Chapter 15: Acquiesce

Liora

I stared at the stranger in the mirror, my chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow hitches.

Three weeks. It had been exactly twenty-one days since Kaelen dragged me out of a clinic bed and threw me into the freezing mud of the slave square.

The woman looking back at me didn't look like a slave. The Omegas of the Valrok Empire had scrubbed the grime from my skin and brushed the dullness out of my hair until it fell in thick, dark waves down my back. They had draped me in a gown of heavy, midnight-blue silk, embroidered at the bodice with the silver crest of the Lycan King. The fabric felt like a second skin, heavy and impossibly expensive, pooling around my feet on the cold basalt floor.

I looked like royalty. I looked like a Luna.

But beneath the silk, I was still broken. My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the edges of the vanity to keep myself upright.

Five days ago, the Lycan King had snapped the neck of his own Beta simply because the man had spoken out of turn to me. Since that afternoon on the training balcony, the atmosphere in the fortress had drastically shifted. The maids didn't just bow anymore; they trembled when they entered my room. The guards wouldn't even make eye contact, keeping their chins tucked to their chests whenever I passed. I had grown accustomed to the rich food, the blazing fireplaces, and the terrifying, absolute reverence of Riven's people, even though I hadn't technically been marked or crowned.

But none of that reverence was real. It was all built on a lethal illusion. And today, that illusion was going to shatter.

Behind me, sitting on the edge of the massive four-poster bed, Maren let out a low, raspy chuckle. She was gently wrapping Mael in a thick, cream-colored wool cloak, her weathered hands moving with practiced efficiency.

"I smell fear, Liora," the old healer said, not looking up from the baby. "It’s making the air in here sour. What are you so scared of?"

I turned away from the mirror, shooting her a dark look. "You know exactly what I'm scared of, Maren. Don't play dumb with me."

"Enlighten me anyway," she replied mildly, tucking the edge of the blanket under Mael’s tiny chin.

"I am about to walk into the Great Assembly Hall," I said, my voice rising in a frantic whisper. "I am about to stand in front of the High Council. The highest court in the entire werewolf continent. The Northern warlords, the Eastern Alphas, the Southern tracking elites... they are all out there right now."

I started pacing the length of the thick rug, my hands twisting into the fabric of my dress.

"And every single one of those officials has a sniffing ability five times sharper than a regular pack wolf," I continued, the panic clawing at my throat. "They track bloodlines by scent. They can smell a lie from across a courtyard. When I walk through those iron doors, they aren't going to see a Queen, Maren. They are going to smell the truth. I will reek of weakness. They will smell a dormant, defective wolf, and they will smell a human pup, and they will demand to know why their King brought trash into his sanctuary."

Maren finally looked up. Her steel-grey eyes were entirely unbothered. A small, enigmatic smile touched the corners of her lined mouth.

"I wish you the best, Liora."

I stopped pacing. I stared at her in sheer disbelief. "That's it? You don't have any words of advice for me? I am literally about to be put on trial by a room full of apex predators who drop their blood feuds just to gather for these hearings. My fate—and my son's fate—is going to be decided today. And you just say best of luck?"

Maren sighed, the sound dry as autumn leaves. She picked Mael up, cradling him expertly in the crook of her arm, and walked slowly toward me.

"I am a healer, child. I am not the Moon Goddess, and I cannot see the future," she said blandly. "Your fate is in her hands now… and perhaps a little more in the King’s. The Council will decide what the Council decides."

She stopped in front of me, holding my son out. I immediately reached for him, gathering his small, warm weight against my chest. The familiar scent of warm milk and baby powder instantly soothed the frantic pacing of my inner wolf.

"But I can tell you this for sure, Liora," Maren said, her voice dropping into a solemn, heavy register. The casual indifference was gone, replaced by something fierce and unyielding. "You are more powerful than you can ever imagine. You, and this little pup."

I frowned, looking down at Mael, then back up at the old woman.

"I can't place my finger around it," Maren continued, her gaze dropping to my abdomen where the thick bandages still wrapped tightly around my waist. "My medicinal magic cannot penetrate your aura. But I know you have the power to be truly great. How you figure it out, and when you let that power loose... that depends entirely on you."