Aria's POV
The morning air was crisp and sharp, biting at my cheeks as Ivan and I circled the training grounds for the first time. My legs burned, my lungs ached, but I kept going.
Ivan ran beside me, effortless, his long strides eating up the distance without strain. He hadn't said much since we started—just a quiet, steady rhythm of "Keep your shoulders loose" and "Breathe through your nose, not your mouth." His presence was calm. Nothing like the storm that followed Raine everywhere.
We finished the lap and slowed to a walk. My chest heaved; sweat trickling down my back. Ivan handed me a waterskin without a word. I took it gratefully, gulping down the cool water.
"You did good," he said, watching me with those warm brown eyes. "Most new trainees would've stopped after the first lap."
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I didn't have a choice. I can't afford to be weak anymore."
Ivan tilted his head, studying me. "You're not weak. You're just… untapped."
I looked away, toward the distant pines. "That's a nice way of saying I can't even shift."
He chuckled softly. "It's a nice way of saying you've got a lot more inside you than you realize. You just haven't found the key yet."
I didn't answer. I wasn't sure I believed him.
We walked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the crunch of our boots on the grass and the faint morning birdsong. Then Ivan spoke again, quieter this time.
"You're thinking about something. I can see it."
I hesitated. I hadn't planned on talking about it—not with him, or with anyone—but the words slipped out anyway.
"I was rejected," I said. "By my fated mate. In front of the whole pack. He said I was weak. Worthless. Then he sent me here like I was nothing more than a bargaining chip."
Ivan stopped walking. I stopped too, staring at the ground.
He didn't speak right away. When he did, his voice was gentle but firm.
"That's not on you, Aria. That's on him. A man who rejects his mate in front of everyone doesn't deserve the title of Alpha, let alone a woman like you."
I swallowed hard. "He didn't even flinch. He just… looked relieved, whereas the pain tore through me like a knife."
Ivan's jaw tightened, but his eyes stayed soft. "Pain like that forges strength, even if it feels like it's breaking you. That's why you're still here. You're still fighting. It's more than most would do."
I finally looked up at him. He was watching me with something like quiet respect.
"And you're not broken," he added, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Just untapped."
I let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. "You really like that word, don't you?"
"It's true," he said, and then—lightly, almost playfully—he winked. "Besides, I've got a good eye for potential."
Heat crept up my neck unexpectedly. I ducked my head, pretending to study the grass.
Ivan laughed softly, the sound warm and easy. "Come on. One more lap. Then we'll call it for today."
We started running again, slower this time, side by side. My legs were tired, but my chest felt lighter somehow.
Halfway around the clearing, something shifted inside me.
It was small—barely noticeable—but it was there.
Lira.
A faint, trembling stir, like a sleeping animal lifting its head for the first time in years. Not strong. Not awake. Just… present.
I faltered for half a step.
Ivan noticed immediately. "What is it?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. "Nothing. I just… felt something."
He grinned, wide and bright. "That's the wolf. She's listening."
We finished the lap in silence. When we finally stopped, Ivan clapped me on the shoulder—friendly, encouraging.
"You did good today, Aria. Really good."
I managed a small smile. "Thanks. For… everything."
He winked again, this time slower, teasing. "Don't thank me yet. We've only just started."
I watched him walk away, his easy stride carrying him toward the manor. My heart was still pounding—not just from the run.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel quite so alone, and I was thankful for that.
I stood there in the clearing, catching my breath. The sun hand climbed higher now, warming the grass beneath my boots, and for a moment I just let myself breathe. The faint stir of Lira still lingered in my chest—like a distant echo. It wasn't much but it was enough. For now, it was enough.
A soft footfall behind me pulled me back to the present.
I turned to see Cara approaching. She carried a small woven basket in one hand.
"Lady Aria," she said, stopping a respectful distance away. "Are you ready for your duties?"
I wiped the last of the sweat from my brow and nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."
Cara gave a small, approving nod. "Good. Follow me."
She turned and led the way back to the main house, through a side gate I hadn't noticed before. We walked in silence for a few minutes, the path winding past the kitchens and into a quieter courtyard where the scent of fresh bread and herbs hung in the air.
We stopped at a low stone building tucked against the manor wall. Inside, long wooden tables were already set with baskets of bread, wheels of cheese, jars of honey, and bundles of dried fruit. A handful of older pack members—elders, I realized—sat on benches, waiting patiently.
Cara set the basket she'd been carrying on the table. "Today you'll help distribute the midday rations to the elders. They prefer to eat together here. It's a small thing, but it matters to them."
I stepped forward, suddenly self-conscious. "What do I do?"
"Ask them what they'd like," Cara said simply. "Hand them their portions. Listen if they want to talk. That's all."
I nodded and began. The first elder was a wiry woman with silver hair and sharp green eyes. She smiled when I approached.
"You're the new Luna," she said, voice raspy but kind.
"Yes," I answered softly. "My name is Aria."
"Elara," she replied. "I remember when the last Luna used to come here. She had a gentle touch, just like yours."
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. "Thank you."
I handed her a loaf of bread and a small jar of honey. She took them with a nod of thanks, then patted my hand. "You'll do fine, child. The pack needs someone like you, ready to serve so kindly."
I swallowed, touched by the quiet words. One by one, I moved down the table—offering food, listening to stories of old hunts, of winters survived, of children grown and gone. They spoke to me like I belonged. Like I was theirs.
By the time the last elder had taken their portion, my hands were sticky with honey and my heart felt fuller than it had in months.
I turned to Cara, who had been watching from the doorway.
"Thank you," I said. "For bringing me here."
She inclined her head. "You did well. They'll remember it."
As we stepped back into the courtyard, I caught a glimpse of movement high above—on the balcony that overlooked the grounds.
Raine.
He stood at the railing, arms crossed, silver eyes fixed on the courtyard below. For a moment our gazes met. His expression was unreadable, as always.
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing back into the shadows of the manor without a word, without a nod, without even acknowledging that I had been serving his pack.
He'd seen me—and he'd chosen to pretend I wasn't even there.