Page 2 of The Alpha's Arranged Mate

“How would you know that?” The kid looked genuinely surprised. Reeve frowned. This kid would’ve been a baby when he’d left the pack, if he’d even been born yet—but did he really not know that Reeve had been one of them?

“He trained me and my brother,” Reeve said, squinting at the kid. “I’m guessing Darion doesn’t talk about me much, huh?”

The kid flushed a little. “Only a little, when we were accepted to take part in this mission. He said you abandoned the pack when you were very young.”

“Right,” Reeve said drily. So Darion had been acting like Reeve had been barely out of diapers when he’d betrayed the pack and everything it stood for. He doubted that his brother had actually lied about it, but Darion always had been good at withholding exactly as much of the truth as was necessary to let people come to the conclusions he wanted. Part of Reeve wanted to correct this kid, but a larger part of him was too tired to bother. “So—what prompted you to follow a traitor out into the darkness, hm? You going to assassinate me so Darion can take over my pack?”

“No!” The kid looked horrified. “Of course not!” He made a strange little movement, as though he’d been about to drop to the ground and stopped himself, and Reeve had to suppress a laugh. Wolf-shape body language trying to manifest itself in a human-shaped body. The kid had tried to show him his belly to prove he wasn’t a threat.

“Relax, kid. It was a joke. You don’t spend much time in this shape, huh?” he added, nodding to the kid’s uneasy stance on two legs.

“No,” the kid said, and the subtle grind of resentment in his voice told Reeve that he was of the belief—shared by his pack—that that was for the best.

“Well, I won’t keep you.”

“It’s about the Alpha.” The kid shut his eyes for a moment, and Reeve could see that he was struggling to keep his composure. “He—I—I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I just—I don’t—I want us to be strong, I want us to be united, I—“

“Slow down.” Reeve felt a stirring of real unease as he watched the kid’s hands twisting uneasily at the hem of his shirt. He’d never seen one of Darion’s hyper-obedient lackeys like this. Whatever was bugging the kid, it was bugging him enough to overcome a huge amount of internal resistance. “I won’t tell anyone we talked, okay? You’re safe. I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Kear,” the kid said automatically. Then his face dropped. “Oh.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Kear.” Reeve hoped the kid couldn’t hear the laugh in his voice. “Now, speak. You’ve got me curious, and I hate suspense.”

“Alpha Darion is considering invoking one of the Old Rites,” Kear said in a rush, his face pale in the moonlight. Reeve blinked, searching his memory. The Old Rites were ancient wolf tradition passed down from before even written language had been developed, conveyed through the magical ancestral memory of the most ancient packs on Halforst. Knowledge of the Rites was a point of great pride for traditionalist packs like theirs. And Reeve had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming next.

“I’m guessing you’re not talking about the rites of protection.”

“No,” Kear said softly. “He’s been talking with the lorekeepers about the Rite of Unity.”

That wasn’t the rite’s full title, Reeve thought to himself, letting the kid’s words hang heavy in the air. Darion had been using a pleasant little euphemism. But from the stricken look on Kear’s face, he knew full well what it would entail. “I see.” His voice sounded strange and remote. “Well. I appreciate the heads-up, kid.”

“I don’t want it to come to that,” the young man said, apologetic, as though he bore some responsibility for the news he’d delivered. “I don’t—I don’t think wolf blood should be spilled by wolf claw. Not here. Not at the start of all this.”

“I’m with you, buddy.” Reeve shut his eyes, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be alone. “Thanks for telling me. Really. But you better get down to the training ring before Trinn’s bullshit sensors go off.”Kear nodded, but he lingered. Reeve sighed. “I don’t want it to come to that either. Do you have brothers, Kear? Sisters?”

The kid shook his head. “Just me.”

“You’ll have to take my word for it, then.” Reeve forced a smile he didn’t feel, hoping he could at least lighten the load for this kid. “Brothers fight. We’ll figure it out, him and me. Okay? It won’t come to a Blood Rite.”

Kear, at least, seemed a little relieved by that. But as Reeve watched the young wolf pad off into the darkness, he felt a shiver run through him as his brave front slipped away. The Blood Rite of Unity. It was the last of the Old Rites he and Darion had been taught, and for good reason. They’d been in the midst of their adolescence, gangly bodies growing by the day, but they’d felt much older than their years when they’d emerged from the sharing of that ancient knowledge. In dire circumstances, the Rite empowered an Alpha to make an ultimate challenge to another. A challenge for supremacy… a challenge that, once uttered, would meld two warring packs into one. And once there was only one pack, it followed that there would be only one Alpha.

The Blood Rite of Unity meant a fight to the death. It wasn’t a duel, where one participant could cry mercy—nor was it a battle, where unconsciousness or incapacitation could bring the struggle to an end. The rite only ended when one wolf lay dead. The Rite was a massacre. And once it was declared, there was no way out.

Reeve had thought he’d known how angry his brother was with him. But sitting there beneath the tranquil stars, Reeve realized for the first time that he hadn’t known a damn thing.

Chapter 2 - Lyrie

Lyrie felt strange about traveling alone. For as long as she could remember, the sound of her paws against the soil had always been a sound that echoed. She’d never journeyed more than a mile or two without at least a few of her fellow wolves beside her or ahead of her, scouting ahead or bringing up the rear. But right now, making her steady way down one of the oldest roads on Halforst, she was resoundingly aware of how solitary each pawstep sounded. It wasn’t the only thing that was making her anxious, but it certainly wasn’t helping. She felt so limited, with only her own senses to rely on to alert her to danger. This close to the middle of Halforst, of course, there was precious little risk of demonic attack. But you didn’t grow up on the dangerous fringes of wolven civilization without constant vigilance becoming part of your body.

She missed her pack terribly. It had been bad enough to part ways with so many of them three months ago, when they’d said their goodbyes to a full quarter of the pack’s number. It had felt strange to celebrate the greatest schism in the pack’s recorded history, but they reminded themselves again and again that the reason for the division was duty, and that eased the sting a little. Not enough to stop Lyrie secretly crying herself to sleep for a full week after they’d left, of course. It was a challenge to be welcomed, she told herself firmly. A leader ought to welcome the chance to suffer, to grow stronger in the face of hardship. And losing her teacher, her mentor, her closest friend—Lyrie could feel her heart aching even now, three months later.

Was that why she’d been called to Council Headquarters, she wondered? Could it be news from Darion and the Kurivon wing of their pack—their sister pack, she corrected herself quickly. Darion would always be her mentor, but he was no longer her Alpha. She was Alpha here on Halforst now, a role she’d been training for since she was a child. She’d been frightened that the pack wouldn’t accept her, that her youth would be too much, that the older wolves would chafe at taking instruction from a wolf young enough to be the previous Alpha’s daughter. But she needn’t have worried. With Darion’s vocal support, the pack had welcomed her leadership without challenge or objection. And she was determined to prove that their trust in her was well placed.

That was why it had been so frustrating to receive the summons from Council Headquarters so soon after the upheaval of the divide. It had been barely three months since the Kurivon delegation had left, and they had only just begun to ease into the rhythm of their life together as a smaller pack. Stranger still had been the instruction that she come to Headquarters alone. As capable a warrior as she was, a wolf alone was always vulnerable, everyone knew that. But the Council didn’t give orders lightly, and their authority transcended even an Alpha’s.

The upside to making the lonely journey in solitude was that she’d made excellent time. What was usually a journey of three days had taken her the better part of two, and now, with the sun low on the horizon, she knew she’d reach the ornate Council building just after nightfall. Even now, she could see the walled city at Halforst’s heart coming into view. She’d visited only once before, with Darion at her side. Could that really have only been a year ago? It felt like a lifetime. The day they’d learned about the mission to Kurivon… the day she’d learned that her Alpha would be leaving her behind. It had been one of the worst days of her life, for all that she’d tried to put a brave face on. Loss wasn’t something that came easy to Lyrie, not since the tragedy that had taken her parents from her as a child. At least Darion would still be out there, doing what he’d been born to do. Keeping this world safe from demons.

The fear returned to needle at her as she passed through the city gates. What if this unusual summons was to deliver terrible news? What if something had gone wrong with the mission to Kurivon—what if Darion had fallen in battle? It was always going to be dangerous. That was why the Council had asked Darion to take part, knowing what a powerful fighter he was, how long he and his pack had protected Halforst’s furthermost reaches from demonic encroachment. But something told Lyrie that that couldn’t be the case. She’d know, if her Alpha had been killed. She’d just know.

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