Darian
Night in Varkholme was never silent.
The wind moved through the mountain passes like something alive. Torches hissed along the fortress walls. Wolves patrolled the outer cliffs in disciplined rotations.
Everything as it should be.
Everything controlled.
Darian stood alone in his war chamber, staring at the map carved into the stone table before him.
Valewyn's borders etched in sharp lines.
Two years.
He had calculated everything down to the day the Blood Moon would rise.
Aldric thought this marriage stalled war.
It did not.
It delayed execution.
His jaw tightened.
He had not given up heirs and legacy for sentiment. He had not sacrificed bloodline for softness.
He had done it for strength.
Absolute.
Undeniable.
Unchallengeable.
His wolf stirred.
Not with aggression.
With awareness.
Annoyance flashed through him.
"She is Aldric's daughter," he muttered.
The wolf did not retreat.
Instead—
It replayed the image.
Snow in her dark hair.
Storm-gray eyes holding his gaze without fear.
The subtle grace in her movements.
The faint scent beneath whatever she was masking.
Masking.
That bothered him.
She felt restrained.
Muted.
Not weak.
Muted.
His instincts rarely misjudged power.
He had met Alphas who puffed themselves larger than they were. Met warriors who hid fear behind noise.
She was neither.
She had stood in his courtyard like she belonged there.
That was not prey behavior.
His wolf shifted restlessly beneath his skin.
Interested.
No.
He paced once across the chamber.
"You will not react," he said lowly.
The wolf did not obey.
Because it had noticed something he had not expected.
When she had lowered her gaze—
It had not felt like submission.
It had felt like calculation.
A slow breath left his lungs.
If she was playing weak…
He would find out.
His gaze drifted toward the stone wall separating his chamber from hers.
He could feel her faintly.
Not power.
Presence.
It irritated him how aware he was of it.
This was a contract.
A political structure.
Nothing more.
He would not be destabilized by a woman who looked like light in a world built of stone.
And yet—
His wolf settled closest to that wall.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
He hated it.
⸻
Seraphina
My chambers were enormous.
Obnoxiously so.
High ceilings carved with wolves in battle. Dark velvet draped across arched windows. A hearth large enough to roast a small army.
Subtle, Varkholme.
Lyra and Maelin moved efficiently as they unpacked my things.
They weren't just attendants.
Their posture was too disciplined.
Their hands too steady.
"You're both trained," I said casually, watching Lyra fold a gown with precise movements.
Lyra didn't look up. "All women in Varkholme are."
Maelin gave a faint smile. "It is unwise to depend on men for survival."
I liked her immediately.
"Good," I said. "I prefer competent company."
Lyra's mouth twitched faintly again.
Progress.
I moved toward the window overlooking the inner courtyard.
Torches burned in calculated intervals. Guards rotated in perfect timing.
Efficient.
But something felt—
Off.
The dampening potion still dulled my power, but it didn't silence my instincts.
The air here carried tension beneath discipline.
Not fear.
Secrecy.
"Has there been unrest?" I asked lightly.
Lyra paused almost imperceptibly.
"No."
Too quick.
Maelin glanced at her.
There it is.
I leaned casually against the window frame.
"Relax," I said. "I'm not here to report to anyone."
Lyra finally looked at me fully.
"You don't seem surprised by any of this."
"I've been trained for worse," I replied.
That part wasn't a lie.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Then Maelin spoke quietly.
"There have been… disappearances."
Ah.
Now we're talking.
"Of?"
"Lower council members. A few warriors."
Lyra's jaw tightened.
"No bodies," she added. "No signs of struggle."
Interesting.
"Does the king know?" I asked.
Lyra hesitated.
"Yes."
But something in her tone suggested—
Not everything.
I let my senses stretch slightly.
Just a little.
The fortress hummed with old stone memory.
Battles fought in its halls.
Blood spilled in its foundations.
And beneath that—
A faint thread.
Thin.
Familiar.
Wrong.
My wrist seal burned faintly through the dampening potion.
That shouldn't happen.
I masked the reaction quickly.
"Show me the adjoining door," I said casually.
Lyra stiffened slightly but obeyed.
The door connecting my chamber to Darian's was thick oak reinforced with iron bands.
Locked.
Of course.
I stepped closer.
And there it was.
That same thread.
Faint.
Lingering near the stone walls between our rooms.
Not his power.
Not mine.
Older.
I touched the wall lightly.
For half a second—
A flicker.
A flash of silver runes carved deep within the stone.
Then it vanished.
I stepped back slowly.
"What did you see?" Maelin asked quietly.
So she had noticed my shift.
Sharp girl.
"Nothing," I said smoothly.
Lie.
Something had been embedded in this fortress long before I arrived.
Something connected to the Blood Moon.
And if it was woven into these walls—
Then the murders back home weren't isolated.
They were echoes.
The dampening potion flickered slightly in my veins.
The thread pulsed again.
Closer.
Hungrier.
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn't just a political marriage.
This was a structure built over something buried.
And buried things always clawed back up.
Lyra approached carefully.
"You are not what we expected," she said.
"Disappointed?" I asked dryly.
"No," she replied. "Relieved."
I studied her.
Trust would take time.
But this?
This was a beginning.
"Good," I said. "Because if something is wrong in this fortress, I'm not waiting two years to find it."
Maelin's eyes widened slightly.
"You would investigate your own husband's kingdom?"
I smirked faintly.
"I don't investigate kingdoms," I said. "I investigate lies."
A knock echoed faintly in the distant hall.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
Darian.
He passed by my chamber door without stopping.
But for a brief second—
The thread in the stone pulsed harder.
As if reacting to him.
Or to me.
Or to both of us in proximity.
My pulse slowed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Two powerful bloodlines.
One fortress.
Something ancient woven between the walls.
And a king whose wolf was likely pacing just as restlessly as mine.
I turned back to Lyra and Maelin.
"Lock the outer doors," I said calmly.
Lyra nodded.
Maelin hesitated.
"You sense it too," she whispered.
"Yes."
I looked once more at the connecting door.
At the wall.
At the faint hum beneath stone.
"This fortress is holding something," I murmured.
"And I don't think it's just secrets."