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Chapter 44: Both sides of the table

مؤلف: JessA
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-09-07 21:50:25

(ELARA'S POV)

The Luna Council meeting had been going smoothly until Maren brought up the Alpha Council elections.

We had spent most of the morning discussing trade agreements between the eastern and northern packs, going over the concerns raised by smaller territories, and trying to find a solution that would work for everyone.

It was the kind of meeting I had become used to over the years.

There were disagreements, of course, but they rarely lasted long. Most of the Lunas had learned how
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  • Marked by Gold and Ruin   Chapter 62: Unspoken Traces

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  • Marked by Gold and Ruin   Chapter 61: The Weight of Doubt

    (DARIUS' POV) The war room had become my second home. For three days, I had barely left it. Maps covered the long oak table, weighed down by stone markers representing patrol positions, trade routes, and the territories of the eastern packs. Reports were scattered between them, most carrying the same message: Trueblood was being blamed, and Ronan wasn't doing anything to stop it. I stood at the head of the table, staring down at the map of our eastern border. Matt's blood had been spilled somewhere beyond those trees and Farina had fallen into a thicket of blackthorn in the same place. I could still see it if I closed my eyes: her scream, the blood already soaking into the earth, the way my own legs had refused to move for one terrible heartbeat before instinct took over. Somehow, every road since then seemed to lead back to Ronan. I tightened my grip on the edge of the table. "He is making a mistake," I said quietly. The patrol guard standing across from me lowered his he

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    (ELARA’S POV) I stared at the tiny bead of blood pooling on my fingertip, unable to move a muscle. For several agonizing seconds, the world shrank down to that single drop. The faint crackle of the oil lamp against the stone wall sounded deafening, punctuated only by the distant, hollow whistle of the night wind rattling the windowpanes. My heart slammed against my ribs with brutal force. It couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation—a rational, mundane cause for what my eyes were telling me. I spun around and rushed to the washbasin, plunging my hand deep into the cold water. I scrubbed my index finger furiously, using the freezing chill to drown out the stinging cut until my skin was raw. I wanted the water to wash away the impossible. When I finally lifted my dripping hand, the gold was gone. Only a clean, shallow slice remained. I let out a long, shuddering breath, resting my palms against the stone edge as my shoulders caved. Then, another tiny bead of blood

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    (ELARA’S POV) The rumors had outpaced reality entirely. Trueblood had killed Matt. That was the story carrying through the eastern packs, passed along trade routes until the truth stopped mattering. Some versions claimed Matt was ambushed by Trueblood scouts deep within disputed border forest. Others insisted Ronan had ordered the strike personally because Ironridge stood in the way of his growing influence across the region. None of it was true. But knowing the truth did nothing to contain the damage. Rumors were like water in a flood; once they breached the banks, trying to reason with them was an exercise in futility. I spent most of the morning in the council room with Maeve, wading through formal correspondence that had arrived overnight. The heavy oak table was strewn with scrolls and parchment bearing various pack crests, most of them variations of the same tone—cautious inquiries, requests for clarification, or thinly veiled warnings from allies who were suddenly

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