The Language of Weakness.

Keon’s POV:

The room feels colder after Ariana enters the room.

The kind of cold that settles under your skin when you know a difficult conversation is coming.

Her shoulders are somewhat stiff, even though she’s trying to hide it under the coat she’s wearing, the spellbook in her arm.

She stops near one of the stone pillars, greeting me. I respond. She folds her arms tightly across her chest. The torches along the walls flicker, their light uneven and restless. My wolves were still unsettled inside me, their energy mirroring the tension that refused to leave my body.

“Alpha Keon,” she says coldly.

Her tone alone told me enough.

“It’s about the attack, isn't it?” I say.

My voice is calm, but there is no warmth in it. I don’t bother, I already knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

A brief silence followed.

“Yes.”

There was no attempt to soften the blow on her end.

Our eyes meet.

She looks tired, but not fragile. Whatever she came to say had clearly been sitting in her mind for a while.

I waited.

She studied me for a moment before speaking.

“My people are not happy.”

Straight to the point.

Of course they weren’t.

I clenched my jaw but said nothing, allowing her to continue.

“They’re upset,” she added. “Not worried. Upset.”

There was a difference, and we both knew it.

My gaze hardened. “Winter is alive.”

Ariana’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s not the standard they measure this by.”

The words irritated me more than they should have.

“What exactly are they measuring, then?” I asked.

Her eyes didn’t waver. “Standards like stability, judgment and control.”

Something inside my chest tightened.

I unfolded my arms, then crossed them again, my patience already thinning. “Say what you actually came to say, Ariana.”

She didn’t react to the edge in my tone.

“They think you’ve failed.”

I can tell she’s not trying to be dramatic or lie about it for effect. Her people were furious. Not about their people’s welfare, but how her weakness affected them. It was despicable.

For a split second, the hallway felt completely silent. Even the torch flames seemed to still.

My wolves stirred violently inside me, irritation flashing hot and sharp, but I forced my expression to remain unreadable.

“Failed,” I repeated.

“Yes.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

“Winter was attacked by someone who bypassed layers of security,” I said evenly. “That is not failure. That is sabotage.”

“To them, it’s the same thing. An attack on your turf in your own home while you were around too? To them it’s a sign…maybe you’re not as powerful-”

A growl slips from my throat before I can control it.

Despite preparing for these kind of things after the attack, hearing my “failure” repeated back to me aggravates me.

Witches and wolves rarely viewed power the same way.

The powerful rule, the weak make errors, become weak over time and crumble.

And to outsiders, right now, I had made the first error.

My gaze drifted briefly to the floor before returning to her. “They don’t understand our systems.”

She replies immediately,

“They understand the consequences.”

That answer came too quickly, too firmly.

I studied her more closely now. This wasn't an accusation or hostility.

This was a representation.

She wasn’t speaking as Winter’s sister.

She was speaking as a Witch.

As the daughter of the High Wizard.

As a representative of a people we share a feeble peace treaty with.

“They believe,” Ariana continued, “that if Winter can be hurt under your protection, then the treaty itself is unstable.”

Dammit.

My chest tightened.

There it was.

The real concern here.

Politics, power and perception.

I resisted the urge to scoff. “One attack does not collapse an alliance.”

“It can,” she replied calmly, “if it exposes weakness.”

Weakness.

That word again.

It scraped unpleasantly against my thoughts.

Winter’s face flashed through my mind; her pale, injured, unconscious.

My jaw tightened again.

“She is not weak,” I said.

Ariana’s eyes softened slightly, but only slightly.

“I know that. My people do not.”

Silence stretched between us.

I hated how much that bothered me.

Not because witches doubted me, doubt was expected in leadership, but because Winter would carry the weight of that doubt more than anyone else.

And she already carried too much.

“They’re questioning your judgment,” Ariana said.

That pulled my full attention back to her.

“My judgment?” I asked flatly.

“Yes.”

My irritation flared again. “On what basis?”

“They think you’re too emotionally involved.”

I went completely still.

Of all the arguments I had anticipated, that one struck closest to something I had no intention of discussing.

“My emotions,” I said slowly, “have never compromised my rule.”

Ariana tilted her head slightly.

“They don’t see it that way.”

“Because they’re outsiders.”

“Because they’re observers.”

The correction was subtle, but deliberate.

“They believe,” Ariana went on, “that your decisions are becoming reactive rather than strategic.”

I laughed once. A short, humorless sound.

“Strategic?” I repeated. “Winter was nearly killed.”

“And that,” Ariana said quietly, “is exactly their point.”

I felt my patience strain.

I stared at her.

She didn’t back down.

In alliances, perception could be more dangerous than reality.

I rubbed a hand across my jaw, tension pulsing relentlessly through my body. “So what exactly do they want?”

Ariana paused.

Like she was choosing her words carefully.

“They want reassurance.”

“That’s vague.”

“They want proof.”

My eyes snapped back to hers.

“Proof of what?”

“Proof that Winter is safe under wolf protection. Proof that this won’t happen again. Or else…the peace may come to an end.”

A cold feeling slid down my spine.

Proof.

I already disliked where this was heading.

“And how,” I asked slowly, “do they expect that to be demonstrated?”

Another brief silence.

She finally speaks:

“By tightening restrictions around her.”

My chest hardened instantly.

“No.”

The refusal left my mouth without thought.

Without hesitation.

Ariana didn’t react, but I could see the tension flicker behind her eyes.

“Keon-”

“No,” I repeated, more firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s not confinement, they’re simply suggesting protection. Think of it as protective freedom. She can live, but safely.”

I stepped forward slightly, my wolves bristling at the implication. “Winter is not to be confined to satisfy the political anxiety of your people.”

I knew what something like that would do to Winter. It would kill her spark. Her light.

Ariana’s gaze sharpened.

“She was nearly killed. My sister…Was nearly killed on your territory, more or less because of you. Do you understand how important it is that I know she’s safe?”

“I am aware, Ariana, but regardless, she will not live like a guarded artifact because of that.”

“This is bigger than comfort, Alpha Keon.”

“This is bigger than optics Ariana”

We held each other’s gaze.

Neither yielding.

Neither softening.

“You don’t understand the pressure on my people,” Ariana said.

“And they don’t understand Winter.”

That answer came harder than intended.

But I meant every word.

Winter had spent enough of her life being managed, judged, measured.

I would not become another force doing the same.

Ariana studied me for a long moment. Something in her face has changed.

Then her voice raises slightly.

Quieter.

More personal.

“They’re scared,” she said.

The shift caught me off guard.

Not politically.

But emotionally.

“Not for her safety, but for their stupid reputation. But I…I need to know my sister will be okay, K-Alpha Keon.”

The behavior of her people irritates me.

They don’t truly care for her. Just them. Using cages disguised as precaution to protect their egos.

I exhaled slowly, forcing some of the tension from my chest.

At least Winter has someone who actually cares for her.

“I will increase security,” I said. “Double guards. Internal reviews. Patrol restructuring.”

“That’s not what they’re asking though.”

“I don’t care.”

The words came colder than before.

Ariana’s eyes narrowed slightly. Her previous mood has vanished.

“You should.”

“No,” I said evenly. “What I should care about is Winter’s recovery. Not satisfying fear-driven demands.”

Silence again.

“They’re beginning to question the balance of power in this alliance.”

That made my entire body stiffen.

Not in surprise or confusion.

But recognition.

There it was.

The real fracture line.

Not Winter’s safety.

Authority.

Trust.

Leverage.

Power.

My gaze darkened. “Are they threatening withdrawal?”

“They’re expressing concern.”

“Same thing.”

“They’re not enemies, Keon.”

“Then they shouldn’t behave like skeptics waiting for failure.”

She smirks for a second before smoothing her face.

“They kind of are. And you shouldn’t dismiss the fears of an allied people whose princess was nearly assassinated.”

The title hit sharply.

Princess.

Not just Winter.

Not just my—

No.

I shut that thought down instantly.

This conversation had crossed into dangerous territory.

I straightened slowly, my posture shifting, instincts tightening.

“I will not restrict Winter’s movements,” I said calmly. “That is final.”

Ariana held my gaze.

Calculating.

Then, after a long pause;

“I’ll tell them what you said.”

Not in agreement, just acceptance.

But I could hear the tension beneath it.

This was far from over.

She turned to leave.

Then stopped.

“One more thing,” she said.

I waited.

Her eyes flicked back to mine.

“They also want an explanation for the security breach.”

My chest tightened.

“They think it was internal.”

The words struck like a physical blow.

Internal.

A traitor.

A compromised system.

Compromised systems belong to compromised leaders.

And suddenly, I remember…

The patrol logs.

Richard.

The impossible schedule.

My wolves stirred violently.

Because now…

Now the inconsistency was no longer just a detail.

It was a reminder of a threat.

And once again,

Derrick’s earlier words echoed in my mind with unsettling clarity.

Your efforts are in vain.

My jaw tightened.

No.

Not vain.

Not yet.

But something was wrong.

And I intended to find out exactly what.