Chapter 11

Thorne

 The report reached me just after midday, and believe me when I said that was the last thing I wanted. 

“She never returned to the capital,” the messenger said carefully, almost as if he was picking his words, so he would still have his head by the time I decided to dismiss him. “She discharged herself from the infirmary.”

I leaned back in my chair..Irritation was my first reaction. Not concern, nor curiosity, but irritation.

A pregnant luna wandering without pack protection was not tragic, it was inconvenient. It was a story waiting to be shaped by someone else’s mouth. A loose thread, and loose threads, if ignored, unraveled things, and the goddess knew the last thing I needed was anything unraveling right now. 

“Who knows?” I asked.

“Very few.” He shook his head. “It’s not public.”

“It will be.” It always was, it was just a matter of time. 

I dismissed the messenger and sat there for a long moment, fingers tapping once against the armrest before going still.

“She should have returned quietly.” I told myself. That would have been the simplest and most predictable thing to do. Instead, she had moved. She had disappeared somewhere new and without my permission. 

I gave it one last thought before I rose and sent for Calder and Brann. They arrived within minutes. My two best trackers, silent, capable and loyal to me, not to gossip.

“You called for us,” Calder said.

“Yes.” I closed the door myself. “This does not leave this room.”

“You will locate Freya,” Both men straightened slightly as I said. “Quietly. I don't want an official search, nor a council notification. I want no one aware we are looking.”

“But sir….” Brann frowned faintly. “If she’s injured….”

“She is not injured,” I cut in. “She left of her own will.”

“Okay.” Calder tilted his head. “And when we find her?”

“You report back to me.” I nodded once, a stern look on my face. “Only me.”

Neither man asked why, and that was one of the reasons I used them.

“You leave tonight,” I added. They nodded once and left without another word.

I stood there after the door closed, staring at the grain of the wood.

If Freya thought she could escape me and make this all about her, then she clearly had no idea what was coming for her. 

This was not about her safety, it was about narrative, a narrative I wanted to control so bad. A discarded luna was one thing, but a vanished, pregnant luna was another, and I did not tolerate unknown variables.

I wasn't sure how long it had been since I sent Calder and Brann away, but eventually it was time for dinner. I should have known Ravenna would pick this moment to stir up trouble. 

She always chose her moments carefully. I should have been used to it by now, but somehow, she always caught me off guard. 

At the table, the candles were lit, the meal was precisely prepared, and she wore something soft and pale that suggested gentleness rather than ambition.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said lightly, cutting her food into neat pieces.

“That is usually dangerous,” I replied without looking up.

She smiled, a small smile that was polite to others, but something entirely different to me. 

“Now that everything has… settled,” she continued, “perhaps it’s time to make things official.”

I knew what she meant before she said it, but I let her continue. 

“I want us to stand before the council,” she clarified smoothly. “and declare what everyone already assumes.”

My fork paused midair,only for a second, before I dug into my meal again. 

“The timing isn’t right,” I said.

“Why?” Her expression did not falter as she asked. “Because of her?”

“Yes.”

“She is gone,” Ravenna said softly. “That chapter is closed.”

“No,” I corrected. “It is unresolved.”

“What is wrong with you?” Her eyes sharpened just a fraction. “I know. You’re worried about appearances.”

“I’m managing them.” I set my fork down carefully.

“I need to handle the situation with Freya first,” I said through an exhale. “Then we will discuss announcements.”

Ravenna held my gaze for a long second, then she smiled.

“Of course,” she said easily. “You always think ahead.”

She reached for her wine, perfectly composed, but I saw it, the way her attention shifted inward, the way she measured my tone rather than my words.

She had expected relief.Instead, she found alertness. She was not wrong.

Something that had been contained was now moving without my knowledge or approval. I could feel it like pressure in the air before a storm.

Freya had never defied me directly. She had always endured, she had absorbed, and she had stayed within the lines drawn for her.

Leaving without permission was not endurance. It was a decision, a decision that was going to ruin me in the long run if I didn't try to control things. 

Ravenna continued speaking about trivial matters, council seating, harvest yields, even minor disputes among lower-ranking families.

I answered where required, but my mind tracked elsewhere. I marked paths out of the capital, caravan routes, and even travel speeds for a woman five weeks pregnant.

I had just asked myself how far she could reasonably have gone by now when Ravenna’s laughter cut through my thoughts.

“You’re distracted,” she said lightly. She had a small smile on her lips, but it wasn't anywhere friendly. 

“I have responsibilities.” I shot back 

“You always have responsibilities.” She tilted her head. “This feels different.”

“It isn’t.”I met her eyes. “You're overthinking it.” 

She held my gaze a heartbeat longer than necessary, then she looked down at her plate again.

“Very well,” she murmured.

She had accepted my answer, outwardly, but I knew Ravenna. She catalogued reactions the way others collected jewelry.

She would store this, examine it later, and use it if needed.

That night, I stood alone on the balcony overlooking the pack grounds. The wind carried the scent of pine and damp earth and somewhere beyond those trees, two trackers were already moving.

“Good.” I murmured to myself. “Find her.”

All they needed to do was find her. That was all this required, and yet, the irritation had shifted into something sharper.

Alertness.

The kind that surfaces when a piece on the board moves without your hand guiding it.

I exhaled slowly.

Freya had never been strategic. She had never been bold. She had been compliant, predictable and safe. 

So why did her absence feel less like a disappearance, and more like the first crack in something I had assumed was solid?

I turned back toward the house.

Calder and Brann would find her, and when they did, I would decide what happened next.

Not her, but me.

Always me.