Page 82 of Haunted Crowns
Stephan’s gaze narrowed. “Where did it go?”
The officer hesitated, then pointed. “Here. Beyond the Eastern border. Deep into Great Pack territory.”
Silence fell.
Theon scowled. “Tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”
“Avaristo didn’t release Eris out of goodwill,” Adrian muttered, jaw set. “He’s plotting something. And if the Lycans are involved—”
“Then this is no border skirmish,” Stephan finished. He leaned over the table, exhaling slowly. Avaristo was not reckless. If he had aligned with the Lycans, it was deliberate. He did not take prisoners unless he wanted something.
Stephan straightened, his jaw tight. He would not let Eris be caught in the crossfire of another man’s game.
He adjusted the dark vambrace on his wrist, the cool metal grounding him as anger folded into something colder and sharper.
Adrian’s voice cut through the tension. “What’s the move, Commander?”
Stephan’s lips curved, not with humor, but with promise. “We visit the Great Alpha,” he said, his voice like frost. “We would not want him thinking we have lost interest in his affairs.”
Adrian arched a brow. “A friendly visit, then?”
“Friendly enough.”
Theon snorted. “And how do we get an audience? I am not sure he will be rolling out the welcome mat.”
Stephan’s smirk deepened, his eyes already moving to the next step. “Then we make him come to us.” He turned to Theon.“Find a convoy. Routine. Quiet. One they will not see coming. I want the route, the timing, and every name involved. Prep the horses.”
Theon grinned. “Now you are speaking my language.”
Stephan did not smile. This was not tactics. This was personal. Kareon had already played his hand, tempting Eris with power, riddles, and the cursed necklace that had left her distant and unreadable. Stephan had spent sleepless nights wondering if he had already lost her. But she had stayed. She had chosen him. And this time, he would ensure that no one could twist her loyalty again.
This was not just war. It was for her. It was for him.
And the Dragov High Commander stepped into the storm.
“When facing a Lycan, speak slowly, keep your distance, and never turn your back.
Courtesy is wasted on creatures ruled by scent and instinct.”
A Firstblood Etiquette Primer
Chapter 17
Morning found her slowly. Pale light spilled across the sheets, brushing her skin like breath. She reached for him without thinking, half in dream, half in memory, seeking the warmth that had held her through the night. Her hand met only cool linen. He was gone.
No.
The ache came fast.
She rose onto her elbows, heart tightening. She had spent too many mornings alone, but this one felt different. Crueler. Without him, the silence pressed harder. She was not ready to lose the weight of him yet. Her gaze swept the room looking for a trace of him. Anything.
Then she saw it. A slip of parchment, faintly creased, resting where his head had been. Her breath hitched.
She reached for it, fingers trembling as they touched the edge. The paper felt fragile. Intimate. His handwriting curled across the page, instantly familiar, even through blurred vision.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself, unfolding the letter as if it might break if touched too roughly.
My Eris,
