Chapter 9 - Here For A Reason

Lyra

Inside the Den’s office, a trace of lavender tempered the otherwise austere space. The den was what they called Alpha Veyron’s home. A sprawling fortress carving strength and primal elegance into the heart of the grasslands. The three storied structure, built from dark timber and reinforced stone, embodied the raw power of the wolves who ruled this territory. 

While it was large enough to house the pack, only those who served within its walls chose to make it their home. Instead of sharing quarters, most of Alpha Veyron’s people chose to move into their own houses. Such distance between pack members was strange. But if their alpha was as domineering as she’d heard, it was no wonder his pack didn’t want to be near him.

Behind a large wooden desk, worn and polished to a near mirror-like sheen, the Keeper of the Den examined Lyra with a gaze that could pierce armor, white streaks ran through her dark braid.

“Do you know,” the Keeper began, her voice smooth yet cold, “what happened to the last maid who served Alpha Veyron?”

“No, ma’am.”

The Keeper leaned back, steepling her fingers and probing Lyra for weakness. “Terminated. For her disobedience.”

The word "terminated" echoed in her mind. Had her aunts sent her to her doom? She clung to their assurances. This was where she needed to be. But why?

“Do you know what disobedience looks like in this household?” the Keeper asked, tilting her head slightly.

Lyra swallowed, drawing on her  service to her stepmother and stepsister. "It means failing to align with the will of our Alpha.”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow, approval flashing across her expression. “To fail is to forfeit your place. Perfection is required.”

Lyra nodded, keeping her gaze low. 

“You’re here because Kyline brought you here and she is well respected. But why do you think you’ll succeed where the last one failed?”

“I’ve spent my life in service,” Lyra answered. “I know how to observe, to work quickly and quietly. And I am honored to be offered a place in our Alpha’s home.” She bowed a deep curtsy.

The Keeper leaned forward slightly. “You might survive.” She sounded amused. "The great hall will be your first trial. Succeed here, and the Alpha himself will decide if you stay."

As Lyra stood to leave, the Keeper’s voice stopped her.

“One last thing,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Keep your ears open. There’s more to serving Alpha Veyron than polishing his halls. Understand?”

Lyra’s heart raced as she nodded. She understood perfectly. This was no mere test of cleanliness, her future would be determined by Alpha Veyron.

****

Lyra worked silently, the rhythmic strokes of her scrubbing brush against the stone floor blending with the quiet murmurs of the other servants. The Keeper left the room but she would be back. Yet under Lyra’s touch, dust dared not linger. 

One maid, a young woman with an anxious tremor in her voice, whispered, “Do you think he’ll return soon, Kaela?”

Lyra focused on the rough stone floor. Swift, efficient strokes. Her mind trained to block out distractions, but the conversation around her pricked at her attention.

Kaela shook her head with a wry smile. “Not likely, Daphne. He’s busy, putting things in order after his latest conquest.” 

Latest conquest? Was she speaking so flippantly about Lyra’s old home? She held her breath, moving on to another stain.

Kaela bent over, lifting a cloth to polish a nearby wooden beam. “Don’t you wonder what it's like, to be in the path of a force like him?”

The words drew the other's eyes, busy with their own tasks. 

Daphne laughed nervously. “I heard it is a brutal path. He doesn’t leave survivors.”

“Not a single one,” a third maid whispered. “He took the alpha hostage… humiliated and broke him.” She shivered, her gaze flickering over to the distant hallway where the sound of heavy boots echoed.

Lyra’s grip tightened on the brush handle as the image of her once proud father, broken and beaten, took root in her mind. The cruelty… the cold precision. 

And Lyra was his daughter, his first born. How would these women react if they knew she was Aldric’s heir?

“You’re right, Rowena. Veyron’s ruthless,” Kaela murmured, as she added another layer of polish to the dark wood. “He sent his message.”

Daphne gasped, her voice shaking. “What about the children? Did he—?”

Rowena cut her off, grimly. “None were left in the village.”

If he had killed everyone, where were the bodies? The only one left behind was Maris. Her mind filled with images of people she cared about discarded in a ditch somewhere, no one to give them their last rites.

Before Lyra could ask, the Keeper stepped into the room, her gaze narrowing on the maids. 

“Enough chatter,” she snapped. “You’ve work to do.”

The maids fell silent, returning to their tasks. Lyra’s hand moved in measured strokes across the floor. But the images the maids had painted in her mind refused to leave. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. There was no room for weakness.

It was mere seconds after the Keeper stepped out of the room, Daphne whispered, “Do you think he’ll notice us when he comes back?” 

“If he does, it won’t be for long,” Kaela replied with a rueful smile. “He’s only got eyes for one.”

“The Mistress Of Shadows,” Rowena murmured beneath her breath, as if speaking her name would summon her.

As they talked, Lyra learned this mistress was his second-in-command and practically his Luna. But they weren’t mated and rumor was she wasn’t a wolf but a witch… 

“She’s untouchable,” Kaela returned, glancing around. “But can you imagine being her? Being in his bed? Even for one night?”

“Even if it meant bruises?” Daphne answered, shivering. “Or broken bones?”

“Especially so,” Rowena countered with a sly grin. “I heard he is a fierce lover.”

It was strange hearing them speaking of being terrified and enthralled in equal measure. This wasn’t her world. It wasn’t her place. And yet, her aunt’s final words pressed on her heart. She was here for a reason.