The Cursed Lycan's Defiant Hidden Mate

Chynna POV:

My boots clicked against the frost-covered flagstones as I walked toward the black carriage.

The icy wind caught the hem of my heavy cloak, snapping the fabric against my shins.

All around the courtyard, stable hands and low-ranking guards averted their eyes. None of them dared to look directly at me; their hunched postures reeked of that superstitious dread reserved for corpses being carted away for burial.

The coachman was a withered old Beta with sunken cheeks. He did not bother climbing down to open the carriage door for me. He simply sat on the wooden bench, his hands clutching the reins, staring straight ahead into the gray fog.

I did not care for their petty courtesies.

Placing one hand on the rough wooden frame, I hoisted myself up and stepped into the dim interior.

The cabin smelled of stale dampness and old mold. The dark velvet cushions on the bench were torn and threadbare, leaving the straw stuffing exposed. Shadow Fortress had not even bothered to send a decent carriage to receive their new bride.

I leaned back against the hard wooden paneling and closed my eyes as the carriage lurched forward.

The wheels rattled violently over the frozen mountain ruts, shaking the carriage cabin with every bump, yet my pulse remained slow and steady.

Whispers from the court drifted through my memory: Prince Kellen Mcfadden, the Seventh Prince of the Empire, the disgraced war god whose legs had been destroyed by silver poison. A crippled, bloodthirsty Lycan who had already driven two royal brides to their gruesome deaths before the ink on their marriage scrolls had even dried.

A cold smirk touched the corner of my lips. If the man truly was that broken, a three-month survival pact would be far easier to manage than dealing with an active Alpha.

The carriage rolled through dense pine forests for nearly half a day. As we climbed higher into the mountain pass, the temperature dropped sharply, and the faint, suffocating pressure of a high-tier royal Alpha began to saturate the thin air.

I opened my eyes and pulled the corner of the leather curtain aside.

Perched on the edge of a sheer cliff stood a monolithic fortress constructed entirely from jagged black stone. It looked like a massive, sleeping beast carved into the side of the mountain.

The carriage lurched to a sudden halt some twenty paces from the fortress entrance. The two black horses up front stamped their hooves nervously, blowing white steam into the freezing air.

"We are here! Get out!" the old Beta shouted from the box, his voice trembling with an urgent need to flee.

I pushed the creaking door open.

The bitter mountain wind struck my face immediately, carrying needles of ice that bit into my exposed skin.

I jumped down from the carriage step, my boots crunching into the hard-packed, frozen mud. Looking around the desolate clearing, there was no herald, no welcoming party, and not a single lantern lit to receive the Emperor's arranged bride.

Directly in front of me, the twin iron gates of Shadow Fortress stood thirty feet high, sealed shut. The massive iron wolf heads carved into the metal doors stared down with hollow, frozen eyes.

Behind me, the whip cracked through the air. The old Beta did not utter a single farewell; he turned the horses around in a panicked frenzy and drove the carriage back down the mountain road, disappearing into the swirling fog within seconds.

I stood alone in the center of the barren stone square, the wind tearing at my black cloak.

High up on the battlements, heavily armored sentries leaned against the stone parapets. They looked down at me through the slits of their iron helms, smirking as if watching a stray dog left outside to freeze to death.

I lifted my chin, meeting their mocking stares with cold, unwavering focus. My spine remained rigid.

I took my first step forward, the hard leather of my boots cracking the thin glaze of ice over the ground, heading straight for the locked iron gates.

When I was five paces from the threshold, a gruff, booming voice echoed down from the ramparts. "Halt! Shadow Fortress is a restricted military outpost! Strangers are forbidden!"

I stopped, tilting my head back slightly. My voice was clear, sharp, and cut through the howling wind like a blade. "I am the Seventh Princess, wed by the decree of the Alpha King. Open the gates."

A burst of raucous, insulting laughter erupted along the stone wall.

The guard captain leaned over the edge, resting his iron gauntlets on the stone. "His Royal Highness gave strict orders! Shadow Fortress does not accept discarded trash! Take your wolfless carcass back to where you crawled from!"

My hands curled into tight fists beneath the folds of my cloak, my knuckles turning white with tension. The temperature in my eyes dropped below zero.

If they refused to open the doors with dignity, I would simply open them myself.

My gaze shifted toward the edge of the stone square, where several massive cedar logs lay stacked against the cliff wall, left behind from recent siege repairs. Each trunk was so thick it would take three grown men to wrap their arms around it.

I walked over to the largest log in the pile.

Under the bewildered, mocking gazes of the guards who thought I had lost my mind, I slowly rolled back the sleeves of my cloak.

I drew a deep breath, unlocking a thread of the suppressed White Wolf strength coiled tightly inside my core, channeling the raw power directly into my arms and back.

I bent my knees, digging my fingers deep into the rough, frozen bark. With a low, guttural exhale, I straightened my legs and hoisted the thousand-pound siege log onto my shoulder.

The laughter on the battlements died instantly.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the entire fortress.