MasukI made a huge mistake. It was supposed to be a simple midnight run, my last night of freedom before my doomed mating to the Alpha's brother Derrick. Until he came. I'm attacked and marked by a rogue wolf. I survived, but just barely, the mark covered by my wedding dress. The wedding was going according to plan, until my attacker bursts into the wedding hall. I thought he was just a rogue wolf. But no. He's the Alpha of Stonefield Pack. And my husband's older brother. Fearless, merciless, cruel. My marriage is nothing but a peace treaty for my family, my people. The bond with Keon is impossible to ignore. And when hidden truths about my blood springs up, it could bring everything this treaty stands for to ash. Keon should let me go. But no mortal can undo what the moon has done.
Lihat lebih banyakChapter 63: Winter's POV The room is silent after her last words. If the Eye of The Witcher, the single most important ancient symbol of protection and favor to Witchkind that hasn't been reported to make a single appearance since the Wolf-Witch War, wasn't what scared her, I don't know if I want to know what does. "Those dreams you said you had. They're different from the type your grandma and all the women in our family used to have." I feel like pulling my hair out. I chuckle under my breath. Just how different am I huh? She continues, probably sensing my distress. "I don't mean to scare you Winter." She sighs. "It's just that, when we dream, it's majorly distorted flashes and glimpses that make no sense until later down the line. Now you're reporting full on episodes with vivid details and..." I turn to her when she doesn't say anything. "And what?" "It just scares me, that's all. When your grandmother dreamt of the flood, all she saw were muddied floors and a dr
Winter's POV For a long moment after my mother's words, neither of us speaks. The room is quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the distant sounds of the palace beyond the walls. I should be thinking about the relics. Or the attacks. Or the eye from my dreams. Instead, I can't stop thinking about one sentence. "We weren't always... like this." It keeps circling through my mind. Because if there is one thing I have always been certain about, it is that my parents were never happy. I grew up watching them occupy the same spaces while somehow feeling miles apart. Every conversation was measured. Every interaction polite. Cold. Like two rulers sharing a kingdom instead of a husband and wife sharing a life. I never questioned it. It simply was. The idea that there might have been something else before that feels impossible. My mother studies me quietly. "You don't believe me." I blink. "I don't know what to believe." A sma
Winter's POVThe silence after my mother's words feels heavier than anything that came before them."If he is right, Winter... then the attacks against you are not random anymore."The sentence hangs in the air between us long after she finishes speaking.I stare at her.She stares back.For the first time since she entered the room, neither of us seems to know what to say next.Outside the window, the palace continues moving as though nothing has changed. Guards patrol the grounds. Servants cross the courtyard carrying baskets and crates. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear wolves training.Normal sounds.Normal life.Meanwhile, my mother has just told me that someone may be targeting me for reasons that go far beyond politics.I suddenly feel very tired.My gaze drops to my hands.They look steady.I don't feel steady."What aren't you telling me?"My voice comes out quieter than I intend.Mother doesn't answer immediately.That alone tells me enough.A knot forms in my stomach."
Keon stands from the chair, waving to me slightly before walking out. Probably to welcome Mother or something. They spend a good five minutes together, discussing in hushed tones.When Keon mindlinks me goodbye, I know it's time to face the music.I'm shaking.Why am I shaking?The door closes quietly behind my mother, shutting out the corridor and everything beyond it, but the silence she brings into the room feels heavier than noise ever could. She just stands there looking at me. Really looking at me. And suddenly I feel sixteen again instead of twenty three. Like I am about to be questioned over something I cannot explain properly. Her gaze moves slowly across my face, lingering on the shadows beneath my eyes before drifting lower, noticing the blanket wrapped around me, the herbs on the nearby table, the untouched drink the doctor left behind. Then her eyes lift back to mine. “You look exhausted,” she says quietly. Not judgmental. Not cold. Which somehow makes






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