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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viviem brawa ud nick un the l
+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.
But then he roared, “Outrageous! Hoarding wine in camp–confiscated!”
Before I could react, his tall figure swirled away with the wine bag.
I stared at the wolf–head emblem on his armor, those gemstone vertical pupils dimming as he
left.
Halbert wailed, his voice quivering like a tailless pup’s, “Confiscated by Alpha Lance? I’d even lick the bag…..
He suddenly stopped, his elongated canines piercing his tongue..
His chest–pounding antics made Paisley snicker. She shook her bulging bag and said, “Think I’d only bring one flask?”
In Avery’s cheers, Halbert ducked inside, their voices and wine–scented air swirling out.
I rubbed my still–hot nose tip as Angela shoved the wine bag into my hand.
As the alcohol burned down my throat, a horn sounded outside–a second battle’s iron hooves were crushing the snow outside Frostbite Town.
Alpha Lance ordered to injure rather than kill this time.
“Why not kill if we can?” Halbert’s blade gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
I gripped my silver spear, its tip piercing a shard of ice, “Not the time for that question.”
The spear butt slammed his chest guard. “Disable them, leave them breathing to spread the word.”
The distant battle cries grew louder. I saw the fire in his pupils- the ruthlessness unique to the southern border wolves.
As over a hundred shadows lunged, my silver spear twirled in hand.
The front–rank spears thrust toward me. I leaped onto my spear shaft, hearing the muffled cracks behind–they overextended, spears embedding into comrades‘ backs.
Paisley’s whip coiled around all spear shafts like a snake. Her laughter and spittle flew, “Adelaide, keep it up!”
The silver tip of my spear glittered in the sun. When the first blood spattered my wrist guard, I heard Angela’s hammer smash an enemy helmet,
Avery’s sword slice a throat, Halbert’s wolf claws carve a bloody path.
Chapter 43
off one by one.
After countless foes fell, my spear shaft was blood–soaked.
As I severed the last enemy’s tendons, his howl carried the distant sound of retreat.
+8 Pearls
Paisley’s whip flicked my blood–streaked temple. Her face, smeared with blood and sweat, smiled. “Was it fun?”
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