Chapter 8: Morning whispers
Nyrielle felt it the moment she stirred—an energy beneath the walls, quiet but pulsing, as though the long-silent stones had begun to whisper again. The bed was warm, the sheets freshly turned, and sunlight spilled gently across the dark oak floorboards. She hadn't slept deeply, but she had slept—and that was more than she could say for the days before.
Renna was already moving about the room, bustling softly as she laid out a pale lavender gown on the dressing screen and stirred the steaming tub at the corner hearth. The scent of lavender and crushed cedar filled the room.
Nyrielle blinked at her. "You're up early."
"I never slept," Renna replied with a smile. "The house has a heartbeat again. It's been… twitchy."
Nyrielle swung her legs over the bed, wrapping the robe tighter around her. "You say that like it's alive."
Renna paused, then gave a small, knowing nod. "All the noise. Wolves everywhere. Howls echoing at dawn. I'd forgotten what it was like. The sounds of home."
The tub hissed as she poured more hot water from the kettle. "Come, milady. Your mother will be here soon, and something tells me she won't approve of you looking like you wrestled the wind."
Nyrielle groaned but stood. "Maybe I did."
Renna only laughed and helped her undress. As she stepped into the warm bath, the castle outside murmured with distant footsteps—servants, perhaps, or something older. A door slammed two floors down. The wolves were still arriving.
Some had come last night, she'd been told—pack members from the lowlands, scouts from the coast. Not all had shifted back into human form. In the courtyard, she'd seen three of them still in their pelts, eyes golden and wary, watching the windows like guards. Not for her protection—but for what she represented.
Not a daughter.
Not even a bride.
Just a transaction wrapped in silk.
"Are they all here for the wedding?" Nyrielle asked.
Renna nodded. "They're arriving in droves. Some already forming their hunting circles. I saw two packs posturing near the outer walls. All that dominance—they'll need to let it out before the ceremony or someone will lose a limb."
Nyrielle sank lower in the bath. "Wonderful. A bloodbath before my nuptials."
Renna reached for the lavender soap. "You'll be too busy learning how to sit straight and smile pretty."
Nyrielle looked at her. "Do you think he'll actually go through with it? Kael?"
A flicker passed over Renna's face—uncertainty, perhaps, or pity. But she recovered fast. "Doesn't matter. You will."
She rinsed her hair in silence, letting the weight of it pull her down. She didn't ask anything more.
Nyrielle sat on the edge of the bed, arms loose at her sides, as Renna combed her damp hair. Her humming was soft and out of tune, but oddly comforting.
She paused, and her hands hesitated in Nyrielle's hair. "I— I mean... I didn't mean—" she faltered, realizing too late the shadow she'd cast.
Nyrielle gave her a small smile in the mirror, her voice quiet but steady. "It's fine, Renna. I know what you meant."
Renna's brows pinched, the guilt flashing in her eyes. "Still… I shouldn't have said it. You're as much a wolf as any of us, even if—"
Nyrielle cut in gently, "Even if my skin doesn't know it. It's all right. You don't have to dance around it." She tried for levity, a crooked little smirk finding its way to her lips. "Besides, someone has to be the disappointing daughter."
Renna let out a short breath—half laugh, half sigh—and reached for the pale blue corset gown on the dressing rack. "You are the least disappointing person I know. Miserable maybe, but not disappointing."
Nyrielle snorted. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
"I'm full of charm," Renna said proudly as she helped guide Nyrielle into the gown. Her tone shifted a little too eagerly as she added, "And have you seen the new arrivals? That one from the Eastern Border Pack? The one with the scar over his mouth?"
Nyrielle gave her a dry look. "I didn't realize we were preparing for a mating chase."
Renna grinned, lacing up the bodice with deft fingers. "We're not. But I am appreciating the view while I can. Some of these wolves won't stay long. You should've seen the way two of them shifted and took off across the courtyard last night. Like they couldn't wait to run wild again."
There was a beat of silence. Renna immediately regretted her words—again. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"
Nyrielle raised a hand. "Renna, really. It's fine." But her voice was softer now. A little farther away. "You don't have to walk on eggshells. I want you to be excited."
Renna nodded, guilt still clinging stubbornly to her features. She adjusted Nyrielle's sleeves, smoothing the fabric like it could fix the awkwardness between them.
"Well," Renna said, brightening, "at least your mother won't kill you if you trip during a curtsy. She's the one who taught the entire northern court how to pour tea without looking murderous."
Nyrielle arched a brow. "That's meant to be comforting?"
"She's scary because she's good at everything. You'll be fine. And if she does get scary, think about that Eastern wolf without his shirt on."
Nyrielle let out a genuine laugh, the sound startled from her chest. "Gods, Renna. You're impossible."
Renna gave a small bow. "And proud of it."
A soft knock came at the door. A young servant peeked in, eyes wide and nervous.
"The Queen Consort awaits her daughter in the study."
Nyrielle nodded once. "I'll be down shortly."
The servant bowed and vanished like a startled mouse.
Renna stepped back and looked her over. "You look… regal."
"I feel like I'm being dressed for slaughter."
Renna smirked. "Same difference ."
Nyrielle smiled faintly and touched her shoulder. "Thanks, Ren."
"Good luck," Renna said, lowering her voice like it was a prayer. "And don't let her make you cry. Not until after lunch, at least."
Nyrielle drew a breath, steadying herself as she turned toward the door.