CHAPTER THREE

~Riya~

Morning light spilled through my window, warm and soft, brushing over the white curtains that danced with the breeze. For once, I wanted to wake up to quiet laughter or the sound of Father’s deep voice calling out my name. Instead, the house was too still.

I stretched and sat up, realizing the chair in front of my dressing mirror was empty, no tray of tea, no soft knock from the maids. Something was off; the castle felt tense.

“Where’s Father?” I asked as I walked into the sitting room. Mother sat near the window, her robe wrapped loosely around her shoulders, sipping tea and reading a letter with furrowed brows.

“In his study,” she said without looking up. “He’s been there since dawn.”

“Again?” I frowned, crossing my arms. “Does he ever rest? He just returned from a council meeting last night.”

Mother sighed and set her cup down. “You never know what Darkmoon is about to do. Your father cannot afford to slow down.”

Her voice was calm but weary, and I noticed the faint shadows under her eyes.

I huffed softly, leaning against the doorframe. “He could at least eat before diving into politics.”

“Why don’t you go take your bath and freshen up?” she suggested, finally giving me a small smile. “I’ll serve breakfast for both of you soon.”

“Alright, Mother.”

I retreated to my chambers, letting the maids draw my bath. Steam rose gently from the water, scented with citrus and roses. I closed my eyes, sinking into the warmth, trying to let the tension leave my body. But it didn’t. Something inside me buzzed, an unease I couldn’t name.

By the time I returned downstairs, the table was already set. The smell of roasted bread, eggs, and honeyed tea filled the air. Father sat at the head of the long table, and Mother was by his side.

“Father, good morning,” I greeted with a smile, taking my seat beside him.

He nodded curtly, sipping his tea. “Morning, Riya.”

“You look troubled,” I said softly, studying his face. “Everything is going to be fine. You already doubled the guards on the borders, remember? And you instructed the pack members to stay indoors. The enemy won’t be able to get to us.”

His eyes lifted to meet mine, calm and sharp. “No, Riya,” he whispered. “The enemy can be within us.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Within us?”

Mother looked between us as her expression faltered. “You two and your dark talk so early in the morning,” she said lightly, then began to cough. It started as a small rasp, but she quickly waved her hand. “Excuse me,” she said, rising from her seat. “I’ll just… I’ll be back.”

She disappeared down the hallway toward the restroom, her robe sweeping against the marble floor.

Father exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll understand someday,” he murmured.

“I’d rather understand now,” I said, folding my hands together.

He chuckled quietly. “You’ve always had your mother’s stubbornness.”

I smiled faintly and began eating, grateful for a rare, peaceful morning with him. We talked about pack matters, the expansion of the training grounds, the crops near the river, and the upcoming council visit. He seemed lighter for a moment, and I thought maybe, just maybe, today would be good.

Then his hand twitched.

It was small at first and barely noticeable. He coughed once, then again, and then harder. His cup rattled against the table.

“Father?” I said quickly, half-standing.

He tried to speak, but another cough tore through him. The sound grew harsh and strangled. His hand shot to his throat.

“Father!” I rushed to him, panicking.

He gasped for breath, widened his eyes, and then the cup tipped over, spilling tea across the table.

“Guards!” I screamed.

The doors burst open. Two guards rushed in, followed by Mother, her face pale with horror.

“Wintle! Wintle!” she screamed, running to him.

Father convulsed once more, a froth of foam spilling from his lips. I caught his shoulders; my hands trembled as I tried to lift him, to steady him.

“No, no, no!” I sobbed. “Someone do something!”

“Get the doctor!” one of the guards barked.

Mother knelt beside me, tears streaking down her face. “Hold on, my love, please…”

But his eyes were glazing, his body jerking violently before falling still.

“Father!” I cried, shaking him. “Please, open your eyes! Please!”

One of the guards pressed two fingers to his neck. “I can still feel a pulse!” he shouted.

“Then move!” I screamed. “Take him to the doctor now!”

They lifted him quickly, rushing through the hallways as I followed, my legs weak but refusing to stop. I could hear Mother sobbing behind me, calling his name again and again.

The corridor blurred, the walls, the light, the servants, everything became a whirl of motion and noise.

By the time we reached the infirmary, my lungs burned. They laid Father on the hospital bed while the pack doctor hurried in with his assistants.

“Poisoning,” one of them muttered. “Get the antitoxin now!”

I stood frozen, my hands covered in spilled tea, my mind refusing to understand.

Minutes turned into hours.

Every second, I watched the door, praying, begging the Goddess to let him live. Mother clung to me, whispering prayers through trembling lips.

Then, at last, the door opened.

The doctor stepped out, his face grim, his gloves stained.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “We did everything we could. The Alpha... he’s gone.”

The words didn’t make sense. They floated around me, heavy and empty, echoing in my skull.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, he can’t be. You said he had a pulse…”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor repeated. “It was food poisoning, extremely fast-acting. There was nothing more we could do.”

My world shattered.

Mother screamed, the sound came so raw, so broken that it sliced through the air. She fell to her knees, clutching the front of her gown as sobs tore through her.

I couldn’t move. My legs gave out beneath me, and I sank to the cold floor. My hands trembled violently, clutching the edge of my dress.

My chest felt hollow. My breath was gone.

He was gone.

The room spun around me. I could still see the way he smiled at me moments ago, the warmth in his eyes when he called me stubborn. The sound of his laugh echoed faintly in my ears, and then, nothing.

Mother’s cries filled the hallway, breaking what little strength I had left. I bowed my head as tears blurred my vision and my lips trembled.

My father, my Alpha, my anchor, he was gone.

If the poison came from our table, from our food, from our home…

Then Father was right.

My voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling, hollow, filled with grief and dawning dread.

“Indeed,” I breathed. “The enemy must live within.”