Chapter 62
Damon
The numbers stared back at me, neat and sharp and final.
I tapped the edge of the parchment with the corner of my ring, the metallic clink loud in the otherwise quiet chamber. The candidate standings
An elegant way of saying who was rising, and who the court had begun to forget. And who I was supposed to mate with like some royal stud.
Nora was climbing.
She had poise. Confidence. Her Pack was well–positioned politically, and her council performance had been impressive, if a bit rehearsed. The nobles had taken to calling her “the favored flame.” The public polls mirrored the sentiment.
“Strategic alignment with her would be well–received,” Jackson said quietly from across the desk. “She polls highly among the eastern territories, and the nobles in the North have signaled tentative support.”
“And Vanessa?” I asked.
“Still strong,” Ronan said. “But slipping. Her family’s recent trade deals with the Western coast are under scrutiny.”
“And Elena?”
That silence said everything.
“She’s holding,” Ronan offered. “But barely. Her scores are stable, but her visibility is low. She’s not making waves.”
Not anymore, I thought.
Jackson cleared his throat, offering another scroll. “We’ve had requests to spotlight more events featuring the higher–ranked candidates. Public outreach, luncheons, maybe a sponsored charity visit.”
“And you want me to smile for the cameras,” I said flatly.
Jackson winced. “It would help. The Luna selection has always been, a symbol as much as a decision. People want to feel involved.”
I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the proverbial crown pressing a little heavier against my temples. “We’ll approve one event. Gardens. Informal.”
“And the pairing?” Ronan asked.
“Don’t assign it yet,” I said. “Let me think about it.”
They exchanged a glance but said nothing more.
When they finally left, I remained seated, the report still unfurled across the desk. Inked names, carefully ranked. As if that, more than how I felt about, could measure who belonged beside me.
My gaze drifted to the column where she lingered–still “Lady Elena,” still in the running. But just barely.
I still didn’t know who she was. But her unknown/name pulsed under my tongue now, thick with want and warning.
She hadn’t looked back when she walked out of the conservatory.
Her back had been straight, shoulders set, but I remembered the tremor in her voice when she said “If you ever figure out what it means to be loved instead of obeyed…”
That had haunted me. More than I’d admit.
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Chapter 62
closed my eyes, leaning forward, pressing both hands against the table’s edge, My grip tightened.
She was a llar. Maybe not in every way, maybe not even in the ways that mattered most–bit enough. There were too many cracks in ker se questions without answers,
And yet, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see deception. I saw the fighter with fire in her eyes and tremble in her lips. I saw her hande as they she offered me her heart in that quiet, breathless way.
You said I don’t see you. Maybe you’re right. But I want to.
I meant those words. I still did.
Zane shifted restlessly in the back of my mind. He didn’t understand hesitation. He didn’t care about lies or legacy. He only cared that we hadn’t touched her since. That her scent no longer filled these halls.
She left, I told him.
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. She had returned. Quietly. Earnestly. And I had barely looked at her.
I opened the drawer to my left, the one I hadn’t touched since the last note she’d read. My hand hovered over the sealed letter inside–unfinished,
unsent.
Instead, I let it go glanced out the window.
The gardens below were empty this time of day. Just shadows stretching over the hedges. Soon we’d hold another trial. Soon she’d be forced to face Nora and Vanessa. Wolves in noble’s clothing.
I wasn’t supposed to care who won. But I did. And that, more than anything, terrified me.
I picked up the reports again and Zane growled the moment Vanessa’s name appeared again. Low. Threatening. Deep enough I felt it in the base of my spine. I didn’t blame him.
She was in four separate reports this time. Two from nobles praising her composure, one from the royal scribes noting her popularity spike in the northeastern packs, and one from an anonymous court whisper suggesting she was “already operating as if she’d won.”
Zane’s reaction didn’t fade. If anything, it coiled tighter in my gut. He didn’t like her scent. He didn’t like her voice. He didn’t like the way she circled Elena
like prey.
Neither do I, I admitted silently.
I shoved the reports to the edge of the desk, letting them scatter across the wood. Names and rankings, performance notes, elegant calligraphy trying to measure chemistry, appeal, viability.
None of it mattered. None of it felt like it mattered.
Because the truth was–I didn’t feel anything for the others.
Not Nora, despite her strength and polish. Not Vanessa, for all her calculated charm. Not the others who fluttered around the court like petals waiting to be plucked.
Only her. Only Elena. Whoever she really was beneath that intoxicating scent and beautiful face.
And that made everything worse.
I stood abruptly, shoving the chair back with a scrape. My shoulders ached from tension I hadn’t noticed I’d been holding all morning. I cr once, twice, then stopped near the table beside the hearth. The fire had burned low again, smoldering but not dead.
I thought about summoning her.
he room
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Thought about sending a page, having her called to my office under some pretense. A strategy debrief. A performance review,
But I knew I wouldn’t ask her about the selection. I would ask why she lied. I would ask what was real.
Or maybe—I wouldn’t ask anything at all. Maybe I’d just stand there and see if the silence between us had changed.
I moved to my desk. reaching for the formal orders. All it would take was one stroke of ink. One line, and she’d be here.
But my hand hovered above the parchment and didn’t move. Because I didn’t know what I wanted from her.
An explanation? An apology? To hear her say she meant the kiss, the song, the way her voice broke in the greenhouse when it was just us?
Or maybe I just wanted her to be innocent.
Zane paced restlessly inside me, teeth flashing in frustration.
He wanted to run. To hunt. To find her and make her speak. Wolves didn’t do diplomacy. They didn’t do denial.
They followed instinct. And my instinct was a mess.
Instead of writing the order, I reached for a blank scrap of parchment. Nothing with a royal crest. No seal. Just plain paper, torn at the edges. Something anonymous. Forgettable.
I picked up the pen, my fingers already smudged with ink from the morning’s reports. And the words came before I had time to question them.
You are not as invisible as you think.
I didn’t sign it. Didn’t date it. I folded it cleanly, pressed it flat.
It wasn’t a summons. It wasn’t a declaration. Just…a whisper in the dark. A hand on a locked door.
I rang the bell for a page, one of the young ones who hadn’t yet learned how to ask questions. I handed him the folded note.
“For Lady Elena,” I said.
“Do you want it delivered now, Sire?” he asked.
I nodded once. “Quietly. No need for anyone to see.”
The boy bobbed his head and slipped from the room.
I stood at the window again, the same damn spot I always ended up in when I couldn’t breathe right.
Outside, the wind curled across the lawn, tugging at the edges of banners and gowns alike. Somewhere out there, she was walking these grounds. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Trying to survive in a palace built for predators.
I didn’t know if I wanted her comforted or warned. But I knew I wanted her to know. She wasn’t invisible.
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