Chapter Nine: The Defiance

Eilis looked ready to snap her in half, his posture a jagged line of restrained violence. I felt like a bird pinned to a board, having no idea how to defend myself. 

Every word that formed in my throat felt like a trap. If I spoke to softly, I was weak, but if I spoke too firmly, my voice would betray the secret I carried beneath my corset.

What could I say in this situation? I had no proof. It was my word against a noble wolf.

Denis stepped into the circle with a slow predatory gaze,that made a look of uncertainty flash past Mila's face. “A tragic loss, Lady Mila,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “But I noticed something curious when you were screaming for a search.”

Mila flinched, her hand dropping slightly from where she had been pointing them at me. “What could you possibly have noticed besides this human’s thievery? we all saw the collision, she was right there.”

“The sapphire cuff,” Denis mused, ignoring her tone. He stepped closer, invading her personal space until Mila had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He reached out a hand, not touching her, but gesturing toward her bare wrist. “It’s a spring-lock mechanism, isn't it? A family specialty. It doesn't ‘snag’ and fall off. It has to be depressed from both sides to release.”

A murmur went through the crowd. The wolves knew their craftsmanship.

“The servant bumped her!” Mila shrieked. She looked around at her friends, searching for support, but they were already stepping back, sensing the shift in the air. “The impact must have—”

“The impactwould have shattered the crystal flutes before it broke that lock,”

Denis interrupted, his tone turning ice-cold. He turned to the servant, who was still trembling. “Boy. Show me your hands.”

The servant held out his hands, palms up. They were empty, stained only by the condensation of the spilled wine.

“Now,” Denis said, turning back to Mila. “Lady Mila, would you be so kind as to unroll your left sleeve? The one tucked so tightly into your bodice? It seems a strange way to wear such fine velvet, don't you think?”

Mila’s face went from grey to a ghostly, translucent white. She tried to step back, but the crowd of nobles—sensing a change in the wind—blocked her path.

“I—I don’t see why—”

“Because,” Denis said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “I saw you palm it the second the collision happened. You didn't lose a bracelet, you hid one. You didn't want justice, you just wanted an excuse to strip the Prince's mate in front of a gallery.”

Eilís let out a sound that wasn't human. It was a low, vibrating growl that seemed to shake the very floorboards.

“Show us,” Eilís commanded. Under the weight of Eilís's command, Mila’s muscles betrayed her. Her hand shook as she slowly reached into the heavy velvet fold of her own sleeve. Her fingers emerged clutching the sapphire cuff.

The silence that followed was deafening. It wasn't just a mistake anymore. It was a deliberate, malicious frame-job.

Mila didn't cry, she didn't even shed a tear. Instead, the fear in her eyes was replaced by a sharp, jagged defiance. She looked at the bracelet, then up at Eilís, before her gaze landed on me with a hatred so pure it felt like a physical blow.

“Yes,” she spat, the word dripping with venom. “I hid it. I wanted to see her stripped. I wanted every wolf in this hall to see the fragile, pathetic thing you’ve tied our kingdom to.”

“Mila,” Denis warned, his voice low, but she was beyond listening.

She stood tall, looking around at the gathered nobles. “Are we really going to pretend? Are we going to bow to a human? We are wolves of Caravia! Our blood is iron and moonlight, yet we are expected to share our air, our secrets, and our throne with a creature that breaks under a servant’s tray? A creature that can't even speak with a voice that doesn't sound like a dying bird?”

She pointed a trembling finger at me, and for a moment, I thought she would lung at me. “I did it because I hate that she is here. I hate that our Prince is compromised by a weak heart and a weaker mate. If a simple search would have exposed how unfit she is to stand among us, then I would do it again.”

The murmurs that followed weren't of embarrassment this time, they were of agreement. I could feel the shift in the room. Mila had said the thing they were all thinking. 

I was terrified of what they would do. Yes, I'd barely escaped being searched, but what's to say it won't happen again? What was to say a dozen Milas wouldn't corner me in a hallway where Denis couldn't see?

Eilís’s reaction was terrifying. He simply stepped toward her, his movement so fast it was a blur. He caught her by the throat, lifting her until her toes barely brushed the floor.

“You think her weakness compromises the throne?” Eilís whispered, his voice vibrating with a lethal, subsonic frequency. “It is your disloyalty that compromises it.”

His grip tightened, and I saw Mila’s hands clawing at his iron wrist.

“You hate that a human is in your midst?” Eilís leaned in, his eyes glowing a solid, predatory gold. “Then you will be glad to leave it. You are stripped of your name. You are stripped of your lands. You will be escorted to the Northern border—not to a cloister, but to the outposts. If you find humans so beneath you, perhaps you can spend your life defending us against them.”

He dropped her like a sack of unwanted grain.

“Get her out of my sight,” Eilís commanded.

Two guards moved in, dragging a gasping, broken Mila toward the doors. The court watched in stunned silence. They had seen the price of speaking their hatred aloud.

Eilís turned to me then. His hand was still trembling with the effort of not snapping her neck. He reached out, his thumb brushing against the bruise on my throat, and for a second, I saw the conflict in his eyes. He hated the court as much as they hated me.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice raw.