The art of breaking wolves

You've had three dinners and two walks. Why hasn't he touched you yet?"

The Princess smirked, her lips painted in muted wine and eyes lined in kohl. She wore a fitted coat of indigo velvet trimmed in silver thread, its high collar brushing her jaw, and her boots, a soft black hide too fine for war, crossed with one boot resting over her knee, utterly unbothered. "Because he's not a fool. And unlike you, I don't rush my prey. Men like Kael don't respond to desperate."

Maravelle's jaw tightened. She poured herself wine but didn't drink it. "He's not prey. He's a tool. I don't care how you get into his bed, just do it before that simpering little flower convinces him love matters."

"Iris?" the princess laughed softly. "That girl still thanks servants for brushing her hair. You're worried about her?"

"She's weak," Maravelle snapped. "But men like Kael fall for weakness. They think they're protecting something delicate. It makes them feel noble. It's how you trap a wolf, give him something he thinks only he can defend."

"And you want me to take that away."

"I want you to make him ashamed of it. Make her look small. Stupid. Inadequate."

The princess leaned forward, voice dropping low. "And when I do, what then? You owe me more than titles and jewels."

"I'll give you a border city and trade rights through Vargorath's west gate. You'll have your piece of the empire."

"And Kael?"

"He won't marry you. But he won't marry her either. That's all I need."

The princess stood, slowly, the weight of her boots echoing faintly against the marble floor. She pulled on her gloves one finger at a time, her eyes gleaming like a predator. "You want him broken. Just say it."

"I want him loyal," Maravelle said, calm and clear. "To me. Not to his bleeding-heart brother. And certainly not to some moon-eyed girl who reads poems to the palace birds."

Lysandra as she was called smirked. "Consider it done."

Maravelle didn't watch her go. She simply sat back, sipped her wine at last, and whispered to the silence:

"Let the game begin."

....

Prince Aedric strode into the Queen's chambers without waiting to be announced, a folded parchment in hand and a knowing gleam in his eye. The queen sat before a low table, sipping fragrant tea from a delicate silver cup, her expression serene but expectant.

"Well?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

Aedric offered a mocking bow, then held out the parchment. "Information, as requested. Our little guest had quite the humble beginnings. A backwater village near the eastern ridge. Parents are common traders, they move around a lot, no one seems to recall in detail exactly when they arrived in that village."

Maravelle finally lifted her gaze, taking the parchment with dainty fingers. She read in silence, her face betraying no reaction until she reached the end.

"A nobody," she said coldly. "No bloodline. No title. No worth."

"She fought off a pack of rogues, they say," Aedric added with a shrug. "Perhaps she's not entirely helpless."

Maravelle gave him a withering look. "Savage instincts."

"Why would he care so much about a nobody"

She rose, letting the parchment fall to the floor like discarded refuse.

"Obviously to annoy me. He knows I sought out the alliance with the Starborns. He may be king, but Vargorath is not his alone to command. He forgets what is expected. What is owed to our people. A throne can only be shared with a powerful Queen."

Aedric arched a brow. "Then what will you do, my queen?"

Maravelle crossed the room, pausing just before him. "I intend to remind him what his duty looks like."

Without another word, she turned to the tall cabinet in the corner. Her fingers danced over its carved edge before she unlocked it with a small ornate key drawn from a hidden pocket in her sleeve. She sifted through scrolls and ledgers until she found the box, An old, dark wooden box, etched with worn sigils. Lifting the lid, she removed a velvet pouch, its weight unmistakable. She tied a folded note to its drawstrings and sealed it with wax.

"Cormac," she called coolly.

The door opened a moment later, boots thudding softly against the stone as her personal and most trusted guard stepped in and bowed.

She turned to him meeting his gaze. "Take this," she said, placing the pouch firmly in his palm. "This is to be delivered. Personally."

Aedric, still leaning by the hearth, watched her with a narrowed gaze. "Now what?"

She didn't look at him. Her hands clasped behind her back, her voice low and certain.

"Now we wait," she said. "And see who blinks first."

....

Back in the war room.

"She says her village was attacked by rogues," Thornak said. "Darkpine Ridge. It's a human territory far from our patrol routes."

Kael frowned. "What would rogues be doing out there?"

"Taking girls," Thornak replied. "She said her father helped her escape."

Ruvan arched a brow. "Impressive."

"And she's wolfless."Thornak added. "But she's clearly been trained. She held her ground longer than most would."

Kael raised a brow. "So you're saying the woman your wolf has claimed… has no wolf? Do we believe her?"

"We verify her story," Thornak said firmly. "Send scouts to Darkpine Ridge. Discreetly. I want confirmation on the attack and her family's survival."

Ruvan gave a short nod. "And the rogues?"

"Track them. If they're operating in that region, we need to know how close they've gotten to our borders, and who's giving them orders." He looked between the two. "I want answers by the end of the week. I have a feeling this is connected to the recent attacks on our boarders.

Thornak's gaze hardened. "Kael, arrange for Lara to serve as my personal maid. No one questions who I keep near."

Kael frowned. "Won't that stir suspicion?"

"It's the only way to protect her that I can think of," Thornak said. "At my side, no one touches her without going through me."