Chapter 42
Adelaide’s POV
Paisley kicked Halbert.
+8 Pearls
Alpha Lance also laughed, his gaze falling on me with unusual brightness. “Adelaide, well done!”
I wanted to respond modestly, but my throat was as dry as if stuffed with wolf hair, leaving me only to tug at the corners of my mouth.
“You’ve got your father’s spirit!” Abbott’s palm slapped my back with such force that I staggered.
I gritted my teeth to steady myself–I couldn’t disgrace my father.
“Adelaide, receive your orders!” As Alpha Lance rose, his molten–fur cloak swept the ground, revealing a map of the southern frozen terrain. “You’re now promoted to Silver Claw Gamma. Lead a thousand Gray Claw wolf warriors. Help yourself to the armory.”
He then turned to my friends, his eyes warm with approval.
“You four are promoted to Iron Claws, under Adelaide’s command.”
–
Angela secretly signaled her rank, while Halbert was already grinning from ear to ear.
Back at the Warscar Training Camp, I was their captain. Now, it was just a different battlefield title. Typically, it takes three years of merits to become a Silver Claw Gamma, yet I achieved it in a day. Alpha Lance was in high spirits, praising me further in front of the other werewolf generals before dismissing everyone else, saying he wanted a private chat.
Once alone, I forced myself to straighten my spine. “What are your orders, Alpha Lance?”
“Sit.” He plopped down on a bear–skin blanket first. Blood scabs and beard hair on his face formed a hard mass, yet they couldn’t hide the light in his eyes. “Don’t be so stiff. You’re a commander now.”
I struggled to kneel, ice shards from my knees piercing my wolf fur, eliciting an involuntary hiss of pain.
Alpha Lance pulled out a woll—sealed letter and pushed it toward me. “This is why the Western Tribes allied with Dragon Ash.”
As my fingers touched the parchment, the hairs on the back of my neck bristled–this answer might unravel the mystery of the Frostfang Pack’s massacre.
I walked out of the command tent with heavy steps, the night as black as ink, soaking through my
armor.
Chapter 42
word in the letter Lance gave me was like a poisonous blade, carving into my lungs..
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One of the werewolf generals Velda captured turned out to be the son of the Western Tribes‘ Lycan King.
He was merely there for battle experience but was captured by Velda in Snow Deer Town.
After capture, he concealed his identity. His defiance led to Velda’s men forcing him to drink feces and urine, subjecting him to extreme humiliation, and even castration.
The Lycan King’s son’s capture was the reason for the Western Tribes‘ surrender, as they sought to exchange their future heir for his return.
Tragically, his endurance was weak. Upon release, he committed suicide by stabbing himself.
The Western Tribes naturally didn’t want it known that their future Lycan King had been so humiliated and tortured.
Even less did they want it known that he took his own life due to the trauma. Hence, instead of causing a stir at Bloodscar Border, they allied with the Dragon Ash Kingdom to seek revenge on the southern border battlefield.
No wonder Velda was the hero of the Bloodscar victory.
What’s more, Velda had no idea that the wolf general she’d humiliated was the son of the Western Tribes Lycan King.
“Prioritize the bigger picture,” Lance’s words still echoed in my ears.
I tilted my head back, letting the cold wind pour down my throat, the coppery sweetness spreading on my tongue.
Yes, how could I hot endure?
If I were to overturn the chessboard now, Alpha Zander’s northern border would likely be jeopardized.
But the dark informants with severed tongues, the wolf pups flayed and hung on the city walls- whose blood debt would repay theirs?
Victory would skyrocket her
Velda, that fool, was probably still gloating, thinking the career, unaware that she’d ignited a fire of vengeance between two kingdoms.
The Western Tribes‘ wolves sought revenge but chose not to confront the truth head–on, instead taking a circuitous path to exact their vengeance on the southern border battlefield.
Velda, she’s doomed the southern border. Otherwise, with Alpha Lance’s capabilities, capturing Frostbite and Darkclaw Towns would have been just around the corner.
Now that the Western Tribes‘ werewolves were here, how many werewolf warriors would have to
Chapter 42
+8 Pearls
Inside the tent, the candlelight swayed. Angela was clearing the medicinal powder from the ground, and a corner of Halbert’s curtain was lifted by the wind.
I pulled out the new bedding sent over, the coarse hempen cloth rasping against the calluses on my palm–back in the Warscar Training Camp, I never imagined I’d end up in such a cramped tent with a group of wolf warriors.
Paisley tossed a wine bag at me, and Avery’s shouts suddenly seemed very distant.
“I heard your ex–mate and his new Luna are coming. Won’t it be awkward when you meet?” Angela’s voice mingled with the coppery tang of blood.
I stared at the hole in the tent ceiling, watching snowflakes drift in and melt into beads on my lashes.
Ulrik’s smug face surfaced again.
“What’s awkward about it?” Paisley snorted. “Excuse me? We have no regard for such scum.”
Halbert lifted the curtain. “Speaking of which, why did Luna Airella choose a despicable person like Ulrik as your mate?”
“He vowed never to betray his mate,” I lay down, my body feeling as if it had been run over by a cart–sore, achy, and exhausted. “My mother probably hoped I’d find an Alpha I could rely on.”
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