A TRUTH BURIED IN SHADOWS

DANE'S POV

"What's your insight about what Maya declared?" I asked finally, my voice quiet but firm. I didn't look at him, not yet; I was still weighing the weight of her revelation.

The hall had grown silent, though the echo of Maya's words still rang in my mind like a bell struck too hard.

I sat back in the stone-carved chair, staring into the dim firelight as the room slowly emptied. Only Lord Max remained, standing with one hand resting on the hilt of a small shelf, his sharp eyes following the shadows along the walls as if they whispered secrets.

He stepped forward slowly, his boots making no sound against the ancient floor. "I never believed Cara's death was a suicide." He clarified.

I nodded, tightening my fingers around the edge of the armrest. "She claims it was murder."

Lord Max didn't respond immediately. He turned toward the fire, the flames flickering across his hardened face. "Maya's not one to make claims lightly," he said. "And if she spoke those words in front of all the attendees, she means them. She's either very sure or very desperate."

"Desperate for what?" I asked, finally turning to face him.

"Truth," he said plainly, "or justice. Maybe both."

I let the silence fell again, this time heavier. If Maya was right, then everything we believed about Cara's final moments was a lie. That meant someone had crafted a false tale and fed it to the realm. Someone close enough to reach her and clever enough to cover their tracks.

Lord Max's eyes narrowed. "If Cara was murdered, it wasn't just a personal crime. It was more than that," he declared sharply. "Someone wanted her silenced, and they needed the world to believe she silenced herself, but it's difficult to believe my daughter ended her own precious life."

A chill crept down my spine. I looked up at him, searching his face for even the slightest doubt; there was none. He's the only loyalist I have among our packs; he longed for his daughter the same way I longed for her.

I stood. "Then we have to find out who."

Lord Max nodded, already reaching for his cloak. "I'll begin with the guards standard the night she died, and I'll speak to the physician who signed her death report." He said and continued. "But what about Maya?" He asked.

"He paused at the door. "Keep her close; if she's telling the truth, she's in danger, and if she's lying, then she's the most dangerous of us all."

Instead, he lingered by the fire, his face shadowed, his voice suddenly low—almost too quiet for the room. "Cara told me she was getting ready for her wedding," he said soberly, eyes distant, as though replaying her words in his mind. "The next thing I see is her death."

The flames cracked softly between us; I turned fully now, watching the weight of grief settle into his features. It was rare to see Lord Max undone, even slightly. But in this moment, he wasn't the seasoned warrior, the unshakable loyalist. He was a man mourning his only biological daughter; it's a deep pain from within.

"She was radiant," he continued, as if speaking more to himself than to me. "Nervous, yes. But happy, she had just received the final embroidery for her ceremonial dress and told me she would wear her mother's veil." His voice caught slightly. "She had plans, joyful one."

I felt the knot twist tighter in my chest. "People don't make wedding plans the day before they take their own life," I said softly, the implication growing darker by the second.

Lord Max nodded once, sharply. "Exactly."

He finally looked at me again, and this time his expression had changed. The pain was still there, but it was laced now with something colder. Purpose. Resolve.

"Do you think Maya's sudden loss of memories is another one of their schemes?" I asked to change the directives of his emotions.

Lord Max didn't answer right away; he stepped toward the high window, the pale moonlight brushing against the edge of his cloak. Then, in a voice carved with caution, he said. "It could be, or it could be the truth."

He turned to me, the sharpness in his eyes not dulled by doubt. "Maya wasn't close to Cara; if she says she doesn't remember her past, then how come she knows about Cara?" His voice was filled with doubts.

I stood and laced near the hearth, the heart unable to warm the growing cold inside me. "I'm thinking of inviting them both to Moonshine."

He didn't flinch. "It might not be a bad idea." Lord Max replied. "Keep your enemies closer; if there's a game being played, it's better we watch the board directly."

*******

I sat quietly at the far left corner of the long wooden table, the scent of roasted meat and herbs lingering in the air. Lord Thane held his usual place at the head, regal and composed, a silent reminder of the old ways. And yet, no matter where I sat, I remained the head of all wolves present at the table in truth, if not in posture.

Wolves lined both sides of the table; Kyle and Layla sat close together, their bond evident in the way they leaned slightly toward each other as they were.

Maya was beside me, her presence quieter than usual, her expression unreadable. Across from Lord Thane, Lord Ragnar, Lord Thane's vest friend, watched everyone with that same unreadable stare, his goblet barely touched.

I broke the silence with a question. "Kyle, Layla... Would you consider joining us for the journey to Moonshine?"

Kyle chewed slowly, wiped his mouth, then took a deliberate sip of his wine. Finally, he answered, his eyes flickering briefly toward Maya.

"That all depends on Queen Maya," he said smoothly.

All eyes turned to her. Maya didn't look up; her fingers brushed the rim of her goblet, and her voice came soft, almost detached. "If that's what you want, there's no problem," she said nonchalantly.

But her tone was distant, her eyes clouded. Something had shifted in her since the wedding—something heavy that hadn't lifted.