The Alpha’s Rejected Bond The Feast She Gave Away

I had never wanted to bring them into the pack's work-circles in the first place.

"They share your blood now," I had reminded myself. "Some of them are elders of their own lines. If they fail at their duties, how am I supposed to correct them—bare my fangs at wolves twice my age?"

Howl had convinced me otherwise.

"They have all struggled through hard winters. Extend your protection if you can. We are all bound by the same pack-ties now."

So I had relented.

Alyra had only completed her first hunt this turning. She could not even organize a simple territory report. To sharpen her skills, I had personally funded her enrollment in an advanced craft-training with the guild masters—twenty thousand in resource shares from my own storehouse.

My second-aunt's son worked as a scout-runner for the pack. His tracking numbers sat at the very bottom of every ledger. I had been preparing to reassign him to lesser duties, and now he wanted a larger winter share?

And then there was Elder Stellan Thornforge—a retired laborer from the old iron-works whom I had brought into supply runs out of obligation. He could barely lift the equipment crates. Half the time, he had to beg wolves from other dens to carry his load.

I was not running a pack. I was running a refuge for wolves who believed they honored me by accepting my protection.

I had assumed they would show gratitude.

Instead, they had gathered their voices together to make demands.

I set down my eating knife. My voice emerged cold as frost-wind.

"If you find the pack's resource distribution unsatisfactory, you are welcome to seek better arrangements elsewhere. I lead a modest territory. I cannot afford to keep moon-blessed deities on my provision rolls."

The feast hall went silent. Expressions shifted like shadows under clouds.

Dahlia was the first to bare her teeth.

"My daughter serving under your banner is a privilege for you. And you have the arrogance to posture like this?"

She turned her muzzle toward my bond-mother.

"Can you believe this, Deirdra? Your son's bondmate grows bolder with each moon. She will not even grant her own blood-kin a scrap of honor."

My bond-mother straightened her spine, assuming her matriarch stance with practiced ease.

"Selene. Offer your apologies to everyone gathered here. Now."

A cold laugh escaped my throat, and I held her gaze without flinching.

"Apologize for what? I am the Alpha. They are pack members under my authority."

"My territory does not chain anyone to their duties. If they are unhappy, they may leave whenever they choose."

I turned to face them directly.

"Alyra—have I ever treated you unfairly?"

"Evren Ironpelt—you know exactly what your tracking records show."

"Elder Stellan—if you would truly prefer to return to rest, I will not prevent it."

All three of them went pale as winter-starved deer.

Alyra spoke up immediately, her voice small.

"Selene, I am truly grateful. Thank you for everything."

Evren dropped his head low.

"The larger share is not that important, actually..."

Stellan cleared his throat with obvious discomfort.

"Everything is fine. All is well..."

The hall fell into heavy silence.

But my bond-mother was not satisfied. She planted her hands on her hips and raised her voice until it echoed off the stone walls.

"What is wrong with all of you?"

"I still hold authority in this bloodline."

"Selene, you will grant them larger shares. Because I have declared it!"

Dahlia immediately began clapping her hands together.

"Thank you so much, Deirdra!"

A scattering of reluctant applause followed from the gathered wolves.

Most simply watched, ears pricked forward, waiting to see what would unfold.

I rose to my feet. Howl reached for my arm. I shook him off—hard enough that he stumbled.

"All you ever do is tell me to endure. Is that the only use you have?"

"You will not stand beside me? Fine. I will stand for myself."

His eyes pleaded with me, soft and desperate.

"Selene, please. Do not cause a scene..."

My bond-mother slammed her palm against the feast table, refusing to yield her ground.

"Howl! Show some backbone! This bloodline carries the name Frostclaw, not Wolfsbane!"

"She cannot even give us pups. The least she can do is work herself to the bone for the Frostclaw line."

"Selene—by next winter, you will surrender the Alpha position to one of our chosen wolves!"

"And you had better produce an heir. Healer's intervention, old remedies, I do not care how you manage it. But you will give me grandpups. Otherwise, you can gather your things and leave this territory!"

The hall went dead silent.

Every pair of eyes turned toward me.

I smiled.

Absolutely absurd.

I looked at her, my gaze cold as frozen iron.

"No need to wait until next winter. I am leaving right now."

"Steward!"

The feast steward, who had been hovering near the kitchen passage, stepped forward instantly.

"Pack up all the food. Every last dish."

He froze.