Chapter 43
Adelaide’s POV
+8 Pearls
Angela’s once delicate face was smeared with blood, silver–blue coagulated blood resembling ice. shards embedded in her skin.
She grimaced at the copper mirror. “I get your mom’s logic, but Ulrik’s a frozen ingrate.”
Halbert yanked off a bloodied bandage to rewrap his arm wound, his wolf tail restlessly slapping the bed’s edge. “If it were me, I’d have led the Frostfang guards to raid the Bloodmoon Pack! You even punched a grizzly in camp. Why go soft on that jerk?”
I leaned back on a pile of furs, my eyes shut. The mate–bond scar on my neck throbbed.
“The capital’s not Shadow Peaks. I’m already labeled a ‘rejected she–wolf. If I scratch Ulrik, the whole Frostfang Pack’ll be called ‘savage brutes–royals love such excuses to sneer.”
“Why drag the pack into this?” Halbert asked, puzzled.
Paisley pulled a honey–sealed wine bag from a carved leather case. The crimson flame pack’s sulfur–wine scent wafted out. “It’ll affect the pack. If you have younger siblings, no Alpha’d ally with a mate–slayer family.”
She drank deeply, the silver bag gleaming moonily. “Noble rules are trickier than traps.”
Angela suddenly gripped her rose–gold dagger, the blade warping her face in the palm. “After this battle, we’ll go to the capital with you. Let’s see who dares soil you
“No need to wait for victory,” I said, eyes flying open. “Ulrik and Velda will soon reach the southern border. Maybe I should tell Alpha Lance about us.”
Paisley tossed the wine bag to her, her usual arrogant smile playing. “You did nothing wrong. Let them confess when they come.”
Suddenly came the crunch of snow–boots outside. Avery’s cedar scent preceded him.
“I smell wine! Paisley, you miser, hiding drinks–
Avery burst in, lunging for the wine bag.
Paisley threw it to me. I caught it, leaped up, and flew out of the tent.
With a thud, I squatted down, dropping the bag. I clutched my nose in agony–it hurt so much!
What did I crash into, a copper wall? My nose nearly bent.
I massaged my throbbing nose, tears streaming.
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+8 Pearls
Chapter 43
As the man unscrewed the bag, a blizzard–pine pheromone burst forth.
His low laugh, carrying ancient werewolf howls, made the werewolf hairs on my neck freeze.
Before I could react, his tall figure swirled away with the wine bag.
As the alcohol burned down my throat, a horn sounded outside–a second battle’s iron hooves were crushing the snow outside Frostbite Town.
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