“About a week ago, he tried to kill himself by overloading his brain with pressure. Father stopped it, but…” I shake my head. “The damage was done.” “I heard.” Her voice is low now, shadowed with something heavier than concern. “The fact that he’s been repeating the same thing ever since…” I trail off, letting the weight of it hang between us. “It has to mean something.” “What was the phrase again?” “‘Destroy the cursed silver blessed by the moon.’” She sits back, lips pressing into a line as she folds her arms. “And this was after you translated it?” “Yes. The old tongue isn’t easy to come by, but we found someone who could piece it together. They think the cursed silver is some kind of ancient relic.” “Like a Treasure? Hmm…” Her gaze drifts toward the shelves as though the answer might leap out of the books themselves. Then she snaps back to me. “Does your father have people looking into this too?” I laugh under my breath. “You know him. He’s in guardian mode. Leaves the hou
“What now?” she asks, gaze steady. “You could remove your mask.” I recline deeper into the bed, trying to sound casual though every nerve in me is alert, not wanting to miss a beat. “I…” She hesitates, her hand twitching like she almost considers it. “Is there a reason you have to hide?” My tone softens, careful. “It’s a precaution,” she answers quickly. I exhale slowly. Regardless of what binds us, she’s right. We’re still strangers. Trust doesn’t grow in a single night. “NOT because I don’t trust you.” She rushes to clarify, shaking her head. “I just… I want to keep my identity hidden for now.” “I respect that.” I nod, even as disappointment pricks beneath my skin. The room quiets again, thick with unspoken words. For years, I imagined this moment, rehearsing conversations a thousand times. Yet here I am… empty, fumbling, unable to remember a single one. Her sudden movement jolts me. She rises from the chair. “I should probably go now.” I’m on my feet instantly. “How will I
Mate. My wolf nudges me. I feel his excitement through our bond. “It’s you.” My words fall out before I can stop them. I take one step closer, then freeze, afraid of what might happen if I move any further. Her green eyes, clear and unyielding, follow the motion with startling ease, as though she can read me better than I read myself. “I’ve been looking for you,” I admit, the confession slipping past my guard. “I checked all the healer records, asked the staff if anyone remembered seeing you that night, but…” My voice falters. I pause, catching myself. I sound desperate. Too desperate. My wolf bristles, ears up, posture rigid, his gaze sweeping over her small frame draped in loose black fabric. He’s on alert, but beneath that, he’s restless. “I almost thought I imagined you.” I try for a smile, though it feels brittle, shaky at the corners. Instead of moving closer, I retreat back into the shadows of my room, the darkness suddenly safer than being so near her. Her response makes
“Not one single person knows a thing about her.” My fists curl so tight my knuckles blanch white against the desk. Inside, my wolf lets out a low, broken whimper. “You’re not the only one who wants to see her again,” I mutter aloud, exhaling hard through my nose. My shoulders sag with the sound. “But there’s nothing we can do if we can’t find her.” I drag my gaze across the mess of papers scattered across my office desk along with dozens of files stacked and unstacked, loose notes crammed with half-baked leads. Every page details one of the twenty high healers left in existence, now that ten have already been murdered. And not a single one of them is even a wolf. The frustration boils hot in my chest. I snatch up a handful, skim the names again, then groan and toss them back down. Sheets scatter across the polished wood like snow. Staring at the weathered faces of middle-aged strangers won’t bring me any closer to her. A draft stirs through the room, rustling the loose pages. The
I frown, confusion knotting my brow. “There had to be someone. She was the one who saved me.”“I’m certain none were in attendance.” He studies me for a long moment before conceding with a slow nod. “But I trust what you’re saying. What did she look like?”“She had… black and silver hair.” My brows furrow. The memory slips and slides like water. “And her eyes—blue? No… green… or grey? I can’t…” My jaw tightens. “I’m sure about her hair. And she was in her early to mid-twenties.”“Twenties,” he echoes, humming low. “All the high healers capable of such a feat are well over forty.”“I’m sure of it,” I insist, leaning forward. “She was definitely that young.”“Is she a wolf?”My wolf nods. “Yes. I couldn’t sense it because I was so out of it but my wolf can tell.”“He’s active?” My father’s eyes widen. He knows all about how my wolf has been barely active in regular activities. He was completely uninterested in basically anything that didn’t need him to fight. He’s the reason I got that
The halls of the mansion echo softly beneath my footsteps, the sound bouncing off portraits of ancestors and canvases of art that line the walls. Every color leaps at me, unapologetically bold, vivid and almost overwhelming. The vibrance is beautiful, but it needles behind my eyes like a headache waiting to burst. With a sigh, I tug the sunglasses down from the top of my head. The tinted lenses dull the glare, muting the world into something I can actually bear. I’m healed, completely. But my body still hasn’t learned how to exist in color again. A small smile tugs at my lips anyway. I’ll get used to it. It’s a small price to pay after fifteen years behind a cursed veil of red. My father’s quarters are in the lower main wing of the mansion, close to his offices. The upstairs belongs to our private life which holds my room, my office, my mother’s untouched room, and a scattering of doors I hardly remember. My father refuses to leave this house unless it’s absolutely necessary. Everyo