Alyssa
The month before a wedding is supposed to be a flurry of lace and flowers. Mine is a whirlwind of steel and ink.
The training yard is my sanctuary. The scent of sweat and damp earth is more real to me than any perfume. My personal guard, a dozen wolves handpicked by my father years ago, stands before me. In my first life, they were a ceremonial joke. Polished armor, dull blades, and even duller reflexes. Ethan let their skills atrophy until they were little more than statues to flank my throne.
Not this time.
I walk the line, my boots crunching on the gravel. I stop in front of a she wolf, her jaw set, her eyes a stormy gray. Anya.
In my first life, I watched Ethan humiliate her, stripping her of rank for questioning a foolish order during a border skirmish. She was one of our best trackers, and he cast her aside. I did nothing then. An oversight I will now correct.
“Anya,” I say, my voice carrying in the crisp morning air. “I reviewed your service record. You were demoted for insubordination two years ago.”
She doesn’t flinch. “I stand by my actions, Luna-to-be.”
“You advised a tactical retreat. Captain Vorlag insisted on advancing. He lost three warriors to a rockslide you warned him about.”
A muscle feathers in her jaw. “Yes.”
“Ethan sided with Vorlag. Said the chain of command was absolute.”
“He did.”
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The chain of command is a tool, not a religion. It is meant to ensure victory, not protect the fragile egos of incompetent captains.”
Her stormy eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It is the first crack in her stoic facade.
I straighten up, addressing the entire unit. “From this day forward, your training changes. The funds I now control will be used to equip you with the finest steel, the strongest leather, and the sharpest arrows. But equipment is useless without skill.”
I turn back to Anya. “Ethan called your actions insubordination. I call it saving lives. I am promoting you to Captain of my guard. Effective immediately. Your first task is to make this unit lethal. I want warriors, not decorations.”
Anya stares at me, her mind clearly racing. She remembers the disgrace. She remembers the injustice. And she sees the wolf who is offering to wipe it all away.
She drops to one knee, her head bowed. The gesture is swift, precise. “I will not fail you, Luna.”
“I know,” I say. The rest of the guard follows her lead, kneeling in the dirt. I see shock, respect, and a dawning understanding in their eyes. They are no longer Ethan’s props. They are my pieces. My board. My game.
Later that night, the study is lit by a single candle. The room smells of old paper and beeswax. I sit at my desk, an unadorned leather-bound ledger open before me. My handwriting fills the page in neat, unforgiving columns.
*Item: New ceremonial silver armor for the Alpha’s honor guard. Cost: Three hundred gold marks. Justification: None. Impact: Depletion of funds allocated for winter grain reserves.*
*Item: Gift of ten hunting horses to the Red Creek pack. Cost: One hundred fifty gold marks. Justification: Goodwill. Impact: Ethan’s personal vanity. Red Creek has offered us nothing in return for five years.*
The door opens without a knock.
“Still at it?” Ethan’s voice is slick with wine and self-satisfaction. He saunters in, loosening the collar of his tunic. He smells of the tavern.
“Just reviewing the wedding expenses,” I lie smoothly, not looking up from my work. “Everything must be perfect.”
He comes up behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. His touch makes my skin crawl. “Forget the numbers. Come to bed. A Luna should not be worrying her pretty head over such things.”
“Someone has to,” I reply, my tone light and dutiful. “You are busy with matters of state. It is my duty to manage the household.”
He chuckles, squeezing my shoulders. “That’s my girl. Ambitious, but practical.” He leans down, his breath warm on my ear. “Vorlag told me what you did with your guard. Promoting Anya? A bold move. She’s a bit… aggressive.”
“She’s loyal. And she’s effective. I need to know my guards can protect me, not just look handsome standing by a door. Is that not what you would want?”
He considers this. I have framed it as a matter of my own safety, which to him, is a matter of his property. He cannot argue.
“I suppose,” he concedes. “Just keep her on a tight leash. I don’t want her causing trouble.”
“Her loyalty is to me. And my loyalty,” I say, finally turning to look up at him with a placid smile, “is to you. There will be no trouble.”
He grins, satisfied. “Good.” He kisses the top of my head, a casual, possessive gesture. “Don’t be too late.”
He leaves, and the room feels clean again. I dip my quill in the inkpot.
*Item: Late night visit from the Alpha. Cost: My patience. Justification: His ego. Impact: A renewed desire to see it all burn.*
I scratch out the last line, but the sentiment remains, burned into my mind. I close the ledger. It feels heavier than it looks. It is the weight of his doom.
The wedding invitations are my excuse. They provide the perfect cover for a series of quiet, strategic meetings.
My first visit is to Marcus, the old Alpha of the neighboring Sunstone pack. He was a close friend of my father’s, but Ethan’s arrogance has cooled their relations significantly.
We sit in his solar, a warm room filled with maps and the smell of pipe tobacco. Finn stands quietly by the door, his presence a silent statement of support.
“The invitation is lovely, Alyssa,” Marcus says, his voice a low rumble. “But I confess, I am surprised to receive it from you personally.”
“I believe some things require a personal touch,” I reply, setting my teacup down. “Alliances, for example. Our packs have a long history of cooperation.”
“We did. Ethan seems less interested in history than in his own glory. He tripled the tariff on our lumber exports last year without so much as a conversation.”
This is my opening.
“An unfortunate oversight,” I say, my voice laced with sincere regret. “Ethan has been focused on… internal matters. He relies on me to manage the finer details of our finances. Details, I believe, that have been poorly handled until now.”
Marcus raises a bushy, gray eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“I have reviewed the tariffs. They are unjustifiable. As a gesture of goodwill, to honor the coming union of our packs through my marriage, I am authorized to restore them to their original rate. Effective immediately.”
I use the word ‘authorized’. It is a lie, but a necessary one. I am not asking permission. I am presenting a decision.
Marcus leans back, studying me. The shrewd old wolf sees more than I’m saying. He sees a schism. He sees a new power rising. He sees an opportunity.
“That is… a most generous gesture, Alyssa. And a wise one. It would go a long way to mending the rift between our packs.”
“Good,” I say, offering a small, confident smile. “Because in the coming seasons, I believe our packs will need strong friends more than ever.”
It is a hint. A promise. A warning.
He nods slowly. “Indeed. Well. You can tell your Alpha that I accept his… generous offer. And I will be at the wedding.”
As Finn and I ride back through the woods, he is quiet for a long time.
“That was a risk,” he finally says.
“It was a calculated one.”
“When Ethan finds out you overrode his tariff…”
“He will not find out,” I interrupt. “He does not read trade ledgers. He gives speeches and spars with his warriors. The treasury is my domain now. He gave it to me himself, in front of the entire pack.”
Finn looks at me, his expression a mixture of awe and deep concern. “Alyssa, what are you doing?”
I pull my horse to a stop under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. I look at my oldest friend, the one person I wish I could trust with the whole truth.
“I am being the Luna this pack needs, Finn. Ethan is the storm. He is loud, and powerful, and destructive. Someone has to be the stone. Unmoving. Patient. Waiting for the storm to break itself.”
He doesn’t fully understand, but he sees my conviction. He sees the steel in my spine.
“Then I am the earth that holds the stone,” he says, his voice low and certain. “Always.”
I nod, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest for the first time in what feels like an eternity. “I know.”
We ride on. One thread to my guard. One thread to the treasury. One thread to a neighboring Alpha. My web is growing, strand by silken strand. And Ethan, the fly, is buzzing merrily along, completely unaware he is already caught.
