Chapter 2

I pressed my lips together and didn't answer.

In the second year after we became mates, Hadrian's youngest son, whom he doted on the most, suddenly had convulsions. I remembered vividly how the foam spilled from his mouth.

Constance insisted that I had mixed wolfsbane into the raw meat meant for the pups. Two highly respected female elders of the pack pinned me to the ground. They forced me to kneel in the execution grounds, where the ground was strewn with jagged gravel.

I had shot Stellan a pleading look. He had been with me the entire time. He knew perfectly well that I hadn't done it.

However, throughout the whole ordeal, he kept his head lowered and didn't say a single word. His silence hurt more than any accusation ever could.

That day, I endured 20 lashes from a thorned whip soaked in saltwater. The skin on my back split open horrifically, and I bled profusely.

When Stellan finally returned to our den, he handed me the finest healing herbs with guilt written all over his face.

He had said softly, "The timing isn't right yet. I hope you can understand."

That light, casual explanation forced me to swallow every bit of anguish I felt.

That night, the pain had woken me up. So, I thought I would go and soak my wounds in the icy spring. Unexpectedly, I heard Stellan speaking to one of his confidants outside the cave.

His voice was low, but it pierced my ears with cruel clarity. "Thank goodness it wasn't Nigella. She's so delicate. She probably couldn't even endure a single lash."

In that instant, I finally understood that everything my parents and elders used to say about feelings growing over time and true affection arising from hardship was nothing but a joke.

In Stellan's eyes, I was nothing more than Nigella's substitute. He resented me for enjoying the status and benefits that should have been hers. At the same time, he felt relieved that I was the one enduring all the suffering that should have fallen on Nigella.

After I mocked Stellan, he jumped down from the sleigh in frustration. He pulled out a handful of dry, withered herbs from his cloak and stuffed them into his mouth. Then, he chewed hard, as if doing that would drown the turmoil he felt within.

Just then, I noticed Stellan pause a little as a mental connection came in. Nigella was reaching out through the mind-link again.

I looked at the chewed-up roots that he tossed aside, not far from our sleigh. He listened intently, absentmindedly, nudging pebbles by the roadside with the tip of his boot.

That flustered and faintly delighted expression he was showing reminded me of the wolf he had been in his early 20s.

Was this the pull of a fated mate? Even after Nigella had rejected him and even after choosing a second Luna and forming a bond with her, Nigella could still enter his mind-link without the slightest resistance.

Ten minutes later, Stellan climbed back into the sleigh with an exhausted look in his eyes.

He said, "Judith, I'll take you back to the den first. Tonight, I may need to—"

"Enough," I cut him off sharply. I truly didn't want to hear whatever ridiculous excuse he was about to come up with for Nigella's sake.

Realizing my outburst, I forced myself to compose my tone into a somewhat polite one. "An Alpha doesn't need to report his schedule to me."

The detachment in my words was like an icy blade that sliced apart the last remaining trace of warmth between us.

Stellan slammed his hand against the wooden railing of the sleigh. "You've always been guarded against me. Are you really that eager to draw a line between us?"

How laughable. He was the one constantly testing the boundaries of our mate bond, but he was pinning the blame on me now.

I turned my face away, suppressing the bitterness that surged from within my chest.

My experience over the last ten years had taught me one thing well. Even if I embarrassed myself, one thing that I should uphold stubbornly was my dignity.

While we were still locked in that stalemate, Mom's thoughts came through the pack mind-link. "Sorry, Judith. Your dad and I are at our wits' end. We have no choice but to ask Stellan to come and persuade Nigella to let go of the past. Please give her a little more time? She's still young. She'll understand eventually."

I scoffed at the absurdity of that statement. Nigella was 30 years old. Was that still considered young?

It contrasted sharply with my experience ten years ago, when they had forced me to become Stellan's mate in her place.

They had said, "You're an adult. You need to learn to shoulder responsibility for the pack."

I replied coldly through the mind-link, "Mom, I didn't expect that you and Dad would still be the same old you. You're doing everything you can to clean up Nigella's messes. But at the very least, your tone is gentler than it used to be."

I had been 18 when my birth parents found me. However, Nigella couldn't tolerate my existence. Again and again, she slandered me in every clumsy and dumb way conceivable. Even so, my parents always took her side.

One time, she rolled down the steps of the altar herself and claimed I had pushed her. Dad didn't even ask why. He released his Alpha aura to the extent of rupturing my internal organs.

Mom, on the other hand, condemned me for being a vicious and cruel sister. She even screeched outright that they should never have brought me back.

Since the beginning, no one had ever asked what I wanted. They unanimously decided to send me to a branch of our family who had settled down near the borders.

Only when Nigella fled her mate-bonding did they remember that they had a spare daughter who could come in handy during an emergency. Come to think of it, the time I had actually spent with them had merely lasted a little over a year.

"Do you hate us that much, Judith?" Mom asked in disbelief.

That question made me pause.

I had thought my lack of affection toward them was obvious and plain for anyone to see. Or had these ten years without Nigella somehow made us all forget our previous stances?