the steps with his eyes flashing, each step echoing loudly in the massive room. As he drew closer, I could feel the cold emanating from him, as if he, too, were made of ice. But he wasn’t; once again, I was reminded that he was just a man, because his cloak was lined with fur to keep him warm and he wore thick woolen socks that peeked out over the tops of his boots.

“Privately?” Winston sneered, his slender form dipping slightly to peer at us—or rather, at Chris. I wasn’t sure if I existed to him in that moment. “What a preposterous notion. You dare to make demands in my own castle?”

Before Chris could respond, Winston turned to the nearest guard and snapped his fingers. “Take these intruders to the cells. They can await their punishment for trespassing there.”

Two guards materialized from the pillars, grabbing Chris and me by the arms. As they began to drag us away, Chris struggled, his voice rising in desperation.

“Alpha Winston, please! This concerns all the packs! The blight in Moonstone—”

But Winston had already turned his back, walking away with measured steps, his cloak billowing out behind him. Chris’s shouts echoed uselessly in the vast chamber as we were pulled away. I remained silent, either too stunned to speak or because I knew that speaking wouldn’t make a difference.

“You’re making a mistake!” Chris yelled. “We need to work together! For the sake of all the packs!”

The door slammed shut behind us, cutting off Chris’s words. We were led down a winding staircase, the temperature dropping with each step. The guards’ grips were like iron, unyielding despite our struggles.

At the bottom of the stairs was a long, dark corridor lined with cells. Without a word, the guards shoved us into separate cells, the iron bars clanging shut with a finality that made me shudder.

Still, I repeated those words to myself: he’s just a man.

Alpha Winston was a bit old fashioned, perhaps, but still just a man. Not a wraith, or an ancient wolf, or an immortal god made of ice. He was a peculiar man who lived on top of a tall and very cold mountain. Men could—usually—be reasoned with. Especially the peculiar ones.

“He won’t harm us, Chris,” I called out, seeing his form grabbing the bars of the cell across from me. “Just wait.”

Chris didn’t respond, although whether because he was still angry with me or simply calculating, I couldn’t tell.

Huffing at his silence, I huddled in the corner of my cell, trying to conserve warmth. Thankfully, there was a small wood stove that already had a little fire started in it, and after a few minutes of prodding, I managed to get the flames high enough to warm the room. As I tended to it, I repeated my mantra to myself.

He’s just a man. He’s not unreasonable. If he were, then why would he have a source of warmth here?

Time passed slowly in the dim cell. I paced to keep myself warm, my mind racing. Winston was not entirely irrational, just… cold. We had expected this sort of reaction. But how long would he keep us here while he contemplated what to do with us? A day? A week? The blight could eat through all of Moonstone in that amount of time.

As night fell (or at least, I assumed it was night—it was hard to tell in the windowless dungeon), the temperature dropped even further. I huddled in the corner of my cell, shivering despite the fire and the thick wool blanket that was provided.

More than anything, I wished Chris was here with me. His warmth, his presence, would make this whole thing a little more bearable.

“Some hotel,” I remarked, hoping for a laugh—or even just a snort.

Silence. So he was still mad at me.

As I sat there, shivering and alone, I couldn’t help but think about our argument earlier. It seemed so petty now, in light of our current situation.

Why did we have to fight right before this?