Chapter 3

I'd gotten the letter yesterday, and someone had hand-delivered the formal documents too—tucked inside an elegant black envelope that I'd stashed in my jewelry box in the bedroom.

There was no way I was the one who'd been chosen.

My eyes dropped to the letter in my hand, the one Ayara had just shoved at me. I already knew what was inside without opening it.

"What difference does it make if I read it or not?"

Lucian's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Ayara cut him off. She was wrapped in a silk sheet with one bare shoulder exposed, and her voice came out soft and cloying. "Lucian, why are you still talking to her? I'm freezing." The deliberate sweetness in her tone made my stomach turn.

He hurried back inside to tuck the blanket around her, his voice going gentle. "You just went through a lot. Stay in bed and rest. I'll have them crank the heat up all the way and bring hot water so I can clean you up myself."

"Okay." Ayara snuggled into his chest, clearly satisfied, but then her tone shifted. "We just... you know... and she heard everything. If Eve goes around telling people, my reputation will be ruined."

"Don't worry," Lucian interrupted her, and his voice carried an edge of absolute certainty. "I marked you, so I'm taking responsibility. In five days we'll hold the official marking ceremony. I won't let anyone disrespect you."

Then he turned to look at me, and those eyes that used to make my heart race were nothing but cold now. "I was wrong about you. If you'd been the one chosen, you probably would've crawled into my bed the second you got the news, crying and begging me to mark you. You're Marcus's sister and you're stooping to trashy tactics like eavesdropping. Marcus isn't here, but I'm his best friend, so I have every right to discipline you on his behalf."

He paused, and his voice got even icier. "Go to your room and stand on the balcony for two hours. Think about what you did. Don't come inside and don't turn on the heat."

Lucian had come south to clear out the rogue wolves near the border, and Marcus was worried he might run into trouble, so he'd rushed down from the capital to help.

For convenience, Marcus and I were both staying at Lucian's estate.

Even though we were in the south, the damp cold of deep winter at night was brutal. Yesterday we'd even gotten a rare heavy snowfall, and now the entire estate was buried under thick white drifts.

I stood on the balcony, and the bitter wind cut into my skin like knives. My constitution had always been weaker than most—I got cold more easily than other wolves—and on top of that, I had chronic cold sensitivity that made everything worse.

Two hours later, my lips had turned blue-purple, and my legs were so numb I could barely feel them. I had to lean against the railing just to stay upright.

Peach, the maid I'd brought with me, tried to go to the kitchen to get me some hot water, but someone sent her back with a mocking rebuke that made my blood boil.

"The Commander said Ms. Frostclaw has a delicate constitution and can't handle the cold, so all the heating in the estate has to go to her quarters first. She's going to be our future Commander's mate, after all!"

"As for your mistress? She's the General's sister—she's strong as an ox. What's a few hours in the cold to her?"

Peach came back empty-handed, looking miserable and hurt.

I leaned against the cold railing, and a memory hit me hard, whether I wanted it or not.

It was the first time Lucian led troops north to fight off the rogue packs invading our territory. Winter, just like now. Marcus had taken me to the front lines to show support.

Lucian came back victorious but covered in wounds. He ran a fever that wouldn't break, and even our best pack healers couldn't do anything—silver wounds don't heal like normal injuries. They burn from the inside out.

I remember that freezing night.

I snuck out to the snow-covered fields outside the military camp and let my body temperature drop dangerously low. Cold skin could help bring down a werewolf's fever—it was risky, but it worked.

Later, I slipped into his tent and pressed my ice-cold body against his burning skin.

All night long.

Lucian's fever broke, but I ended up with severe cold sensitivity that persisted. Omegas already run cold, but after that night, my body couldn't regulate temperature anymore. Every winter since then, I've gotten sick.

When Lucian found out what I'd done, he didn't say thank you.

However, I recall him arranging for ten trucks of the finest heating equipment from the northern territories, including a custom climate control system designed specifically for wolves with temperature regulation issues.

He'd told me then, "The north is brutal, but as long as I'm breathing, Eve will never be cold again."

I gripped the envelope so hard my nails nearly tore through the paper.

That gentle promise was like winter snow—soft and beautiful when it fell, but it melted away fast and left nothing behind.