2. Chapter Two: Theo

Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born raises his chin, smiling. He can almost taste Commander Jennison's fear as the man observes the Ravage board, taking in the scattered pieces and Theo's strategy – flawless, as always.

"Are you sure?" Theo asks as the commander's fingers hover over one piece before darting to another. Jennison's eyes shoot to the board, his scowl darkening. The man tugs on his long gray beard before squaring broad shoulders, scarlet uniform crinkling. He moves the pieces without breaking eye contact.

Theo fights the urge to blink with surprise; so, there is some fight left in the old man.

At least this keeps things interesting.

"Are you?" Jennison replies. His gaze flickers over the fur robes fastened at Theo's collar, landing on Theo's second in command, Octavian Scholar. Theo doesn't need to follow the commander's eyes to know what he is looking at. Theo knows the deal he made and the life that is at stake should he lose.

Instead, he focuses on the cool air rushing through the tent, on the numbness in his fingers. The familiar scents of smoke and meat fill him as he inhales, grounding himself.

"Yes, let's make sure your plan has been well thought out, now," Octavian says, his slightly pinched voice the only sign of his discomfort.

"Have I ever made such a mistake?" Theo replies, moving his next piece while still looking at the commander.

Jennison's scowl returns as he stares down at the board again, tugging on his beard as if hoping it will whisper the answers to victory. "Only once, Wolf-Born," he replies. "Only once."

Even with the years that lay between him and that day, Theo is slapped by the memory. The way the smoke hung on the air, tangled on his tongue. The bodies he uncovered.

Theo grinds his teeth, fighting away the rise of bile in his throat. The memory of his mother and father's deaths shouldn't hurt him still, and he certainly isn't about to show that vulnerability to Commander Jennison.

Commander Jennison, who is appraising him unblinkingly.

Theo growls, "One mistake in a decade-long career against those demon princes of the South." His teeth lengthen to fangs, nails sharpening to claws. He showcases his wolf with pride. "I must say, that's better than all the other Captains and Sevells you're planning on sending into the field."

"Your track record is good beyond that, yes, though that one mistake, Wolf-Born, it will not be easily forgotten," Jennison says. He looks at Theo and immediately glances away upon seeing Theo's barely restrained snarl. "And you are but four and twenty – too young, too reckless." Jennison gazes at the board, licking his lips. "And unmated still."

"In other words: I am full of life, unlike those fossils you wish to use, I am bold, and I am not easy enough to control," Theo grinds out, voice barely human. He allows the beast to fill him with crystalline rage, refining his vision until the details of the Ravage board stand out in stark relief. Theo slams his piece down so hard, the kings shake. "Check."

"If you wish to phrase it that way, yes. The Elders need someone they can trust in the field, Wolf-Born." Jennison maneuvers a piece. A smirk upticks his thin lips. "Check."

Octavian hisses in dismay. Theo tosses his second a glare.

Octavian sits at the entrance of the commander's tent, pinched between two guards – both of whom have leveled their blades with the lieutenant's throat. A tendril of blood snakes down Octavian's exposed collarbone, soaking into the sapphire of his scholar's uniform.

The sight of his lover under such duress should fill Theo with rage – it's the very reason Jennison had wanted to use Octavian as collateral. But Theo's lip only curls with annoyance.

Under the weight of Theo's disapproval, Octavian's quivering ceases. The man straightens, knobby throat bobbing. His gray eyes remain wide with fear, but he has been reminded to sit with dignity. He represents Theo's division, after all, and Theo does not suffer cowards – even cowards he's fucking.

The next moves between Theo and Commander Jennison pass in silence. Finally, Jennison releases a breath from between clenched teeth.

"Do you even have a plan?" Jennison asks.

"Is that a joke?"

When Jennison merely raises a brow, Theo replies in an exasperated grumble, "It's simple: a siege might be the obvious answer against a walled city, but these Siacchians are smart – they'll expect that. No, we don't need to break the city. We just need to capture its heart."

"Speak plainly, boy. Metaphors are not strategy."

Theo bares his teeth and moves his next piece. Jennison pauses, blinking.

"My plan," Theo says, "is to capture the one person who is their future – the person who is the child of their prominent governmental figures – the one person who will provide the intellect to bring down their city from the inside… once I've broken them."

Jennison shakes his head. "How do you plan to obtain such knowledge?"

"I have my sources."

"You're too reckless, Wolf-Born," Jennison says. "Both in life – and in Ravage."

"Reckless – but victorious," Theo says. "Check."

"Ravage is not the same as the battlefield; in war, you cannot trust your allies to always follow your every whim and order. You cannot even always trust them to speak the truth."

"You know I am no longer so foolish." Theo leans toward his commander, eyes flashing from brown to amber. "Well?"

Jennison stares at the board for a long time, brow knotted. His gaze flickers to the guards at the head of the tent. He jerks his chin.

"Release him," Jennison orders.

Octavian's sigh of relief floats free as the guards remove their blades.

"You are dismissed," Jennison says. The guards clank as they exit.

Theo steeples his hands to hide his smile. Jennison is a good loser; he looks only a bit miffed as his gaze flickers to Octavian.

"You are no longer needed, Scholar. Scram."

Octavian shoots Theo a glare – Theo will never hear the end of this. "So happy to be of service," he grumbles, stumbling from the tent, hand pressed to the open wound on his neck.

"You really do care so little for him," Jennison observes after Octavian has gone.

Theo narrows his eyes. "I told you – I learned my lesson about letting such vulnerabilities weaken me from my loss ten years before."

Commander Jennison offers a weak smile before bowing his head. "You have played well, young Wolf-Born," he says. He tips his king. "Mate."

Ordinarily, Theo would claim his prize in the form of flesh – but he is not here for his immediate pleasure.

Before Theo can speak though, Jennison flies to his feet, ripping his blade from his belt. Despite the age wrinkling his limbs, he moves with deadly speed. His expression snaps from wary defeat to intense focus.

But Theo reacts even quicker. He ducks beneath the old Commander"s blow and leaps over the Ravage board, scattering pieces with his jump. He tackles Jennison, wrapping his arms around the man's wiry middle and forcing him down with a trip.

As Jennison falls, Theo seizes his sword arm and twists until Jennison cries out – but the old man does not release his blade.

"Brat!" Jennison hisses, though his lips quirk with amusement despite the word.

The two hit the ground with twin grunts. Theo moves to straddle the commander's chest, his hand flying to the knife that always hangs from his belt –

But the blade is gone.

It is only his beast that saves him.

Jennison wields his own blade and Theo's stolen knife in each hand to stab at Theo's thighs. Theo leaps to his feet in a swift movement, slamming his booted feet onto the old man's biceps as he does so.

This time when Jennison cries out, he cannot help but to release Theo's blade.

Quicker than light on water, Theo snatches up his knife. Jennison huffs in alarm as Theo presses the blade against his throat.

"As I suspected," Jennison pants. Theo meets the commander's gaze, breaths even. He is glad the commander cannot see the sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. "Your instincts are exceptional. As expected for a Wolf-Born."

"The Mother raised me well."

"I have no doubt." Jennison looks down at the blade still flush to his neck. "You were beast-raised. If only you were of a notable family…." He shakes his head, and Theo grits his teeth. Jennison says, "Now – release me."

"I have defeated you twice, Commander. This means you will owe me two-fold," Theo warns before doing as ordered.

Commander Jennison's fingers rise to his neck, brushing away the blood. "If only you were mated," he muses. "You could be their first choice."

Theo's nostrils flare. He would never mate; he did not believe in such things, and even if he did, he would never give the Elders access to such weakness. "What time is my meeting with the Elders?"

"We will go to them now." Commander Jennison creaks to his feet, groaning as his knees pop. His gaze is gentle and sympathetic despite his loss. "They won't let you do this, Wolf-Born. You must know that."

"The other captains and Sevells are all incompetent fools. If the Elders wish to take the capital, they're going to need someone who can think outside the box."

"Take a mate," Jennison presses. "You already have Octavian. Let your wolf bond with him and leave him in Akull. Give the Elders something to… to control –"

Theo scoffs. "You must think me and him fools."

"Power comes at a price, Hunter. How do you think I climbed the ranks despite being beastless?"

Theo's scowls. "I will not pick a mate merely to appease the Elders – there is no one here who interests me, and I will not force the bond." He wrinkles his nose. "They all smell of flesh and blood, nothing more. Nothing of importance or worth bonding to."

Jennison snorts, shaking his head. "A traditionalist? You really think you can find a fated mate out there? The one your beast calls for?" His grin grows when he sees a sour look darken Theo's face. "The mate bond works perfectly fine even with those you find useful – bearable, you realize? I was able to climb the human ranks of our army twice as fast when I was bound to Himara."

"Yes," Theo says, "you rose twice as fast when the Elders had someone to keep you in line with. I would never leave someone I care about here, in their hands, while in the field so they could puppet me with threats to my lover's life."

Jennison laughs. "Ah, I would have never guessed there was such romanticism buried beneath that dark scowl of yours!"

Theo towers over the commander. His blond locks nearly graze the tent poles. "I've won, Commander Jennison. Quit stalling. Take me before them. You'll need to convince them before the horses leave at nightfall – I'll need to prepare Geriin for riding, after all."

Jennison sighs. "You can't blame a man for trying."

Theo makes for the exit of the tent. "If I miss the ride out to the Western campaign? I most certainly can."

Akull, the mobile capital of Kitera, sparkles with frost. Afternoon daylight filters through the fronds of swaying pines, long, finger-like shadows stroking the tent-covered hillside. Campfires flicker, filling the afternoon with smoke, hissing globs of fat dripping from the rabbits and deer hung to roast over the flames. The cold has yet to force their people to move to the winter palace – the structures are likely yet to completely freeze – but soon they will gather their reindeer, sheep, and cattle, saddle their steeds and move to the northernmost reaches of Kitera.

A handful of eyes dart to Theo as he leaves Jennison's tent – eavesdroppers who were hoping to learn the outcome of the match. Judging by the blue of their tunics, they are likely Octavian's friends, scholars and advisers to the military leaders. A few heave sighs of relief when Theo emerges clearly unscathed. Theo glares at them to make it clear he doesn't appreciate their lack of confidence.

Theo's boots crunch across frozen grass as he weaves through tents and people alike, making his way toward the center of the war camp. Large enough to comfortably hold fifty, the Elder's Compound stands head and shoulders above its peers, smooth canvas dyed a bloody scarlet.

Commander Jennison hurries along behind Theo, half a step behind when they both depart his tent, and is forced to jog to keep up. The man's expression darkens the closer they get. Theo can just make out the commander's mumbling – something about how this is a bad idea.

But Theo has fought his way through life powered on bad ideas and fortitude. He will head this battle. It's his best chance to prove himself – to finally whet his teeth as the sole Sevell in the field.

It'll finally be a chance to prove to himself that he's stronger than he was then – that perhaps, maybe someday, he could be strong enough to care again.

Theo enters the Elder's Compound without prelude. The warmth of the tent curls around him, brushing away the fall frost. Theo pauses at the raised entryway, knocking snow from his boots and removing his cloak. Commander Jennison enters seconds later, out of breath, and does the same.

The Elder's Compound arches above them like the ribcage of a great beast. At its head, the seven elders sit, cushions arranged in an arrowhead shape on the hard packed floor. Their hunched discussion lulls as they see Theo and Jennison, disapproval creasing already wrinkled faces.

"What is it, Commander?" the woman on the far right, Gilianna Scholar, asks. She draws her blade onto her lap like one would a pet, gently stroking along its leather sheath.

Jennison's eyes flicker to Theo and then away. He curls his shoulders as he kneels on the tent"s floor. "Vell Scholar, pardon our interruptions," he simpers. "I come with a… request."

"Request?" Gilianna repeats. She glances at her fellow Elders, all exchanging matching scowls.

"Sevell Hunter has recently proved to me his prowess for battle and intellect. I know you are currently debating the strongest to send to the West to continue the war on Siacchi. I believe Sevell Hunter would be the best to aid the campaign."

The Elders shift, muttering.

"Commander Jennison," begins Hessifer Soldier. His accent is thick from the time he spent on the borders between Kitera and their long-time enemy of the south, Balivartia. He is a small man with a tuft of white hair and a wisp of a mustache that looks like a streak of snow he forgot to wipe away. His eyes flash ice blue as he speaks. "We appreciate your opinion, but unfortunately we cannot send someone as… young as Sevell Hunter. He is entirely too… inexperienced."

A snarl builds in the back of Theo's throat that he only barely manages to stifle. Commander Jennison shoots him a look before continuing. "Yes, of course," he says. "I've taken that much into consideration. But Sevell Hunter is extraordinary. Not only does he excel in Ravage and military strategy, but he also captures the hearts of the people he leads into war."

"I agree with Vell Soldier," Gilianna says, shaking her head. "Sevell Hunter is far too young and unpredictable."

"He has brought many victories home since he assumed the position at fourteen – being the youngest to do so, I might add."

"I understand your logic, Commander," Hessifer replies. "But we have already selected the one we would send. Sevell Jordiar Fletcher is mated and carries far more experience, making her the optimal choice." His brows draw together. "You are keeping us from meeting her as we speak."

"That's –" Theo begins, but Commander Jennison's warning look quiets his protests. Commander Jennison parts his lips, but before he can speak, someone rushes into the tent.

A small woman with dark hair enters – stinking of blood. She stumbles onto the raised floor, trailing red footprints. She is soaked to the bone – blood drips from her hair and face, darkening the hard packed dirt. Her wide eyes rove over the Elders, her lips shaking. "Please – I can't calm her down," she whispers, voice hoarse.

"Elliah?" Gillianna gasps. "What –"

"They didn't mean to knock me down – but Jordiar took it as a challenge. I tried to explain – but she's just – she's not listening to me –" Tears roll down Elliah's face, cutting clean tracks through the gore. "She's going to kill them!"

Theo's eyes widen and he inhales deeply – the blood does not belong to the woman.

The Elders rise to their feet as Theo rushes from the tent, the canvas flaps slapping his back as he exits.

The light of the afternoon has turned from tranquil to chaos. Theo stumbles as a wave of salt and copper hits his nose; two men lie crumpled on the ground, hands pressed to weeping wounds. A young boy tends to them. He jumps as Theo exits the Elder's tent, nearly fleeing. Another woman stands near the boy, holding a long staff, her braced chest facing away from Theo. She doesn't look back as Theo exits the tent, only sinking deeper into her stance.

Beyond her, a horse-sized wolf bristles, dark eyes filled with mindless rage, muzzle wet with blood. At the sight of Theo, her massive head swings in his direction, lips curling back to reveal teeth the length of his fingers. Her dark fur bristles, and she takes a half step toward him. A growl shreds her teeth, deep and deadly.

"Jordiar!" a voice cries from behind Theo – Elliah. "Please – stop!"

"It's pointless, child," Commander Jennison chides as the two rush from the tent. "She is lost to the connubial rage."

"But –"

"We need to subdue her." The old man's gaze shifts to Theo.

Say no more.

The wolf is always there for Theo, waiting just beneath his skin. He needs to only pull away his loose robes and reach for it, to skim the surface of his anger, his fear, his sadness – and then his bones crack and his skin splits and the beast bursts free.

Jordiar roars at the sight, charging through the woman holding the staff to reach Theo. But she is too slow.

Things move differently when Theo and the wolf are finally one – when he sees things through human eyes, he always feels too slow, too weak. But finally clothed in his fur and teeth, he knows he can do anything. Defeat anyone.

With a snarl, Theo bowls into Jordiar. In wolf form, she is two times his human size – but changed now, Theo easily overtakes her.

Jordiar yelps as Theo pins her, his jaws falling open. His teeth sink into Jordiar's thick throat, digging past the robes bunched there, just deep enough he can taste her flesh. Theo growls deeply, the sound reverberating through his chest.

The blind rage snaps from Jordiar's eyes as she remembers that she is not the only hopiar – the only descendant from the Great Mother – as she is forced from predator to prey.

Dimly, Theo realizes the vibration on his tongue is Jordiar's quiet, puppy-like whines.

"Release her, Wolf-Born."

Theo is unable to resist a snarl at the command. He snaps in the direction of the order, and a human hand lands on his muzzle.

Commander Jennison stares up at him, body pathetically small in the eyes of Theo's wolf form. For half a thundering heartbeat, Theo allows the beast to run wild through his thoughts as he considers – I could kill him in a single bite. Jordiar is already beaten – then I cut through the Elders, and I will finally prove myself to all of them –

"Wolf-Born," Commander Jennison says, growl sinking into his voice. He is a simple human, so his eyes do not flicker as a hopiar's would, but he manages to sound beastly all the same.

Jordiar whines again, high pitched and pathetic.

Theo reaches for the anger and tugs it away. The wolf roars disapproval, but he's well-practiced with this. He exhales long and hard, and the fur creeps away, revealing his pale human flesh.

Seconds later, he stands above Jordiar. His furs, bunched around his neck during the change, fall over his chest, leaving his bottom half exposed. Cold slaps him, but Theo refuses to react.

"Well done," Commander Jennison murmurs in a voice too low for human ears to hear.

Theo glances at him – and then back to the Elder's Compound.

Gilianna, Hessifer, and the other five members of the council curve around a wide-eyed Elliah. Elliah presses her hands to her face, cheeks wet with tears. The Elders have drawn their furs tight against the afternoon wind, faces pinched with the cold. Their gazes flicker back and forth between Jordiar and Theo.

They are not their only audience. Other Kiterans have emerged from their tents to gape. No – not gape.

To stare in disapproval.

The connubial rage is not unheard of, but it is uncommon. Rarely, soon after mating, the wolf becomes sensitive to any perceived threats to its mate. Punishment for those who lose control always varies, but, judging by the hard looks cast toward Jordiar, she will not be let off lightly.

"Change back," Theo orders Jordiar, stepping away from her.

Jordiar does not hesitate. With a crunch of bones and a snap of flesh, she curls on the leaves and frozen grass, covered in goosebumps. Her long brown hair falls to her waist, tangled with debris, and her cheeks are rosy with blood.

"Rise. Face the Elders," Theo orders.

Jordiar clammers to her feet, head lowered. Her eyes flicker to Elliah, and a relieved grin cuts through the fear on her face.

Theo resists the urge to shift uncomfortably at the sight; there's nothing that disturbs him more than the presence of a mated pair. Doesn't she realize the weakness she has just exposed not only to Theo – but all these people she hurt here? All Theo must do to cut through her now is get to Elliah first.

This is why I will never mate anyone.

"My sincerest apologies," Jordiar says to the Elders, head still bowed.

"Mistakes were made today," Theo says when Jordiar falls awkwardly silent. "But no lives were lost. Jordiar Fletcher will seek forgiveness in any way those injured deem fit. That seems a worthy enough reprimand, no?"

The crowd murmurs, but heads dip in agreement. Jordiar first tenses at his words – they are the same rank, but he speaks of her as if she is his subordinate – but when she sees the crowd's opinion change, she relaxes.

"Yes, they will live," Gilianna says, gaze skimming the injured. "That's right… your mating bond is still new, isn't it, Sevell Jordiar Fletcher?"

"That's correct, Vell Scholar."

Gilianna offers a smile that looks at odds with the tension in her neck. "How lovely to see the pair of you. I look forward to Elliah remaining in the capital."

The muscles in Jordiar's jaws flex. "As do I."

"Delightful." Gilianna's gaze flickers to Commander Jennison and Theo. She purses her lips. "However – we cannot send such a newly bonded pair into the front. Your wolf will not handle the separation well, and I would hate to put either of you through unnecessary suffering – especially with you being so sensitive to the connubial rage." Gilianna curls her fingers in the tiniest of waves. "Wolf-Born. Approach."

Theo does as ordered, standing before the Elders, willing the goosebumps from his flesh. A cruel breeze brushes a strand of blond hair over his shoulder. He towers over them, so it makes sense when they gesture for him to kneel.

"Sevell Wolf-Born, Kitera calls for you," Gilianna begins, and Theo is grateful that his head is bowed so the Elders cannot see the victorious smile blade-like on his face. How nice of this crowd to watch, to bear witness to his victory. "Will you answer the cry of war? Will you lead our troops into victory? Will you expand our empire for the good of our people?"

Theo raises his head, teeth bared – triumphant. "I promise – I will do all that and more, Vell Elders. I will destroy them all. I will go to Cesscounthe and return only when their rulers are in pieces."