Serena's eyes opened to blur and warmth and the outline of a face she knew.
"Elara?"
"You're awake!" Elara launched off the chair and threw her arms around Serena.
Pain flared through Serena's ribs, but she did not make a sound. She wrapped one arm around Elara.
"I'm sorry I ran. I should have stayed. I should have—"
"No. You did exactly what I told you to do." Serena's voice cut through the spiral. "Please do not apologize. I am just relieved you made it."
Elara nodded, tears bright in her eyes.
A man crossed the room from the doorway. "Drink both of these. They'll help with your recovery."
He handed Serena a large jar filled with opaque white liquid and set another on the bedside table. Under normal circumstances, Serena would not have touched it. But her mouth felt like sand, and her throat burned with thirst.
She emptied the first and immediately reached for the second.
"I am Alaric Kestrel," the man said as he gently examined her wrists and neck. "Head Healer of Drakenfell."
Were they already in Drakenfell territory?
"You are Serena Silverveil. Restrained in silver for one year." His eyes tracked her pulse, her breathing, the faint marks left behind. "You should not be alive. Recovery will be slow for your wolf."
Serena frowned slightly. "My wolf?"
She had accepted long ago that whatever wolf she was born with had been burned out of her.
"When the wolf dies, the person dies with it. You are alive, which means so is your wolf."
His words stirred something fragile in Serena's chest. Hope.
Alaric tilted his head, studying her more closely. "You look as dangerous as a startled lamb. Why would someone chain you in silver?"
Serena did not usually share information so easily, but something in his expression told her he already knew the answer.
"I tried to escape. Twice."
Alaric's expression darkened. "Viremont?"
"Yes."
He didn't respond to that.
When he left, Elara helped Serena wash, careful around every injury.
"You look like hell." Elara grinned.
"Still better-looking than you," Serena shot back.
Elara snorted softly as she helped dry Serena's hair. "Bold words for someone who spent the last year as haunted decor."
Serena laughed. "You missed me."
"I missed arguing with you. The silence was unbearable."
She tossed Serena a black training suit, zippered up the back with the Drakenfell insignia at the shoulder. A matching, floor-length black cloak was folded beneath it. The suit was comfortable but slightly too loose.
"There. You look like yourself again. Less corpse. More menace."
Serena caught her wrist before she could step away. "Thank you. For staying."
Elara squeezed her hand once. "Always. You are stuck with me. I checked. There is no cure."
Alaric entered again, sighing. "If you are going to insist on standing, then you may as well see where you are." He was already turning toward the door.
Serena blinked at him in surprise and fell into step beside Elara as they followed him out into the corridor. "Aren't you busy?"
"Ordinarily, yes." Alaric continued walking and glanced at her, one brow lifting slightly. "However, Prince Dexmon personally retrieved you from the forest twice, and I have very clear instructions that you were not to be left unattended until you were properly oriented."
At the words Prince Dexmon, Serena's foot caught on the edge of a runner.
She pitched forward before she could stop herself.
✦✦✦
They moved through Drakenfell's inner halls, all well-lit and grand.
Eyes followed Serena unapologetically.
People froze mid-step. Conversations cut off halfway. A warrior dropped a piece of his armor.
She had always drawn stares, so this was nothing new.
Her white hair fell to her waist, catching gold in the torchlight. Green eyes. Light-olive skin. The kind of face people remembered.
She kept her gaze forward, pretending not to notice.
When a passing healer walked into a column, Alaric cleared his throat.
"For the record, he was staring because we hadn't expected you to be walking today."
Elara nodded. "Don't worry. She gets stares quite often. When she's not chained up that is."
Serena shot her a look.
"She is quiet," Alaric commented.
Elara snorted, "Yes, but don't let that fool you. She's sharper than a blade."
Serena huffed. "Gods, I am right here."
"You will make enemies quickly." Alaric glanced at Serena. His tone was matter-of-fact, his gaze assessing rather than admiring. "Both of you will. Whichever god thought to pair you as friends showed a remarkable lack of mercy."
Elara grinned. "What? You've never seen a redheaded vixen and a white-haired menace in the wild?"
Serena shook her head, rolling her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
Then a voice spoke from down the corridor, amused and unrestrained.
"The rumors said she was stunning. For once, the rumors were not exaggerating."
Serena turned to see a tall, muscular, and dangerously handsome man step into the hall. His eyes were openly assessing her from head to toe without shame or apology.
"Forgive the staring," he added casually. "It's just… hard not to when someone walks into a room like thunder wrapped in silk."
Alaric stopped walking.
"For the love of the moon goddess," he muttered.
The man grinned. "Gavriel Sterling, Gamma of Drakenfell."
His gaze returned to Serena, direct and unapologetic.
Serena blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the bluntness. Then instinct took over. She dipped her head and shoulders respectfully, and Elara mirrored the motion beside her without hesitation.
Gavriel laughed once, low and appreciative.
"Polite too," he said. "Men tend to forget themselves around that."
Serena met his gaze, unflinching. "Thank you, Gamma Sterling for the flattery."
Gavriel's grin widened. "I am not flattering you. I am interested."
Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am going to start sedating people."
Serena commented without missing a beat. "Please start with him."
Gavriel laughed. "Careful," he said. "Say things like that and I might decide I like you even more."
"Well," Dexmon said lightly, lips curving. "I leave you alone for five minutes and you start trying to recruit chaos in the hallway. Bold strategy, Gav."
Gavriel's grin widened immediately, wicked and unapologetic. "Dex. Buddy. Pal. In my defense, the chaos introduced herself. I was just being polite."
Dexmon hummed. "You have never been polite in your life."
"That hurts," Gavriel said, clutching his chest. "I'm a picture of decorum. Ask anyone who survived knowing me."
Dexmon's mouth twitched, then his gaze shifted.
When his eyes settled on Serena the humor sharpened into something more focused, more dangerous.
Recognition flickered in his gaze, immediate and unmistakable.
And with it, the sharp, unwelcome awareness that he had not been prepared to see her standing, composed, and untouched by his authority.
"Prince Dexmon Drakenfell," he recovered smoothly, as if he hadn't just been admiring her. "Though we have already met in the forest."
Serena's lips twitched at that and she dipped her head composed. Elara copied a heartbeat later, chin lowered, eyes sharp.
Noticing the blatant stares, Dexmon turned slightly, angling himself just enough to place Serena at his side without touching her. But the message was clear.
The corridor resumed its quiet movement, the stares suddenly far more cautious than curious.
"You'll have to excuse us," Dexmon said.
"Dexmon."
She knew that voice.
Agnes Viremont stood at the far end of the corridor. Dark hair. Sharp features. A gown worth more than most people earned in a lifetime.
Serena's blood went cold. Her heart thudded, body flooding with adrenaline. Elara gave her hand a brief squeeze. It's okay. We're alive.
Alaric shifted slightly, positioning himself between them and Agnes's line of sight.
Serena stopped breathing. Neither she nor Elara looked up.
For one terrible moment, she was back in chains. Back kneeling on stone floors while this woman walked past without a glance. This woman who viewed Serena like she was scum.
Agnes's gaze swept the corridor, passed over Serena, and settled on Dexmon.
No recognition.
"I was not expecting you until tonight," Dexmon said evenly.
"Clearly."
The single word carried enough ice to cool the corridor.
Agnes turned and walked away without waiting for a response. As if her dismissal was a punishment.
Dexmon turned to follow her, Gavriel behind him.
Serena exhaled slowly, carefully, forcing her hands to stay still at her sides.
Agnes hadn't recognized her.
Yet.
They were almost out of the corridor when Gavriel turned around and called back down the hall.
"I'll be back for you, Serena."