Elyon returned to the pack manor before midnight with rain clinging to his dark cloak and blood staining the edge of his sleeve.
Violence had always suited him best.
After bloodshed, Alpha Elyon Vesper became frighteningly calm, every movement graceful and controlled, as though nothing in this world could truly touch him. He could order a wolf flogged before the council fire and still come home gentle enough to ask whether I had eaten supper.
When he entered my chambers, I sat beside the window with a wool blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The ceremonial parchment from the chapel remained hidden beneath the cushion beside me.
He paused at the doorway, silver eyes settling on me.
“You are still awake.”
I reached for the small slate resting on my lap and wrote carefully across its surface.
I could not sleep.
Something softened in his expression.
Elyon crossed the room and knelt beside my chair, his fingers brushing my cheek with familiar tenderness. His touch was warm despite the rain.
“Nervous about the mating rites?” he asked quietly.
I looked at him in silence.
He was so skilled at pretending.
For three years, he had looked at me as though I were something precious to him, something untouched by the cruelty of the world he ruled. Sometimes I believed it so completely that I forgot Alpha Elyon Vesper had built his power upon fear long before he ever placed a crown of protection over my head.
I lowered my gaze and wrote another question.
May we visit my mother tomorrow?
His hand stilled against my face.
Only briefly.
But I saw it.
“The capital healers are better suited to her condition,” he said smoothly. “They advised against visitors until her spirit stabilizes.”
You moved her without telling me.
“I intended to tell you.” His voice remained calm. “The northern roads flooded after the storm. It was safer this way.”
Then let me speak with her healer.
Something colder flickered behind his eyes.
“Lyra,” he murmured softly, “do not make this difficult.”
There he was.
Not the man who held me gently at night.
The Alpha beneath him.
Before I could answer, the chamber doors opened again.
Adrielle entered without permission, wrapped in pale cream silks with black pearls woven through her silver hair.
My breath caught instantly.
The pearls belonged to my mother.
It was the mourning veil recovered after the rogue massacre — the only piece of my family Elyon had ever returned to me.
Adrielle touched the veil lightly and smiled with practiced innocence.
“I hope you do not mind,” she said sweetly. “Elyon thought it would suit the ceremony song.”
My fingers tightened around the slate hard enough to ache.
Elyon barely glanced at me. “It is only for the rites, Lyra. Do not be childish.”
Childish.
My mother’s veil rested on another woman’s head, and I was childish for grieving it.
Adrielle drifted closer like soft smoke. “You have always been generous with me,” she said. “Your songs, your guidance… even your name. Surely one little veil means nothing.”
My name.
She spoke the words gently, yet they struck deeper than claws.
Elyon turned toward her. “Go downstairs. I will join you shortly.”
Adrielle pouted faintly. “But you promised to review the Nyxaria inheritance scroll with me.”
Silence filled the room.
Elyon’s gaze sharpened at once.
I lowered my eyes before he could read the shock on my face.
Adrielle realized her mistake immediately. A nervous laugh escaped her lips.
“I misspoke,” she said quickly. “The performance scroll. I am anxious about the ceremony.”
She slipped from the room moments later.
Elyon watched the doors close before turning back to me once more.
“Rest tonight,” he said quietly. “Tomorrow will be long.”
Then he left.
I waited until the sounds of his footsteps faded completely before rising from the bed.
Alpha Elyon’s private study rested on the second floor behind an ironwood door marked with old lunar wards. Years ago, he trusted me enough to allow me inside whenever he needed council records or treaty scrolls brought to him.
Or perhaps he had simply believed a voiceless she-wolf without allies would never dare betray him.
The ward accepted my touch and clicked open.
Inside, moonfire candles burned low across shelves lined with ancient scrolls and territorial maps. I searched the great desk quickly until I found the parchment hidden within the second drawer.
The moment I unrolled it, cold spread through my body.
It was not a ceremony contract.
It was a bloodright transfer.
Every composition tied to the name Nyxaria — every moon hymn, every sacred melody, every future song I would ever create — would legally belong to Adrielle Vale after the mating ceremony.
My signature line already waited at the bottom.
Beside it lay another document bearing my mother’s healer seal.
Security collateral.
If I signed the transfer, Adrielle gained Nyxaria.
If I refused, my mother lost protection.
My hands trembled.
Then voices sounded beyond the hallway.
I barely managed to hide behind the towering bookcase before the study doors opened.
Elyon entered first.
Lucien followed behind him.
The Beta’s voice carried quiet irritation. “You are moving too quickly. Lyra is not foolish.”
“She is loyal,” Elyon answered. “That is different.”
“She will notice the Nyxaria transfer.”
“She will sign if her mother’s survival depends upon it.”
Silence followed for a moment.
Then Lucien spoke again, quieter this time.
“And after the mating ceremony?”
“Adrielle will inherit Nyxaria publicly,” Elyon said without hesitation. “Lyra remains hidden until the Corvayne moonstone territory is fully absorbed into Vesper lands.”
Lucien’s tone darkened. “And if she refuses?”
Elyon answered calmly.
“Then she disappears.”
Something inside me cracked soundlessly.
I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop the trembling breath that nearly escaped me.
After they left, I remained hidden for several minutes before forcing myself to move.
Back in my chambers, I opened the small mindstone hidden beneath my pillow — the enchanted communication stone that had sent warnings throughout the evening.
Before I could carve a reply across its glowing surface, new words appeared.
If you wish your mother to live, stop trusting the Alpha who calls you his future Luna.
My pulse quickened.
Who are you?
The answer surfaced slowly beneath my trembling fingers.
Draven Nightbane.
My breath caught sharply in my throat.
Alpha Draven Nightbane ruled the western territories beyond the blackwater forests. His pack controlled the trade routes, the silver mines, and half the moonstone markets in the realm. The Vesper Pack called him dangerous, ruthless, impossible to control.
I stared at the glowing words before writing one final question.
Why are you watching me?
This time, the answer came immediately.
Because I know who Nyxaria truly is, Lyra Corvayne.
A long pause followed.
Then one final line appeared beneath it.
And unlike Elyon Vesper, I have been waiting for you to remember your own voice.
