Chapter 020

For the rest of the meal, the chatter rolled around the table, voices bright, laughter a little too sharp at times. I kept my head down, eating slowly, but Maris filled the silence between us with small, easy comments that didn’t demand much from me.

Selene, of course, didn’t miss a chance to throw a glare my way, her lips curving into the kind of smile that wasn’t a smile at all. I ignored it as best I could, though a part of me wanted to slam my cup down and remind her she wasn’t the mistress of this house. But instead, I chose quiet. Quiet was safer.

Maris leaned in once, her voice lowered. “You see? That glare of hers could curdle milk.”

I almost choked on my bite, biting back a laugh. Her grin widened as if that was exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for.

By the time the servants cleared the table, I found myself oddly reluctant to leave her company. Maris stretched her arms like a cat, then turned toward me with that same mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy being locked up in a room all day,” she said lightly.

I raised a brow. “And what type am I, exactly?”

Her lips curved. “The restless type. The kind that would rather see things for herself than just hear about them.”

She was right, though I wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, I gave her a small shrug.

“Come,” Maris pressed, her tone dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Let’s walk a bit. I can show you the stables, maybe even where the men train if we’re lucky. It’s quieter there, well not exactly” she said eyeing the room of women and fakes smiles.

“But at least, no one pretending to be something they’re not.”

My instinct was to refuse, to retreat back into the safety of my room. But something about her energy, her easy confidence, tugged at me. It wasn’t forced kindness or false politeness. She simply wanted company.

“Will it be allowed?” I asked carefully.

Maris smirked. “As long as we don’t get caught where we shouldn’t be, it doesn’t matter.” She leaned in, her voice soft but teasing. “Besides, if anyone asks, I’ll say I dragged you along. They’ll believe it. I look like the troublemaker, don’t I?”

Against my better judgment, I felt a small laugh rise up in my throat. “You might.”

Her eyes brightened. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

Before I could change my mind, Maris stood and smoothed down her skirts. “Meet me by the side door in ten minutes. I’ll show you a piece of this place you won’t see from your window.”

She winked once, leaving me with a faint warmth in my chest I hadn’t expected to feel in this house.

Not sure it was up to ten minutes but I was already bouncing on my feet, waiting for her by the door. When I sorted her running down the stairs waving at me.

“Rain!” She yelled, like I was a thousand miles away, could help the smile the crossed my face.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” She smiled, taking my face in her hands and kissing hit cheeks.

“Come.” She called, pulling open the door.

The side door creaked open on its heavy hinges, spilling us into the cool morning air. Compared to the suffocating chatter of the breakfast table, the quiet outside felt like a balm. The scent of earth and pine rolled over me, and the tension in my chest loosened just a little.

Maris walked with a lightness that made me think she’d been sneaking around her whole life. She didn’t glance back to check if I followed — she simply knew I would.

The stables stood at the far end of the grounds, a long, timbered building with wide double doors thrown open. The air inside was warm, thick with hay and the musky scent of horses. Sunlight filtered through slats in the wood, cutting across the dust that drifted lazily in the air.

A few stablehands moved about quietly, but when Maris walked in, she didn’t hesitate or bow her head. She belonged here, or at least she carried herself like she did.

I trailed behind her, my hand brushing the flank of a chestnut mare that leaned curiously over her stall. The animal’s warmth seeped into my palm, grounding me.

“You know your way around here,” I murmured, my eyes trailing along the rows of stalls. “How many of these… gatherings have you been to?”

Maris turned, her braid slipping over her shoulder. “Four,” she said simply, running her hand over a sleek black stallion’s nose as if they were old friends. “And every time I swear it will be my last.”

“Four?” My voice caught with disbelief. The idea of enduring this circus more than once made my stomach twist.

She shrugged, leaning her cheek against the horse’s head, her tone light. “My father is the Alpha of my pack and he. values appearances. So he sends me and my older brother and we come, I smile when I must, and the rest of the time…” her grin sharpened, “I disappear. Wander about. Find places they’d rather I didn’t.”

I arched a brow at her. “You sneak away?”

Maris laughed softly, the sound bright against the quiet of the stables. “I prefer to think of it as reclaiming my freedom. Even if it’s only for an hour or two.”

Her words hung between us, more meaningful than she probably intended. I found myself studying her, wondering how someone so at ease in their own skin could still feel the need to escape.

“Do you ever get caught?” I asked.

“Once,” she admitted, smirking. “But I was quick enough with my tongue to talk my way out of trouble. You’ll learn, Rain, sometimes it’s better to act like you belong than to ask if you do.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was steel there too, something I couldn’t quite name.

I looked away, brushing my hand over the horse’s soft mane, letting her words sink in. Maybe she was right.

Maybe belonging was just another mask you put on until no one questioned it anymore.

We made our way towards where I’m assuming is the training grounds.

The path curved away from the stables, gravel crunching under our steps. From here, the sounds reached us first—grunts, the sharp clash of fists meeting flesh, the bark of commands.

Maris’s pace picked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Come on, you’ll want to see this.”

I wasn’t sure I did, but I followed anyway.

The training grounds stretched wide, framed by tall pines and a low wooden fence. Sand and dirt had been raked into a fighting pit, its center already alive with movement. Wolves in human form circled, some sparring, others watching. The air carried the tang of sweat and dust, sharper than the perfume-thick halls of the packhouse.

My gaze landed on them almost immediately.

Draven stood in the pit, stripped down to his waist, his skin slick with sweat that caught the morning light like oil. Every line of him was cut in stone, his shoulders wide, his movements sharp and precise as he drove Daemon back step after step.

I could feel my cheeks warm up, just by looking at him. The vivid memory of the garden burned into my view.

Daemon only grinned, blood at the corner of his mouth, as if being beaten was a game he intended to win anyway. He darted, struck, twisted, a wildness in him that matched the smirk on his face.

The sight of them made my pulse skip. I like my now dried lips.

And then, just a little further down, another pair caught my attention.

Darius.

His body moved differently than his brothers’. Controlled. Efficient. Every strike from him carried weight, the kind that didn’t waste energy, the kind that promised to break bone if he chose. His opponent was younger, wiry, his features sharp enough to resemble Maris’s.

I must’ve stared too long, because Maris leaned close, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, “That’s my brother. Corin.”

I blinked, glancing at her. “He’s fighting Darius?”

“Trying to,” she said, smiling faintly. “Corin never knows when to give up.”

The grin on her face was warm, proud, though her eyes flickered with something else, worry, maybe.

But my focus was already drifting back, pulled by some invisible thread.

Darius pivoted, the muscles in his back flexing like cords beneath his skin, the sun glancing off the sheen of sweat that traced down his spine. He moved with brutal grace, his power coiled tight in every strike.

My mouth went dry.

Beside me, Maris kept talking, her voice lilting and casual as she rattled off names, ranks, little bits of gossip about the visiting alphas and the men on the sidelines. I nodded absently, catching only half her words.

Because the other half of me, the reckless half—was caught on the sight of them. On the way Daemon’s laughter echoed sharp and wicked even as blood trickled down his chin. On Draven’s steady, relentless force. On Darius, quiet but devastating, every blow reminding me why wolves bowed when they entered a room.

The heat pooled low in my stomach before I could stop it.

I shifted my weight, trying to shake it off, but Maris’s chatter blurred into the background, her words tumbling like water over stone. Names, stories, alliances, details I should’ve memorized, but didn’t.

All I could think of was muscle and sweat and sunlight gilding skin.

And before u could gain control of myself all six pairs of eyes snapped up to me.