Draven’s POV
Elder Alden Blackmark’s eightieth birthday feast was the kind of gathering where even the wind seemed to bow its head—where every word spoken had weight, every smile was measured, and every bloodline remembered its place beneath the Moon Goddess.
I arrived at the great hall with Natalie on my arm.
Her condition was already visible now. The child she carried drew eyes the moment we stepped inside. Whispers followed like drifting ash through the hall, soft but unending. I ignored them all and kept my expression steady.
Controlled.
Composed.
Unshaken.
That was all that mattered.
Only when my grandfather entered did I release Natalie’s hand.
He was not only the head of the family—he was the one who built the Alden line from nothing but blood and will. And more than that, he had always treated Lyanna as though she belonged in this house by right.
His gaze landed on me at once.
“Where is Lyanna?” he asked.
“She is preparing your offering,” I answered smoothly. “She will arrive shortly.”
He studied me for a moment too long.
As if he could smell the lie beneath my words.
Then he said nothing and turned away.
---
Two hours passed.
Feast songs were sung.
Toasts were raised to honor the elder’s long life.
Wine flowed.
Laughter rose and fell like waves.
Still—
No Lyanna.
My eyes kept drifting toward the entrance without meaning to.
Every time.
Nothing.
My patience thinned with every passing moment.
Where was she?
I was about to step outside and summon a scout through mindlink when the great doors finally opened.
A courier entered, carrying three carefully wrapped boxes marked with faint silver sigils.
“For Elder Alden,” he announced, bowing his head. “From Lady Lyanna Blackmark.”
My chest tightened at once.
Her name always did that.
I stepped forward.
“Give them here.”
The courier shook his head.
“I was instructed to deliver them only to the honored elder.”
Of course she would be like that.
Precise.
Unyielding.
Even in absence.
I exhaled slowly and stepped aside.
“Then do it properly.”
The courier approached my grandfather and bowed deeply.
“These are from Lady Lyanna,” he said. “She sends her blessings on this moonlit day.”
My grandfather frowned.
“Why does she not present them herself?”
Silence followed too slowly.
The courier only repeated himself.
“I was only instructed to deliver them.”
A strange tension settled over the hall.
The air felt heavier.
My instincts sharpened.
Something was wrong.
Still, my grandfather accepted the first box and set it carefully before him.
“I will open them myself,” he said.
The first lid was lifted.
Inside lay an embroidered work—fine, intricate stitching woven with silver thread. A tapestry of the pack lands beneath the full moon, each detail so precise it could only have been made through long nights of steady hands and stubborn patience.
My grandfather’s expression softened.
“She made this,” he murmured.
I already knew.
I had seen her working on it in silence under candlelight, refusing aid even when her fingers bled.
The second box was opened next.
A velvet case.
Inside rested heirloom jewelry of the Alden bloodline—pieces passed down through generations.
The same ornaments she had once worn at our binding ceremony.
My throat tightened.
A cold weight settled in my chest.
Why would she return these?
My grandfather’s expression shifted, growing more serious.
Then the third box was placed before him.
I did not wait.
My hand moved first.
“Draven—” my grandfather began sharply, but I had already taken it.
I pulled it close and tore the wrapping open.
The moment I saw what lay inside, everything in me went still.
My blood ran cold.
My hand froze midair.
Inside the box was Lyanna’s wedding ring.
And beneath it—
a folded note sealed with wax bearing her crest.
