The trip to Alpha Tophet's territory is a lonely one. As fast on his four legs as he is, Tophet jumps between groups and maintains control over the army as a whole. I remain in one of the last parties with my four men and ten of his, and I come to the conclusion that this party is constructed with the sole purpose of containing me. Unlike the others, our party is smaller and undeniably focused on my whereabouts rather than our progress to the territory. Every time I stray, one of his wolves appears to herd me back in.

Regardless, my body is in turmoil. No matter how badly I require a break, I push myself and push myself to prove that I don't need to stop. No breaking, he said in that pompous, irritating voice. Fine. I don't want to. And I'll continue driving that thought into my head until it becomes true.

Three hours into our journey, I find my vision blurring. My footwork has been sloppy for half of our time now, and the pairing of such things results in a stumble. My legs tangle and my body plows into a small snowbank, soon halted by a tree. The party gathers as I shake off the powdery snow. One of my guards comes forward. He gestures for me to get on his back — to ride the rest of the way.

It seems like a comfortable idea, an opportunity to find a moment of rest in this restless affair.

I fantasize about my bed and bath and dining table crammed with dishes. I haven't demanded so much from my wolf since I was a child racing my brother from one end of our territory to the other. Every shifter knows that a well-exercised wolf is a large aspect of our health, but as Alpha, I've needed my voice more often than my bite.

The rope around my heart tightens, and when I look in the direction of the tugging, I see Tophet's hellish, black wolf lurking in the trees. The fur around his mouth is wet and drips blood into the snow. He must have caught and eaten some small animal to vitalize himself. No, I communicate to my men and lift to indicate my ability to resume.

I plead with my wolf to show Tophet that we cannot be so easily beaten and, bless the Goddess, she does. My bones scrape against each other in protest, and I grind my teeth to weather the pain, but my wolf complies, and I breathlessly will her onward.

~•~

The trip comes to a merciful conclusion after another hour of running. The seemingly infinite forest ends and, in the distance, lies a grand, stone wall similar to the one incasing my own keep. The city must culminate on the other side of the keep then scatter outward into smaller villages and farmlands.

There is a station at the backend of the walls that surround this large fortress; here we gather, and the wolves shift and dress to enter the gates — shedding their wild nature and leaving it in the forest where it belongs. Inside the building are partitions for privacy, and I heave myself into an especially closed-off stall. My clothing was carried in the side bag of one of my guards, and he — now shifted and dressed — leaves it for me then stands protectively at the open entrance, facing the busy room.

I shift with an aching groan. The soreness and weakness of my human body are almost too much to bear, but I refuse to whine. The old Brea would cry — the princess that refused to leave her mother's womb — but this Brea would rather bleed than shed a tear.

Piece by piece, I slowly construct my outfit. The remainder of the army passes through by the time I finish, but merely looking respectful fails to make me move like a lady. My fingers grip at the bricks in an attempt to walk out of the stall as my legs tremor like a woman's four times my age. The guard peers over his shoulder and steps aside to grant my passage but quickly realizes my need for help. He slides under my arm and bears half my weight. Together we enter the main hall, and I immediately feel my stomach plummet at the sight of Tophet.

He himself appears perfectly fine. If I had the energy to feel irritated, I would, but instead, I give into my exhaustion. He's seen it now; there's no point in pretending.

Alpha Tophet eyes my current, pitiful state for a moment more. "I have someone to show you to your accommodations," he says. "You'll be brought to dinner in two hours."

He leaves without hearing my reply, striding through the building then past the open gates. A handful of his men linger while a select few follow.

"What is his name?" I ask the lot of them, and they look at each other. "As his mate, I'm asking you."

One brave warrior says, "Alexei," and the sound of it draws a breath into my chest. Alexei Tophet.

I nod. "Then whoever is showing me to my apartment, please do so quickly."

One of the men separates from the rest, and he guides me and my guards through the back gate. The courtyard inside of the gate is filled with people consumed by their duties and jobs, walking directly with gazes that cling to me only briefly. Countless crates from what I assume to be a recent trade take up much space, and I stare as items are accounted for — listed on sheets of parchment. We move around the workers and enter the keep through a cobblestone tunnel. One of the two doors at its end is held open, and we enter.

The inside of the keep isn't so different from home. All of our fortresses are made of stone brick and carved pillars and stately staircases. Arched windows line the walls, casting rays of light, and I step in and out of the beams as we're led down the hallway whose ceiling is high and vaulted. Sound echoes and our footsteps are no exception.

The size of the place only grows as we traverse from room to room and climb staircase after staircase. My apartment is in the section of the keep dedicated to such things. Here the ceilings aren't so high, and the walls are adorned with opulent-framed artwork and silled windows.

"I want one of you guarding outside my door as long as I'm in there," I direct my men. "And don't let anyone in without asking me first."

The views out these windows reveal the opposite side of the territory — the city that I thought must be hiding behind the fortress. The landscape slopes downward from the keep, and the city builds upwards to its walls. The buildings vary in height, but the glass domed roofs of the temple — the house to worship the Goddess — stand out to me the second they come into my sights. My pack's temple is topped by the same domed design. Through all of our wars and conflicts, the Alphas and packs of this land nurture the same culture.

Then there are witches and creatures with practices that differ from the shifters. The humans — who are nearly extinct — are as plain as a being comes in this world. Old stories portray shifters as tricksters. They appear as human, so helpless and fragile, then change in the blink of an eye into something so detrimental. Before our reign, the humans ruled this land, but our ancestors so easily crept into their towns and tore them apart.

"This is where you'll be staying, Alpha Pryor," The guide tells me outside of one particular set of doors. He then opens them and waits just inside the doorframe for me to assess the apartment.

I roam about the rooms — the sitting room, the bed-chamber, and the washroom — all acceptable. The bed is large and stacked with goose-feather pillows sat atop blankets of furs, velvet, and fine linens. Intricate carpets line the stone floor, and two woven tapestries hang on either wall. There are also two sizable windows traced over with diamond-shaped lattice, and the small latches between the panes tell me they can be opened. However, in this season, it is best to keep windows closed.

The fireplace opposite the bed will keep me warm, and I see there is already wood placed inside. "This will do just fine," I say to my guide.

"My Alpha told me you will need clothes and other necessities, so a delivery of all goods will be brought to your chambers shortly. Your service is on hand and can—"

"I don't need service," I interrupt. "I will handle everything myself."

"Uh — very well," the guide says. "You will be collected and taken to dinner at eight. There is a clock mounted there." He points to the brown metal contraption with us in the sitting room. "If you change your mind about your servants, they can be returned to you, and if you require no further assistance, I will show your guards to their accommodations as well."

"You are free to go," I say, but before he takes my men, I turn to them. "Go on with him for now, but afterward, I want someone here as I said. You can do it in shifts — divide the work."

"Yes, Alpha," One guard answers for all of them. Since this group will be with me for a bit, I may as well learn their names as they look after me. Until Tabitha arrives, they are the only people I can trust.

The men leave my chambers, and I return to the washroom. If I'm going to fill, use, and empty my bath with enough time leftover to get dressed and fix my hair, I'm going to have to get started right away. Servants would expedite these laborious tasks, but they cannot be trusted to not gossip. For all I know, Tophet has ordered these servants to report directly to him with any suspicious behavior or strange findings such as the bizarre markings slashed along my back. I can't trust even my own service at home let alone those on enemy territory. Even a scarless leader would be smart enough to ditch their two-timing servants and fill a bath on their own.

The tub is coppersmithed rather than made of wood. The brownish metal is smooth under my touch and is large enough to fit two people. I wonder if all tubs in this keep are so big, and I contemplate for a short while why anyone would want to share their bathwater. My face soon straightens, and I busy myself by getting to work.

Every bucket of hot water that I pour into the tub works my body to its breaking point. My teeth clench long enough to make my jaw sore, but I force myself to continue. It's easier to punish my human body in this way because my wolf body often has a mind of its own and is eager to refuse me. I know from today's travel that I will be unable to shift for the following days; therefore, I pray nothing here justifies a defensive shifting.

Tabitha believes I'm safer here than anywhere else. She thinks Tophet will protect me, but his distance during our journey wasn't something I would call protective. Truthfully, he doesn't seem very interested in me as of this morning, and the mated female inside of me is irked by that. My saying please, Alexei is what Tabitha deems the universal tool against all men, yet the very idea of playing romantic games makes me uneasy.

I don't think there would be anything more humiliating than having Tophet reject my pleading. Nevertheless, the man has to trust me, and trust isn't gained by acting as coldly as he does.

My bath reaches my desired depth, so I set the still-hot bucket next to the water pump to cool off from its time over the fire. I undress and test the water temperature with my hand before shakily lowering in. My muscles finally feel some relief; my body melts like candle wax, and I know I've worked myself too hard, but I cannot hobble to dinner and let Tophet revel in my discomfort. Truthfully, I don't know if I can walk all the way to the dining hall, not with those unforgiving, endless staircases. My head tilts back, and I stare up at the ceiling as I realize the looming struggle to simply get out of this tub.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

There is only one way to heal so swiftly without Tabitha. If seeking help from the God will keep me from looking weak, then I will do what must be done.

I murmur in an ancient language Tabitha taught me only snippets of. It is the language she speaks when using witchcraft, and the unnerving sound of it cramps my stomach. The fragments I know are only spoken to summon — I only do so when I feel there is no other solution, and being on enemy territory tends to make one feel panicked for power.

My skin tightens and pimples in the hot water. The atmosphere of the room tilts as what lurks below rises above. He leaks out of the corners of the room, slipping into this world from somewhere in between, and I shamefully extend my arm into the crisp air, pointing my gaze away. His hands latch onto me, His nails pressing into the fleshy skin of my forearm. It hurts when He bites, and no matter how many times I endure it, I always flinch and whimper.

The God drinks my Alpha blood like robust wine. I feel it sucking out of my veins to then pour into the vacuum of His boundless body.

A favor will always cost me — healing, warriors to fight in an army — all of it comes with a price.

I recline against the back of the tub as He continues to devour me. My body, ailing before, sinks into a fog of total enervation. But I will begin my resurrection once He lets go. I will replenish and prepare for dinner.

For now, I lay limp in the tub, hoping He doesn't drain me— finish me off like the small creature Tophet devoured and dripped into the snow. I see it — the image of the blood soaked in his fur — on my inner eyelids.

I watch his wolf until the God releases me and drips my blood onto the stone floor. The delicate pattering kisses my ears, and I allow myself time to rest.