26. HAPPY TO BURN

RAVEN

The tension in the pack hung like a storm cloud that refused to burst. Everyone was jittery, every shadow was suspicious, and every creak in the night had us snapping our heads around like hunted prey. After the scare with Lucian and his rogues, the entire compound seemed to breathe differently, sharper, shallower, like the whole place had developed lungs of its own, ones that couldn’t seem to exhale fully.

I had just stepped out of the training grounds, my boots still caked with dust, when I heard it. A pair of omegas huddled near the southern corridor, whispering with the kind of energy that said they shouldn't be talking, but couldn't help themselves.

“Did you hear? The Moonlight Ball’s off,” one of them said, wide-eyed and whispering fast.

“Alpha Kieran’s postponed it.”

“Postponed?” the other gasped, clutching her shawl closer. “Indefinitely?”

A nod. “No one knows when it'll be held now. Maybe not at all.”

I didn’t say anything. Just walked past them slowly, pretending not to have heard, but my heart thudded hard against my ribs. Of course he postponed it.

My lips twitched upward, faint and tight.

Kieran always played his cards like a coward dressed in silk, big declarations for show, but pulled back at the first scent of threat. And Lucian? He was no mere scent. He was blood in the water. He was a declaration of war.

Of course the ball was off. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity. All of us gathered under one roof, music too loud, wine too sweet, masks hiding more than just faces. An invitation to spill blood in luxury.

I stepped into the shadow of the eastern wing, wanting silence, needing air.

That was when I felt a pull on my sleeve.

“Raven.” The voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the sound of leaves brushing the windows.

“Come with me.”

Rowena’s face was partially hidden under her cloak, her eyes darting like she feared she’d already been seen. I didn’t ask questions. Just followed.

We ducked into the darkened hallway near the old council chambers. No one came here anymore. The dust on the ground proved that.

She didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“I saw him,” she said, voice barely more than breath. “Lucian.”

I stiffened, but didn’t interrupt.

“I snuck out the night before the rogues hit the western border. I had to see him.” Her throat bobbed, and for a second, I almost reached out, but I didn’t.

“He was waiting, Raven. He knew I’d come.”

I crossed my arms. “What did he say?”

She looked up then, and for the first time, I saw the fear behind her loyalty. “The ball. He wanted it to happen. He was counting on it. But when he heard it was called off... he didn’t even blink. Said this—this shift in plans? It was all still part of it. That the ball being cancelled would only make Kieran scramble, show his cards early. He said, ‘Fear is the best host. It opens all the doors you didn’t even know you had locked.’”

I let her words sink in like poison dripped slowly on skin.

“You believe him?”

“I do,” she said, quickly. Too quickly. “Because he told me something else. The first move is already in motion. He didn’t say what. Just that Kieran wouldn’t see it coming.”

I smiled then.

Not a big one. Not the kind you show when you're happy. This was the kind that sits on your face like a secret—a cruel one. I tilted my head back, the low light catching the edge of my jaw.

“Good,” I murmured. “It’s time someone took that bastard down.”

Rowena looked startled. “You’re not... scared?”

I turned to her, stepping closer until there was barely any space between us. My voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m done being scared. Kieran has ruled with polished lies and a trembling grip for too long. If Lucian wants to burn it all down?” I leaned in closer.

“Then I’ll hand him the match.”

She stared at me like she didn’t know who I was anymore.

But I knew.

I was Raven. And I’d just seen the beginning of the end.

I knocked once before pushing Selene’s door open, the tray of delicately arranged pastries balanced in one hand.

“Hope you’re hungry,” I murmured with a smile, stepping inside and letting the door click shut behind me. The scent of wildberries and warm sugar floated up from the small stack of shortbread cookies and honey-glazed puff pastries, each one carefully laced with just enough wolfsbane to start dulling her senses, bite by bite.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, her silver-blonde hair spilling like melted moonlight across her shoulders, eyes darting to the tray with an eagerness that made me want to laugh.

“Raven,” she beamed, voice light, naive. “You didn’t have to—oh my goddess, they smell amazing!”

I crossed the room slowly, letting my lips curl into that soft, practiced grin. “I know how you’ve been cooped up. Thought you deserved something sweet.” I placed the tray down beside her and sat at the edge of the bed, watching closely as she picked up one of the flaky pastries and bit into it without a second’s hesitation. Idiot.

“Mmm—this is divine.” She spoke around a mouthful, already reaching for another. “Where did you get these?”

“Oh, you know,” I waved, watching her closely. “A friend owed me a favor.”

She blinked at me, chewing thoughtfully. “You always come through.”

My gaze lingered on her face, the way the flush in her cheeks seemed to brighten. It was working. Not quickly enough to cause alarm, just slowly enough to sink into her bloodstream like a whisper.

“You’re looking better,” I said softly, brushing an invisible strand of hair from her shoulder.

“More color in your face. There’s light in you again.”

She flushed at the compliment, smiling like a child who didn’t know she was walking into a den of wolves.

“Thank you… I actually feel better. I mean, I’ve been so stressed lately. With everything going on—”

“You mean with your brother?” I prompted, watching her closely.

She sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Kieran’s being impossible. He’s postponed the Moon Ball. Indefinitely.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s unlike him.”

“Right?” She frowned, reaching for another cookie. “I mean, yes, Lucian’s threat was... intense, but it’s Lucian. He always postures. He’s not actually going to attack a neutral event.”

I didn’t answer immediately, letting her words hang in the air. Her fingers brushed crumbs off her lap and she took another bite, entirely unaware of what she was really swallowing. I smiled gently, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh.

“You think Lucian’s just posturing?” I asked, my voice mild.

She looked at me, puzzled by my tone but too distracted by the sugar and false sense of safety to question it. “Yeah. I mean—Kieran overreacted. He’s letting fear dictate our politics. That’s never been his way, and honestly? It makes him look weak.”

I tilted my head slowly, feigning interest, even as something dark flickered behind my eyes. “You don’t think Lucian’s dangerous?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think he likes people to think he is. But no. He’s just a drama-obsessed prince with a need to feel powerful. He wants attention, not war.”

My fingers curled tightly in my lap. It took everything in me not to scoff in her face. How could someone so privileged, so coddled, be so monumentally stupid?

“He’s not one to be trifled with,” I said finally, letting my voice drop a note lower. “You of all people should know that.”

Selene gave me a half-smile, distracted, popping another shortbread into her mouth. “He’s always bluffing. He talks big, but nothing’s ever come of it.”

I stared at her. She didn’t even taste the poison. Not in the food, not in the room, not in my voice.

No ounce of pity bloomed in me. Not even a flicker.

She kept eating. And I kept smiling.