Chapter 10: Poisoned Welcome

POV: GUINE

Two letters arrived on the same morning. One offered a warning. The other offered a collar.

The cold dawn light had barely crept over the sharp stone peaks of Eclipse Hollow when Mrs. Ashcombe entered my study, carrying a polished silver tray. On it rested two sealed envelopes. I sat at my mahogany writing desk, surrounded by open ledgers, maps, and supply inventories, pulling my thick velvet shawl tightly around my shoulders against the morning chill.

"Riders arrived before sunrise, Lady Guine," Mrs. Ashcombe said softly, setting the tray beside my tea porcelain. Her hands trembled slightly, her eyes darting between the two distinct wax seals. "Neither rider waited for a reply."

I looked down at the desk.

The first letter was bound in heavy, textured cream parchment, sealed with black wax stamped with an intricate, formidable crest, a silver raven coiled around a broadsword.

The second letter was wrapped in smooth, pale pink vellum, smelling faintly of sweet jasmine and elderflower. It was sealed with a gilded serpent wrapped around a blooming white rose.

Percival Wynthrone and Morgause Wren.

I picked up Percival’s letter first, breaking the heavy black wax. His handwriting was dark, sharp, and precise, written with the firm hand of a military commander who wasted no words on pleasantries.

Lady Guine Ravenshade,

Word has reached my garrison that an heir has claimed the seat of Eclipse Hollow. My forward patrols have discovered several dead beasts along our shared northern boundary, animals left without physical wounds, their eyes turned to silver ash. Something ancient is stirring beneath the mountain soil.

Stay clear of the northern woodland after sunset. Sovereign rights will not protect you from what wanders in the dark.

— Alpha Percival Wynthrone

I stared at the black ink, feeling the quiet weight behind his words. It was not an order, nor was it an attempt to usurp my authority. It was a cold, clinical warning from a powerful neighbor who recognized that the ground beneath our feet was changing. The silver ash... it sounded chillingly similar to the early signs of the Moonfall I had witnessed in my first life. The fifty-day countdown was ticking faster than I cared to admit.

I set Percival’s letter aside and picked up the pink vellum envelope.

Breaking the gilded rose seal, I unfolded the parchment. Morgause's handwriting was delicate, full of dramatic swoops and elegant loops, but the sweetness of the ink could not hide the venom dripping from every sentence.

My Dear Guine,

I hope the rugged air of the mountains has given you time to reflect upon the tragic scene you caused before the pack elders. We were all so deeply grieved by your sudden departure.

Kael is a noble, forgiving Alpha, Guine. Despite your hysterical public rejection, he remains willing to overlook your foolishness and welcome you back into the household, provided, of course, that you show proper humility and acknowledge your place. Furthermore, to prove your devotion to our family's future, you must immediately transfer three-quarters of the Ravenshade estate gold into a trust for little Sefa. It is only right that the child’s inheritance be secured before you squander it on neglected stones.

A woman without a pack is a vulnerable, helpless thing in these dangerous times. Do not let your pride destroy you. Return home, apologize to Kael, and let us put this unpleasant business behind us.

— Morgause Wren

A bitter, chilling laugh escaped my lips.

She called my rejection "hysterical." She demanded three-quarters of my ancestral gold under the guise of securing Sefa's future, while subtly threatening me with the isolation of a packless wolf. She truly believed that a few condescending words and a gilded promise of Kael’s conditional forgiveness would bring me weeping to her knees.

In my first life, a letter like this would have filled me with suffocating guilt. I would have spent hours agonizing over Sefa’s future, worrying if I was truly being selfish, wondering if I had failed as a woman and a mate. I would have questioned my own sanity and handed over my key to keep the peace.

Now, looking at her swooping calligraphy, I felt no guilt. I felt no doubt.

I felt only the sharp, blinding clarity of absolute hatred.

Morgause did not want peace. She did not care about Sefa’s trust fund, nor did she care about bringing unity to the pack. She wanted me small again. She wanted me stripped of my wealth, stripped of my title, and locked back in the shadows where I couldn't threaten her position as Kael’s favored mate. She wanted a broken servant she could rule over.

I stood up from my desk, carrying the pink letter over to the grand stone fireplace.

I tossed the parchment directly into the roaring flames.

The pink vellum curled, blackened, and ignited, the sweet jasmine scent burning away into harsh smoke as the fire devoured her arrogant words. I watched it burn with cold, unwavering eyes, feeling the dark mark on my wrist pulse with a low, satisfying warmth.

Let her send her threats. Let Kael await my apology. They had no idea that the woman they tried to break had already buried her grief, and built a fortress in its place.

I turned back to my desk, picking up my quill to begin writing a formal response to Alpha Percival Wynthrone regarding the northern border patrols.

Behind me, the flames in the hearth flickered down to glowing embers.

I happened to glance back toward the fireplace. The letter had been almost entirely reduced to gray ash, but resting on a half-burnt ember at the very bottom of the hearth, a single strip of thick parchment had resisted the fire.

Written in dark, unburnt ink, one final line remained glaringly visible through the embers:

“You cannot protect what you do not deserve.”