Chapter 2 A Line in the Dirt

By the time Seren reached the edge of the training grounds, the clouds had gathered over the mountains. The wind carried the smell of coming rain through the trees, lifting loose strands of hair from her braid. She pressed a hand to her side. The ache beneath her ribs was getting worse. Riven had struck harder than necessary, and he knew it. He always knew exactly how much force to use when he wanted to make a point without leaving an injury serious enough for the healer to question him. That was one of his particular talents: making cruelty look like discipline. "Seren." She closed her eyes briefly. Of course. Riven approached from behind, his footsteps unhurried. The warriors had dispersed, leaving the two of them alone beneath the darkening sky. "If you're about to tell me I need more training, save your breath," she said. "I was going to tell you that your stance is too open on the left." She turned. "You knocked me down three times. I think I noticed." "You noticed the result. You haven't corrected the mistake." "I'm not asking for a lesson." "Your pride is going to get you hurt." Seren gave a short laugh. "You say that as if you aren't usually the one doing the hurting." His expression changed, but only slightly. "You keep turning every instruction into an accusation." "And you keep disguising every insult as advice." Rain began to tap against the leaves. Riven glanced towards the packhouse, where the windows glowed gold against the grey afternoon. "The council meets tonight. I don't want another scene from you." There it was. Not concern. Not an apology. An order. "What does the council meeting have to do with me?" "Your father's old patrol records are being reviewed." Seren's anger sharpened. "Why?" "Because there are gaps in the border reports from the winter before he died." "My father reported every patrol." "Some records are missing." "Then look for the records. Don't use his name to threaten me." "I'm not threatening you." "You always say that right before you do." Riven's gaze held hers. "If the council asks you questions, answer them. Don't accuse people without proof." "Who am I supposed to accuse?" "Anyone you like, once you have evidence." The answer was too controlled. Seren studied him, searching for the impatience she knew so well. Beneath it, she found something else-an unease that vanished as soon as she noticed it. "What aren't you telling me?" "Nothing." "Then you won't mind if I attend." "You aren't on the council." "I can still listen." "No." The word came down like a gate slamming shut. Seren stepped closer. "You don't get to decide what I can know about my father." "I decide who enters a closed council meeting." "And I decide whether I obey you." His eyes flashed silver. The Alpha's wolf stirred beneath his skin, pressing against the restraint he kept around it. Seren felt the shift in the air. Every instinct she possessed told her to lower her gaze. She didn't. "Careful," he said. "Or what?" "Don't test how far I can be pushed." "You've spent years testing me. Perhaps you should find out what happens when I stop stepping back." A low growl vibrated in his chest. Seren's own wolf answered, a restless movement beneath her ribs. She was not as powerful as he was, and they both knew it. But strength had never been the same thing as permission. Riven looked away first. "Go home," he said. "The healer should check your ribs." "I'll decide that." He turned towards the packhouse. Seren watched him go, unsettled by the mention of her father's records. Her father had died on a border patrol that the pack still described as an unfortunate accident. She had been young, angry, and too overwhelmed by grief to question the details. Over the years, whenever she asked, she was told the same thing: the matter had been investigated and closed. But missing records were not an answer. They were another question. She started towards the packhouse, then stopped. A narrow trail cut through the trees towards the old patrol station. It had been abandoned after the northern boundary was moved, but her father used to keep spare maps there. If the records were missing, perhaps something else had survived. The council meeting could wait. The truth about her father could not. Seren turned towards the old trail. She had taken only a few steps when a voice called from the trees. "Going somewhere you're not supposed to be?" Riven stood between two dark trunks, his arms folded. Seren's stomach tightened. "Do you plan to follow me everywhere?" "Only when you make it necessary." "Then you should prepare for a very busy life." She moved to pass him. He shifted into her path. "Not tonight, Seren." She looked past him towards the trail. "Move." "No." The rain thickened, pattering against the leaves and soaking the shoulders of his shirt. Seren could have turned back. She could have waited until he left. Instead, she planted her feet. "You can order the warriors around," she said. "You can frighten the council. But you cannot keep me from asking what happened to my father." Something cold settled in his expression. "Then ask your questions carefully." "Why? Is the truth dangerous?" Riven didn't answer. That silence told her more than she wanted to know.