Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 17: Grace: Everything Goes South

"Answer!" The king’s roar shakes dust from the rafters.

Rafe’s face presses against the floor, his shoulders trembling. "High Alpha, I didn’t—she was never marked—"

"Silence!"

As if he hadn’t been demanding an answer a literal moment ago.

The temperature spikes. A faint glow emanates from the king’s skin, pulsing in time with his rage. The shadows of his tattoos seem to reach out, grasping at nothing.

My head spins. This is chaos. Insanity.

Alpha’s forehead touches the ground, well and properly cowed this time. "High Alpha, please. We didn’t know she bore your mark. How could we expect a human to bear the High Alpha’s claim?"

The pressure in the room doubles. Voices cry out as every shifter in the Blue Mountain Pack presses themselves flat against the floor. The king’s power fills every corner, every crevice, until the very air feels ready to ignite.

But still, it barely touches me. Like I’m wrapped in some invisible barrier that keeps the worst of it at bay. The king turns, and our eyes meet. Gray like storm clouds, just like that night in the forest. Just like the wolf that protected me.

Oh.

Oh, no.

It’s strange—impossible, really—but the pieces click together, and my stomach drops. The massive wolf with the ethereal blue glow and the Lycan King, with his own faint glow. They’re one and the same, aren’t they?

But wait—I’ve never heard of a wolf and their shifter body being separate.

Still, somehow I know I’m right. It rings true down to my soul.

"She was unmarked, High Alpha. I swear it," Rafe says, and Ellie’s hand is still holding onto his arm, trembling violently.

Everything feels distant, like I’m watching a play unfold. Or a TV show. The king’s power thrums through the room, but my mind fixates on the oddest details—the way dust motes dance in the air, how Beta’s left boot has a scuff mark, the way the Lycan King’s cologne-like smell wafts through the air, thicker than before. Maybe it’s from his alpha dominance.

make sense if I am. Shock is the body’s way of protecting itself from trauma, right? And

grappling with the idea I’m somehow marked by a psychopathic wolf-king who smells like he should be an underwear

the ground, kind of choked... Okay, yeah, I have to be

room. It’s a soft sound, a bare scuff, but that’s how dead the air is in

king subjugating a

ice, and I swear the entire room is holding their breath, waiting to watch the end of this horrible

opens and closes, but no

finding

face goes slack. His throat bobs as he swallows. "There was... there was a presence. A wolf

The king’s voice carries a

and the

press my hands against my throat, remembering

Alpha." The king’s voice drips with lethal calm. "Was there a scent covering

small now, oppressed beneath the weight of Lycan dominance. He’s nearly prostrated, as weak as the others, as if he’s not an alpha at all.

"And?"

belonged to a rogue wolf." The words come out choked, as

It’s not a pleasant sound—my soul cringes from

king turns away from Rafe, and I can finally see his face again. It’s closed off, cold and distant, as if speaking to air and not living, breathing people. Every word he speaks is punctuated by a

Brax. Clearly, your nose needs... retraining." His boots stop directly in front of the man I’d considered a father for six years. "Or

hitches. "High

"Silence."

command cracks like a whip. Alpha’s mouth snaps shut so fast I hear his

pack that can’t recognize their king’s scent." He shakes his head, a terrible smile playing on his lips. "What other basic skills have you neglected to master? The difference between up

ripples through the prostrated crowd, quickly stifled when the king’s gaze sweeps over them. Even when their heads aren’t raised, they must

to every corner of the room. "This speaks to a

the floor. Even from here, I can

re-education." The king’s words fall, like stones into still water, rippling through every body here. "Every. Last. One." The glow intensifies around him, a beautiful blue, and there’s no mistaking it—it’s the same ethereal

"Fenrisúlfr."

my brain short-circuits. No. That’s impossible. Impossible. He was