I tried not to flinch at the sound by boots made in the corridors. I Tried not to look over my
shoulder
My pulse was already too quick my instincts would too tightly to the possibility of turning a corner and seeing either of their faces.
1hadn’t seen Damon since I returned. And I didn’t want to. Not yet.
Asher had passed me once, earlier that afternoon. I felt him before I saw him his scent brushing across my skin stirring the memory of an almost kiss.
He didn’t speak to me, but he paused a step too long as I passed, as if he might reach out.
So I kept walking. I hadn’t turned around to look back either.
By the time I reached my chambers, my shoulders were tight with tension and my braid was slipping loose. I shut the door behind me with more force than necessary and went to the mirror.
My fingers trembled slightly as I began pulling at the pins. One slipped and nicked my scalp.
“Let me,” Emma’s voice said gently behind me.
I startled. She was already inside, closing the door with a quiet click.
“You need a bell,” I muttered.
She grinned and came forward, her fingers already reaching for the braid. “You need better balance.”
“Debatable.”
She worked silently for a few breaths, loosening the last of the braid and gently brushing her fingers through the strands to unwind the tension.
“There’s a formal dinner tonight,” she said after a moment. “Foreign emissaries from the Eastern border Packs.”
I exhaled through my nose. “I was hoping I could get out of it.”
“They’ve requested full court attendance, which definitely includes you,” Emma added, softer now. “And Isabella has… adjusted the seating.”
I didn’t move. “Adjusted how?”
“You’re at the far end. Away from Damon.”
Of course I was. The corner of my mouth twitched. “She’s subtle as ever.”
Emma’s hands stilled for a beat, then resumed. “You don’t have to go.”
“I do.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “We both know I do.”
A quiet understanding passed between us. She didn’t argue. Just nodded and stepped back to give me space.
I dressed slowly, selecting a gown that was neither bright nor demure. Slate–gray silk, with a structured bodice and sharp shoulders. The sleeves shimmered faintly in the light, echoing the color of storm clouds.
It wasn’t dramatic–but it refused to be ignored.
Emma adjusted the collar and clasped a silver cuff around my wrist. “You look like a Luna,” she said.
1/3
Chapter 117
“Thanks” I took one last look in the mirror and saw someone I almost fecognized,
We walked in silence through the outer halls. The chatter of court life grew louder as we neared the great hall, laughter, polished voices, the clink of glasses and the undercurrent of judgment waiting to surface.
Just before we reached the door, I paused.
“You don’t have to stay beside me all evening.”
Emma looked at me like I’d said something absurd. “It’s me or Asher, and I don’t know what’s going on there but you’re avoiding him like wolfsbane so…. yes, I do.”
She reached out, brushed a crease from my sleeve, and looped her arm through mine.
I nodded once, the knot in my chest drawing tighter–but steadier. And then we stepped through the doors together.
The chandeliers above flickered with amber light, reflected a thousandfold in crystal glassware and the polished surface of the long banquet table.
Velvet banners of Stormfang black and gold lined the stone columns, and the air was thick with spiced wine and perfume–floral, cloying, meant to dazzle rather than please.
As Emma and I stepped inside, the room didn’t go silent. But it shifted.”
A pause, subtle and practiced. Like a breath caught in the throat of the court. Conversations lulled just long enough to notice me enter and then resumed with the careful vigor of people pretending not to be watching.
The seating had been arranged as Emma said. I scanned the length of the table and found my place quickly–far down the right side, flanked by two minor foreign lords whose names I didn’t know.
Damon sat at the head, as expected, surrounded by emissaries, military envoys, and high–ranking nobles. Isabella was seated two places from him, elegant and glowing beneath the chandelier’s light.
Emma took the chair to my left without waiting for an invitation.
“Charming arrangement,” I murmured.
She didn’t smile. “It’s fine. I don’t have to show off.”
We hadn’t even sat down before the whispers began again.
They never spoke loud enough to be heard clearly–only enough to be noticed. Snippets of breath, flickers of teeth behind glass rims.
Laughter that didn’t quite match the conversation it pretended to punctuate. My wolf stirred uneasily, pressing faintly against my ribs before receding again.
I sat tall, folding my hands loosely in my lap, my shoulders squared and my chin high. Let them look.
The servant poured the first course–pearled barley soup with bone broth and winter herbs. I sipped it carefully, anchoring myself in the motion of it. The silver spoon was cool in my hand, steady. The broth was sharp with sage and a hint of garlic. It grounded me.
I didn’t look up until I felt the weight of his gaze.
Damon’s expression was unreadable, his goblet untouched. He hadn’t said a word to me since I’d entered. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t called attention.
But he hadn’t looked away.
I met his eyes once. Just once. It was a mistake..
His gaze didn’t accuse. Didn’t demand. It simply was–a steady pressure against the part of me that wanted to pretend I didn’t care.
2/3
Chapter 117
I dropped my gaze to my plate and took another slow sip of soup.
“Don’t give them the satisfaction,” Emma murmured beside me.
“They already have it.”
“Not from you.”
Her voice was soft but certain, like a thread tying me to the floor.
The second course arrived–roasted squash, buttered greens, thin–sliced smoked meat that curled delicately at the edges,
My appetite had long since fled, but I ate anyway. Mechanically. Politely. My hands didn’t shake, but only because I focused every muscle on keeping them still.
A noblewoman across from me–a lesser heir from the Summerwind Pack—asked if I’d seen the moon forecasts for the coming season.
I answered evenly. “I read them before I arrived here.”
She smiled without warmth. “Oh, of course. You would
had
〃
man beside her chuckled under his breath.
I didn’t blink. “We make time for what matters.”
The noblewoman’s smile flickered. The conversation shifted, politely excluding me. As it always did.
Halfway through the meal, a younger emissary to my right made an offhand joke about low–born wolves–something about “decorative wolves” being causing a diplomatic stir.
I didn’t rise to it. Didn’t glance at Damon. But my fingers clenched under the tablecloth, where no one could see.
Except Emma.
Her hand reached beneath the edge of the table, resting lightly over mine, Present. Anchoring.
My shoulders lowered a fraction. Enough to breathe.
I didn’t look at Damon again. But I felt him–through every course, every silence, every scrap of laughter that skirted my chair like I wasn’t worth including.
He never looked away.
And neither did the rest of them.
2/2
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