I CLAIMED THE DISCARDED LUNA

Chapter 2: The Iron Fortress

The carriage crossed the heavy drawbridge into the Frostfang Citadel just as midnight struck. Torchlight flickered against black granite walls that carved into the mountain rock itself, stark and unyielding compared to Silvermoon’s polished marble.

Kaelen stepped out first, extending a steady hand to steady Seraphina as she navigated the frozen stone steps. She didn't lean into his weight, but she didn't refuse the gesture either, her violet eyes already tracing the guard rotations along the battlements.

"Four archer posts," Seraphina murmured, her breath clouding in the freezing air. "Overlapping kill zones, but your eastern blind spot near the supply gates relies entirely on torch sight lines. A blizzard would blind them."

Kaelen halted on the stairs, looking at her over his shoulder. A slow, quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. "I’ve told my defense captain that exact sentence for three winters. He insisted the elevation made up for it."

"Elevations don't stop shadow-walkers," she replied dryly, stepping past him into the warmth of the keep’s grand foyer.

Before Kaelen could answer, the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall swung open. A tall, scarred wolf in dark iron battle gear marched down the runner, flanked by four royal guards. His graying hair was pulled tight, his amber eyes locked onto Kaelen before flicking to Seraphina with immediate, cold hostility.

General Vane.

Kaelen’s supreme commander, his mentor since Kaelen’s father fell at the Border War, and the man Kaelen trusted above all others in his command.

"Your Majesty," Vane said, bowing his head just enough to satisfy protocol. "The border scouts reported your aura flare three miles out. You brought an unvetted Silvermoon officer into the war room?"

"Lady Seraphina is under Crown Sanctuary, General," Kaelen said, his voice dropping into a low, firm register that permitted no debate. "She takes her seat on the High Council as my Chief Strategic Advisor, effective immediately."

Vane’s jaw tightened. "A rejected Silvermoon strategist? With respect, Sire, the southern dukes are already restless over the war tax. Elevating a stateless outcast over your own commanders will provoke a mutiny among the high houses."

Kaelen stepped forward, his posture lengthening as his Alpha aura pulsed gently through the hall a silent reminder of who held the crown. "The high houses can voice their concerns at the morning assembly. Until then, General, you will grant her full clearance to the central ledgers."

Vane held Kaelen’s gaze for a long, tense second before inclining his head. "As you command, Sire." He turned his amber eyes onto Seraphina, his expression unreadable. "Welcome to the Frostfang Realm, Lady Seraphina. I hope your calculations are as sharp as your reputation."

"Sharper, General," Seraphina replied without missing a beat. "I’ll need the quartermaster's requisition logs for the last twelve months delivered to the council chamber."

Vane’s eyes narrowed slightly a micro expression so brief Kaelen would have missed it if he hadn't been watching them both. "The quartermaster logs are archived in the lower vault. I will have my aides gather them by morning."

"Tonight," Kaelen interjected, his gaze settling on Vane with quiet weight. "My advisor works fast, Vane. Have them on the table in an hour."

Vane bowed stiffly and turned on his heel, his heavy cape snapping behind him as he marched down the eastern corridor.

Kaelen led Seraphina up the spiral staircase into his private war room. A massive carved wooden map of the Northern Continent dominated the center of the room, lit by oil lanterns. Iron markers represented the Frostfang legions, while silver markers outlined the surrounding packs.

Seraphina walked directly to the map, unbuttoning her cloak and tossing it over a high-backed chair. She reached down, picked up a silver marker from the Silvermoon territory, and shifted it three inches south, placing it directly over a mountain pass inside the Frostfang border.

Kaelen watched her move, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the heavy oak desk. "That pass is unmapped on public charts."

"Public charts are drawn to comfort nobles," Seraphina said, leaning over the table, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "Your public war ledgers show twelve thousand gold allocated monthly to 'Border Wall Repair' in that exact quadrant. But stone doesn't eat grain, Kaelen. Your quartermaster is purchasing three thousand rations of salted beef and winter oats every two weeks for a garrison that officially doesn't exist."

Kaelen felt that same cold spike from the carriage hit his chest once more.

He walked around the table until he stood beside her, looking down at the map where her finger rested. He was close enough to catch the faint heat radiating off her skin, but his mind was racing through every report Vane had handed him over the past six months.

"Vane handles all southern quartermaster approvals," Kaelen said slowly, his voice flat as he confronted the horrifying geometry of her words. "He told me those allocations were emergency reserves for the winter drought."

"Emergency reserves are stored in central silos, not distributed to hidden border camps," Seraphina said, turning her head to look directly up into his eyes. Her voice was calm, devoid of pity or triumph just cold, undeniable fact. "You trust General Vane with your life, don't you?"

"He pulled me from the blood at the Battle of Red Ridge when I was eighteen," Kaelen said quietly, his eyes dark. "He built my father's army."

"Then he knows your blind spots better than anyone on this continent," Seraphina replied gently. She reached down, picking up a black iron piece representing Kaelen's elite royal guard, and set it right next to the hidden pass. "If you confront him without absolute proof, he won't deny it. He’ll trigger the camp, call in the southern dukes, and declare you unfit to rule before sunrise."

Kaelen looked from the map to Seraphina. For seven months, he had thought he was bringing her here to solve a financial leak. He realized now that her presence in his keep was the only thing standing between him and a silent coup.

"The logs arrive in an hour," Kaelen said, his hand coming down onto the table beside hers, his grip tight against the wood. "Show me every signature on those grain receipts."

Seraphina looked down at his hand, then up into his dark crimson eyes, a small, resolute smile touching her lips. "Get the parchment, Your Majesty. We have a war to stop."