Lincoln's teacup shattered on the floor. "What did you say?"
His voice was ice, and the healer cowered, barely whispering, "I'm not certain, but Yvette's condition-"
"Get out!"
The healer scrambled away. I lay there, pale and still, my hands-once so steady with a blade-limp on the quilt. The fake-death pill was working.
Lincoln ripped back the bed's curtain, his eyes locking on my face. "Quentin swore a blood oath not to take your life," he said, voice like a blade. "If he broke it, I'll make him beg for death. So what's this, Yvette? Some act with the healer to play at dying?"
I closed my eyes, silent.
My silence only fueled his anger. He thought I was faking. "Guards!" he barked. "Toss out her medicine. If she wants to play dead, let her rot."
The slam of the door echoed in the quiet room. I lay still, the whip wounds on my back burning like fire. Pain was an old friend by now, just like Lincoln's betrayals.
Night fell, and the agony in my wounds grew sharper. I bit the blanket, sweat soaking through my clothes. I thought back to my first mission, when I'd come back wounded, and Lincoln stayed by my bed for three days, changing my bandages himself. The tenderness in his eyes had fooled me into thinking it was love.
By dawn, the pain dulled just enough to let me breathe. I'd barely closed my eyes when the steward pounded on my door.
"Yvette, Beta Lincoln orders you to the main hall. You're to escort him to the temple for a vow."
Every movement was torture, like needles stabbing my bones. I bandaged my wounds roughly, slipped into a plain dress, and shuffled to the hall.
There, Lincoln stood, tying a cloak around Julia's shoulders, his touch gentle. She wore a pink dress, radiant and untouched, a stark contrast to my scarred, battered self.
"You're here," Lincoln said without looking at me. "Guard Julia today. If anything happens to her, it's your head."
I nodded, eyes down.
We left the estate. Lincoln helped Julia into the carriage while I mounted a horse, trailing behind. The wheels clattered on the cobblestones. Halfway there, rain poured down, soaking me through. My wounds reopened, blood mixing with rainwater, dripping down the horse's flank.
"Lincoln," Julia said, peeking out the carriage window, a smug glint in her eyes. "Yvette's all banged up. Maybe let her ride inside? Or at least give her an umbrella?"
Lincoln didn't even glance my way. "She's just a shadow guard. Doesn't matter."
Julia's lips curved up. I gripped the reins tighter. Just a shadow guard. A blade he could toss aside. Maybe even my death wouldn't faze him.
The temple sat halfway up a mountain. At the base, Lincoln dismounted and, to everyone's shock, dropped to his knees.
"Beta!" the guards gasped. "What are you doing?"
"Fulfilling a vow," he said calmly. "When Julia was poisoned, I prayed to the spirits here. Now she's healed, I'll honor them-one bow per step."
Julia's eyes welled up. "You don't have to do this."
But he was already bowing, his forehead hitting the stone steps. Blood soon stained his brow, step after step.
I stood in the rain, watching the wolf who once ruled my world humble himself for another she-wolf. Pilgrims around us murmured, "What a devoted mate."
Mate. The word cut like a knife. To the pack, Julia was the one on his heart. Not me. Never me.
