Chapter 4: The Weight Of Law

Carson.

The knock wasn’t gentle. Neither was the voice that followed it.

“You’re still in bed?”

Light tore through the curtains the moment he yanked them open, dragging my senses into the morning whether I wanted it or not.

Boots clicked loudly across the marble, irritatingly sharp.

“Of all days, you picked the ceremony to sleep through?”

I groaned, dragging a forearm over my face. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Raymond stood by the tall window, already dressed in slate and black. He always matched the palace walls—stone-like and pale. 

“It’s nearly noon,” he muttered. “The seers are already gathering.” A faint glint crawled through his glasses from the morning light. 

I dragged myself up slowly, my spine twitching. “Noon’s just the moon in reverse.”

Raymond didn’t laugh. He hadn’t been born with the ability to.

“What kind of Alpha sleeps this long on an important day?” he said, nagging.

“The kind whose wolf hasn’t tried to tear through his skin for twenty-four hours. You’re welcome.”

My shirt lingered on the floor. I reached out and tugged it over my head, still warm from sleep. I glanced at Raymond.

“So… did you find her?”

“No,” he spat.

“Why?” I shot a brow up.

“We’ve gone through every record. All logs. There’s no girl with black hair and a white streak who works with medicinal herbs.”

“That’s not possible. She’s real. I saw her.”

Raymond sighed. “Then maybe you should have dragged her along right then and there.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know why either.

“She didn’t seem to recognize me, strangely. But at that moment I was more concerned about this guy.”

I placed my palm on my chest. Silence.

My steps paused in front of the mirror. My fingers scratched along the skin of my abdomen, the dark lines that had once traced my sides like burning veins 

But now… they’d dulled.

I stepped away from the mirror and started pulling on my trousers.

“My wolf stilled. Do you understand? He stilled. For the first time in ages.”

Raymond stayed quiet.

“You know what it’s been like,” I said, voice lower now. “He’s been rabid. Restless. I can barely keep him down some nights. But near her, it was like—like someone pressed pause.”

“I’m sorry, Carson. But the hair, the height, the details you gave us—no one matches everything.”

He paused. “There’s only one possible reason why. Could she be an outsider?”

I froze. Then laughed—quiet, but sharp. My jaw clenched as I turned to him.

“You think someone foolish enough to bring an outsider into my home still walks these lands?”

Raymond looked away. 

“Right,” I said, tugging on my boots. “So we find her.”

He didn’t press further; he just stood and fixed his cuffs.

“Fine. But you have a ceremony to attend. So get dressed.”

And he was gone, boots echoing behind me.

Leaving me with the question.

The lady… who was she?

But the ceremony came first.

…….

The hall was already filled up by the time I stepped in.

Robes of dusk and gold joyfully swept the floor. The walls lined like shadows by the elders. Murmurs, laughter and giggle skittered across the air. At the front, sat the seers veiled, not even a sound could be heard from them. Their faces stared down at the ground like they already knew how this would all end.

After a few glances around, a sigh slipped out and my walk began, across the crowd, inspecting the room because I had to—duty not choice. Faces bowed both familiar and unfamiliar all in attendance lowered their heads before me. The incense crawled up my nostrils—sharp and bitter enough to scratch my throat. Everything looked good enough. So I kept walking. 

The tiles winced under the weight of my steps as I climbed up the dais, my throne waited for me and this crazy guy within me. Iron backed alone at the top, A reflection of the position I held.

“Alpha Carson.” A ragged voice called out.

I turned 

A woman in pale robes stood before me, head bowed. The pack’s main healer. She held out a small ceramic dish, a swirl of dull green ointment. “For your scars,” she offered a gentle smile stretched to the edges of her aged lips. “It’ll ease any irritation during the rites.”

I nodded once, accepting it. Dipped two fingers into the balm, thick with a chilling sting, smelled like crushed herbs and riverbank mud. “What’s in it?” I asked, more out of habit than curiosity.

“The usual base, and the rare silverroot leaves, crushed and steeped overnight.”

I froze. The balm sat slick on my fingertips. “Sliverroot?” I asked, a quiet tone attached itself to my voice. My eyes widened. 

“Yes,” she nodded politely. “Hard to find this time of year, but luckily we found one because of the moon last night.”

Silverroot. That was definitely it. The same narrow-leaved plant with silver edges that I had helped her find in the woods. The girl with the white streak in her hair. And mystic eyes. The one I still wasn’t convinced I didn’t imagine. Now I was sure this balm was made from that same plant. It made sense now. I didn’t hesitate. 

“Madam, do you perhaps happen to know a young lady with black hair…. And a streak of white running through it?”

She stiffened, only for a brief second, the talented woman was a sly actress. But that was more than enough.

.

.

Maeve.

The basket dug into my hip as I climbed the path, dirt soft beneath my soles. My fingers stung from the weight, my shoulder far worse. But the ache was the good kind. The kind that came from doing something useful, being alive. 

My steps trailed down the path until I stood before the old woman’s cottage. The door, I stopped, the latch was hanging open. I’d locked it. I always lock it. My breath caught, just for a second, hope pressed on where fear should’ve bloomed. Did she return early?

I pushed the door open with my hips more like a nudge and I was right there wrapped in her shawl. Her hands twisted on her lap, shoulders stiff, relief rushed in fast and numb. 

Until my gaze met hers, and everything inside me froze. She didn’t speak, didn’t move a muscle, just stared, wide-eyed and trembling like I’d just walked into a trap and she couldn’t scream to warn me. Her gaze darted to the door behind me. It screamed. Run. 

I turned, but not fast enough. Wood splintered. Boots thundered in, and I barely got a breath in before hands grabbed me, slamming me to the ground. My knee cracked against the stone, arms were yanked behind me. A cry clawed my throat but it never came out.

“No—!” The old woman choked, her voice raw. They had her too—four of them; two on her, two on me.

What was happening? The room seemed to shrink as another pair of boots walked in. A tall figure, black hair curtained his features

But those blue eyes—I could never forget them. My heart turned to ice the closer he got. Him. The man from the lake. “You,” I muttered “You’re the guy from—“

One of the men holding down snarled. “How dare you speak to the alpha like that?” 

Alpha? My stomach dropped, all the way to the ground. 

This man was Carson Sebastian. The Alpha of the White moon. 

I couldn’t move. My thoughts struggled to make sense, my breath caught sharp in my chest and stayed there. 

He stepped toward me like he didn’t recognize me at all. His face was carved stone—no trace of the man from the lake. No flicker. Just a stare that scraped all the way through.

He crouched.

His fingers touched my hair.

Cold. Gentle. Distant.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he said. “Thought of every place you could’ve gone. I searched. I waited. I wondered…”

His gaze shifted to the old woman. Something snapped behind his eyes.

“But I never once thought someone would bring an outsider into my home.”

The tension turned suffocating.

Another man entered, blond, pale around the mouth.

“Raymond,” Carson said without looking. “Read it.”

The man’s voice came out like a stone being broken.

“Any outsider caught in the White Moon territory will be executed. And any who harbor them…”

He looked at her. At me.

“…will suffer a fate far worse.”

The old woman broke.

Her scream cracked straight through my chest.

But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink.

I looked at Carson. And for the first time, I wasn’t afraid for myself.

I was afraid for her. 

His head tilted. His eyes narrowed. 

“Rules are meant to be followed.” His gaze drifted to the old woman. “Let’s make an example of what happens when they are not.”