Chapter 108: Journey North
The wagons rolled out at dawn.
Seren sat at the front of the column, riding a chestnut mare that Kael had personally selected for her; calm-tempered but strong, he had said, capable of outrunning trouble if needed. Behind her stretched five wagons loaded with grain, dried meat, medicine, and warm blankets. Beside and between them walked forty soldiers: twenty wolves, twenty humans, their breath misting in the cold morning air.
Lysa rode at Seren’s left, her face pale but determined. Captain Voss flanked her right, his hand never far from his sword.
"You didn’t have to come," Seren said to Lysa.
"Yes, I did." Lysa pulled her cloak tighter against the wind. "Someone has to make sure you eat something other than hardtack and regret."
Seren almost smiled. "I’ve survived worse."
"Exactly. Which is why you think you’re invincible. You’re not."
Behind them, the palace walls grew smaller. Seren watched them shrink until they were nothing but a smudge on the horizon. Somewhere inside those walls, Aeron was already in his first council meeting. Theron was probably pacing his intelligence office, waiting for word from his operatives.
And Kael...
*Don’t.*
The bond hummed with his voice. She felt his frustration like a physical weight, his wolf pacing behind his eyes.
*I can feel you thinking about me,* Kael sent. *You’re worried.*
*I’m always worried. That’s my job.*
*Your job is to come back in one piece.*
*Then stop distracting me so I can focus on staying alive.*
She felt his reluctant laugh through the bond, a warm brush against her mind. Then the connection dimmed as he consciously pulled back, giving her space.
.
.
.
Three hours into the journey, the bond flared again.
This time it was Kael’s anger, sharp and hot. She pulled the mare to a halt, raising a hand to signal the column to stop.
"What is it?" Lysa asked.
Seren closed her eyes. Through the bond, she saw fragments; Kael’s hand on his sword, Theron’s voice tight with command, a door slamming.
*He tried to leave,* Theron’s voice came through, calm but strained. *He got as far as the stables before I caught him.*
*Three times,* Kael growled. *Three times I’ve tried to ride after you, and three times he’s stopped me.*
*And I’ll keep stopping you,* Theron replied. *You’re needed here. The strike force needs command. The council needs a military voice. If you go north, you abandon your duty.*
*Seren is my duty.*
*Seren is our mate. She’s also a queen who made a choice. Respect it.*
The bond flickered with Kael’s struggle...the wolf wanting to protect, the prince knowing he could not. Seren felt his pain as if it were her own.
*Kael.* She pushed warmth through the bond, love, reassurance. *I’m fine. The road is quiet. Voss has twice as many guards as necessary. Lysa is annoying me about food.*
*That doesn’t make me feel better.*
*It should. Lysa only nags people she expects to survive.*
A pause. Then: *You’re insufferable.*
*I learned from the best.*
The bond calmed. Kael’s anger faded into reluctant acceptance. She felt him turn away from the stables, felt Theron’s hand on his shoulder, felt the strategy room door close behind them.
*I’ll be home soon,* she sent.
*You’d better be.*
The connection dimmed again.
.
.
.
The column moved on.
By midday, they had crossed into the borderlands. The landscape changed—lush forests giving way to rocky hills and sparse pine. The air grew colder. Snow dusted the ground in patches.
Captain Voss rode up beside her. "We’re entering contested territory, Your Highness. Thorne’s scouts could be anywhere."
"Then we make ourselves visible." Seren straightened in her saddle. "We’re not hiding. We’re delivering aid. If Thorne wants to attack a humanitarian mission, that’s his choice. It’ll tell the northern villagers everything they need to know about who he really is."
Voss frowned. "That’s a risk."
"That’s the point." She met his eyes. "We’re not just bringing food and medicine. We’re bringing proof that the crown is different from what Thorne says. If we skulk through the border like thieves, we prove him right. So, we ride tall. We fly the royal banner. And we let the villagers see that we’re not afraid."
Voss was silent for a moment. Then he nodded. "As you command, Your Highness."
He rode back to his position, calling orders for the banner to be raised.
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.
.
That night, they camped in the ruins of a burned village.
It had been Oakstead, one of the three Thorne had destroyed. The buildings were skeletons of charred timber. The well was choked with ash. But the stone walls of an old barn still stood, and the soldiers cleared enough space for the wagons and the wounded.
Seren walked among the ruins as the sun set. Lysa walked beside her, silent for once.
"They had children here," Seren said quietly. "I saw a doll in the ashes. A little cloth thing, burned half away."
"There’s nothing we can do for them now."
"I know." Seren knelt and picked up a blackened piece of wood; part of a doorway, maybe, or a window frame. "But we can make sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s why we’re here."
She stood and turned back toward the camp.
In the distance, she saw figures watching from the treeline. Not soldiers—villagers, maybe. Survivors. They didn’t approach, but they didn’t run either.
They were watching.
*Let them watch,* Seren thought. *Let them see.*
She raised a hand in greeting. After a long moment, one of the figures raised a hand back.
Then they disappeared into the trees.
.
.
That night, Seren lay in her tent, the bond hummed softly with the triplets’ presence...Aeron’s steady calm, Kael’s restless vigilance, Theron’s sharp awareness. They were far away, but they were with her.
*Tomorrow we reach the first village,* she sent. *We’ll distribute aid. We’ll talk to the survivors. We’ll show them we’re not monsters.*
*You’re not a monster,* Kael replied. *You’re a queen.*
*Same thing, sometimes.*
*No.* Aeron’s voice, quiet but firm. *A monster takes. A queen gives. You’re giving. Remember that.*
She touched her locket, it was warm against her chest.
*I’ll remember.*
Outside, the wind howled.
Somewhere in the north, General Thorne was sharpening his blade, waiting for the queen to walk into his trap.
