The cost of a split heart.

Winter's POV

Neither of us spoke for a while.

The tray of food sat untouched between us, its warmth slowly giving way to the cool night air drifting through the open window. Somewhere outside, crickets sang beneath the moonlight, their steady chorus filling the silence neither of us seemed eager to break.

Sabrina was the first to move.

She reached for the bowl of soup, took a careful spoonful, then frowned.

"It needs more salt."

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the mundane complaint. "That's your conclusion?"

She looked at me over the rim of the bowl, her sharp gaze cutting through the dim lamplight. "My conclusion is that if I'm going to contemplate the possible collapse of diplomatic relations between two kingdoms, I'd rather not do it over bland soup."

Despite everything, a genuine laugh escaped me, cracking the icy wall of anxiety that had been building in my chest all evening.

"There she is," I murmured.

"There who is?"

"Sabrina."

She smiled faintly, the tight lines around her eyes easing just a fraction. "The Gamma had a brief moment."

"A brief moment?" I challenged gently, leaning forward. "You called the situation a potential succession crisis."

"I stand by that," she countered, though the edge was gone from her voice, replaced by the familiar, dry cadence I knew so well. "A true Gamma must always calculate the worst-case scenario. It’s practically in the job description."

Another laugh escaped me, quieter this time. The knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe, the phantom weight of the crown feeling a little less suffocating.

Sabrina noticed the shift instantly. "I frightened you."

It wasn't a question.

I lowered my eyes to my hands, tracing absent-minded circles along the edge of the polished wooden tray, unable to meet her perceptive gaze. "A little."

She sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to drain the remaining tension from her posture. "I'm sorry."

The apology caught me entirely off guard. I looked up, searching her face. "You don't have to apologize. You're just doing your job, trying to keep us all alive."

"I do," she insisted. She rested the bowl back on the table with deliberate care, ensuring it didn't clatter.

"You came here because you were worried about me. You saw the smoke, you heard the rumors, and you ran toward the danger just to make sure I was breathing."

Her fingers brushed the edge of the white bandage wrapped tightly around her shoulder. "And instead of thanking you for bringing me dinner, I started calculating how many civil wars your love life could accidentally start."

"...When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous," she leaned back against the plush pillows, closing her eyes for a brief second. "And unfortunately, it's also true. The world we live in doesn't allow for simple heartbreaks, Winter. It turns personal choices into political ammunition."

The fleeting smile faded from both our faces, the reality of our situation crashing back into the room. For a few moments, all either of us could hear was the crackle of the hearth fire, casting dancing shadows against the stone walls.

Finally, Sabrina looked at me again, her expression shifting from tactical strategist to trusted friend. "I'm done speaking as Gamma."

I raised an eyebrow, testing the waters. "Officially?"

"Officially. This can happen at another time. While I've had the time to think about it properly and profer some type of solution that doesn't involve us mobilizing an army."

I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air clear my head.

"And unofficially?"

She pointed a silver spoon at me, a playful spark returning to her eyes. "Unofficially, I'm still judging your taste in soup."

I rolled my eyes, a wave of relief washing over me. "I didn't make it."

"I know." She tasted another spoonful, swirling it thoughtfully. "I'm judging the chef."

I laughed again, and this time it felt easier.

Sabrina smiled with quiet satisfaction. "There."

"What?"

"I was beginning to miss that."

I frowned, slightly confused. "My laughter?"

"You."

Oh.

The single word settled somewhere deep inside my chest, warm and aching all at once. I hadn't realized how badly I needed someone to separate me from the impossible situation surrounding me. To see past the storm of prophecies and politics. To see me... not the ancient relic, not the future queen, not Derrick's intended, not Keon's fated soulmate.

Just... me. Winter.

Sabrina must have noticed something shift across my face, maybe the sudden brightness in my eyes or the way my shoulders dropped, because her own expression softened.

"You've been carrying this alone."

I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. "I thought I had to. I thought showing weakness would make everything fall apart faster."

"You don't," she said. The absolute certainty in her voice nearly undid me, stripping away the armor I had painstakingly built over the last few weeks.

For several seconds I couldn't trust myself to speak, terrified my voice would break. When I finally managed it, the words slipped out, smaller and more fragile than I intended. "I don't regret him, you know."

Sabrina didn't interrupt. She simply listened, giving me the space I hadn't realized I was suffocating without.

"I regret..." I paused, searching for words that refused to come easily, trying to untangle the knotted mess of my emotions. "I regret what it did. The fallout. The lies."

She nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "I thought that might be the answer."

"I keep waiting to wake up and wish it hadn't happened," I confessed, looking at my lap. "I wait for the guilt to override the memory, to make me wish I could erase that night entirely."

"But you don't."

"No." The admission hung between us, heavy and unyielding, but saying it aloud felt like shedding a physical weight. "I wish people hadn't been hurt. I wish things were different. I wish the Moon Goddess had chosen literally anyone else to carry this burden."

A weak, smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "But when I think about him... about the way he looks at me, the way he understands the parts of me I can't even voice..." I closed my eyes, visualizing his face in the dark. "I can't make myself call it a mistake."

When I opened them again, Sabrina wasn't looking surprised or judgmental. She looked... sad. Not disappointed in my character, but deeply, genuinely sad for the impossible hand I had been dealt.

"That's what makes this so unfair," she said softly. She set the empty spoon inside the ceramic bowl before folding her hands tightly in her lap. "Because if this were simple, if you hated one of them, or if one of them was a monster, one of those answers would have been easy. You could make a choice and live with the anger of the other side." She held my gaze, forcing me to see the truth in her words. "But it isn't simple. And neither of them are easy options."

Sabrina let the silence settle between us for a while, giving the heavy admission room to breathe. It wasn't uncomfortable; it felt necessary. Some conversations needed space to settle before you could move past them.

To break the gravity of the moment, she reached for the dessert plate this time, lifting an eyebrow the moment she took the first bite of the berry tart. "The Head Chef is definitely bribing me."

I smiled, glad for the pivot. "I think she's apologizing for the soup."

She pointed her spoon at me again. "Don't encourage her."

"I wasn't aware I had that much influence in the kitchens."

"You don't." She took another bite, savoring the sweetness, before adding, "But if she finds out you agree with me about the salt, I'll never hear the end of it. She's incredibly sensitive about her broths."

A quiet laugh escaped me. For the first time since I'd entered the room, it felt less like I was sitting with the formidable Gamma of the Stonefield Pack and more like I was just sitting with Sabrina. Just my friend.

She noticed the change too, leaning back against the headboard. "I prefer this version of us," she admitted.

"The one where we're arguing over palace food instead of discussing constitutional disasters and treaty violations."

"I don't think I know enough about constitutions to discuss one anyway," I admitted, pulling my legs up onto the chair.

" And yet you've grasped so much in such a short time."

I tilted my head, looking at her sideways. "Is that a compliment?"

"It means you've developed a worrying habit of ending up in the exact middle of history's plot twists."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I'd really rather not. I want to be a footnote. A tiny, uninteresting footnote."

"I believe you," she said, her voice softening as her expression turned serious once more. "Winter..."

The sudden shift in her tone made me look up, my posture tensing slightly.

"You said you don't regret Keon."

I nodded slowly, my heart rate picking up a beat.

"And you regret hurting Derrick."

"...Yes. More than I can say."

She studied me, her gaze analytical but devoid of any malice, trying to arrange thoughts she hadn't expected to confront tonight. "You know what I've been wondering since you walked in here?"

"What?"

"When did this stop being about choosing a husband?"

I frowned, genuinely perplexed by the question. "I don't understand. That's exactly what the Council is forcing me to do."

"I don't think this has been about a marriage contract for a very long time," she gestured vaguely between us, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as she articulated her thoughts. "You're trying so hard to choose correctly, to find the perfect diplomatic answer, that you've forgotten something fundamental about the men involved."

"What have I forgotten?"

"They're not waiting for you to choose because they want to win a political prize, Winter. They aren't treating you like a trophy to be claimed."

I blinked, the words striking a chord deep within me.

Sabrina continued before I could find my voice to interrupt or defend them.

"Think about it logically." She held up one finger. "Keon has spent weeks risking his own standing, trying to protect you from the high-level investigation, shielding you from the Council's wrath, and keeping your own worst fears from consuming you."

A second finger joined the first, her voice dropping as she laid out the pieces of the puzzle. "And if my logic is correct, the only sane reason this palace isn't currently torn to shreds is because Derrick walked into this place, noticed something was entirely wrong, found out about the attack, and actively justified your smelling of another wolf as something bred out of protection. What are the odds?"

She exhaled a long, ragged breath, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "Man... this is fucked up."