My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 385

Fenris

I crested the last rise, the wind slapping my face. Stonewake spread below me — a dozen or so separate longhouses strung out on the cliffside above a narrow channel, smoke rising from turf roofs.

The single wall that wrapped Ironmaw in an impenetrable fortress was missing. This was a collection of houses. I would have to kill my father all over again if he ever saw it.

The dogs knew we were coming before the people did. I heard their barks rising on the wind, and then the sounds of people started — a child calling a question, a woman's sharp tone, footsteps running on stone. Heads turned, faces raised, arms straightened to point.

It was the wrong time of day for a guard change, so no one expected this visit. I knew the weight of it: I was Alpha of Ironmaw, and I did not often do visitations to other territories.

We rode down into the valley, the sound of hooves on stone drawing attention. The dogs continued to bark as our column approached. People stopped what they were doing to watch. It was a rare enough sight that it drew the whole place's attention.

"Looks friendly enough," Jace said beside me. "What are we hoping for from this one?"

I shrugged, my eye still on the settlement. "Whatever Halvard's willing to give." I was no longer certain he would give anything at all. He was a friend of my father's, which meant he had seen me as a child, and he knew who my brother was.

Fact that he'd invited me to Stonewake at all told me he was willing to be polite, at least. What he was willing to do beyond that was unknown.

We passed a group of warriors sparring on a field and they stopped to stare. Two were bleeding freely, but they didn't seem to notice. They looked at my face, my scars, the heavy pelts I wore, and they saw what they expected: the Butcher of the North. A little too much respect crept into their faces, and I looked away.

"Where's the Alpha?" Jace muttered. "Shouldn't they have come out to greet us by now?"

I grunted. The houses grew closer and we slowed, turning onto a wider path that would lead us to the center of the settlement. Now we passed groups of men and women and children, and all of them watched us with that same wary stillness. I kept my head high, my posture open and confident.

Halvard was already waiting at the far end of the yard by the time we rode in, flanked by a handful of his own men and dressed like a man who'd fought the mountain wind for years.

He had my father's face, the same sharp angles and heavy brows, but I would not have called it earned. It was just worn down.

We rode up. He stepped forward, and I slid from my horse, bracing a hand on the saddle as my feet hit the stone. He raised a calloused arm, and I took his forearm in mine. A squeeze of pressure, a beat of eye contact.

"Halvard."

"Volkov."

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