Serena’s POV Later that night, when I sat on the edge of my bed with the photo clutched in my hands, staring at the face of the man who had abandoned me before I even existed, I couldn’t decide what I felt anger for what he never gave me, grief for what I would never know, or hunger for a connection that maybe was never truly there. His features looked sharp but not unkind, his eyes steady but not cold, and his mouth almost almost like mine, though I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I was forcing the similarity because I wanted it too badly. I didn’t hear the door open, but I felt itthe shift in the air, the weight of his aura filling the room before the man himself appeared. My grip on the photograph tightened, and slowly, I lifted my gaze. Kael. He stood in the doorway, tall and broad in black, his presence cutting through silence with that unbearable gravity he always carried, his eyes finding the picture before they found me. He didn’t speak for a long moment, only watch
Serena’s POV “Who is he?” The question slipped out quieter than I intended, but the weight behind it was heavier than anything else in the room, and once it hung in the air, there was no pulling it back. Ma froze at the table where she was folding Ari’s shirts, her hands stilled mid-motion as if the fabric itself had stopped her. She didn’t answer, didn’t look at me, just kept her eyes fixed on the soft cotton in her lap as though silence could erase the truth waiting in my words. “I asked you a question,” I pressed, moving closer to her, my voice sharper now though still trembling at the edges. “Who is my father?” Still nothing, only the sound of the clock on the wall ticking far too loud. “Tell me. We have avoided this topic for ages and its height time we talked about it” At last, she set the shirt aside, smoothed her hands down on her lap, and sat with her back straight. The late sun cut across the room, striking the silver threads in her hair until it looked like
Serena’s POV Mirah’s perfume reached me before her voice did, cloying and over-sweet, as if someone had poured syrup over something already spoiling, trying to mask the rot instead of cleaning it. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” I didn’t turn toward her because I didn’t need to. Only one woman in Moonclaw knew how to smile as if it were a blade, and I recognized her presence before her words even finished echoing. Mirah. She stepped into place beside me on the stone path as though we were two old friends taking air together, but every movement of hers carried the calculation of a performance. Her heels clicked gently with each step, her dress pressed so perfectly it seemed ironed into her skin, the color of it deliberately chosen a white too deliberate, too practiced, too planned. She looked like peace, but she carried war in her hands, and I knew it before she even opened her mouth again. I chose silence, because silence was the one thing she couldn’t twist into somet
Serena’s POV Mirah’s perfume hit before her voice did. Too sweet. Like syrup poured over something rotting. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. Only one person at Moonclaw knew how to wear a smile like a weapon. Mirah. She stepped beside me on the path like we were two old friends out for air. Her heels clicked softly on the stones, her dress too white, too pressed, too planned. She looked like peace. She always did when she came with war. I stayed quiet. Silence was all I had left that couldn’t be twisted. But she came for a reaction. She always did. “You’re still here,” she said again, slower this time. “Living under my roof. Drinking water from my taps. Sleeping in my husband’s home.” I turned to her. Calm. Controlled. “Not your husband,” I said. Her smile stretched. “Paper, bond, oath… crown. That makes him mine. Everything else is just fantasy.” She brushed an invisible thread from her sleeve, like my presence offended the
Serena’s POV The courtyard was quiet that night. The sky was clear, and the moon hung low, glowing over the tall trees around the estate. I stood near the fountain, hugging myself, trying to keep my thoughts from tearing me apart. I didn’t want to cry again. Not after today. Not after everything I heard in that meeting room. They had talked like I didn’t matter. Like Ari didn’t matter. Mirah’s voice still echoed in my head: “I’m pregnant.” Those words hit harder than I thought they would. Not because I wanted Kael back. But because I finally saw her for who she really was someone who knew how to play this game, who could pretend to be kind while planning something else underneath. The meeting had been awful. The elders called my son a threat to tradition. Said he could never be heir. Said I had no place here. It was clear someone had planted this meeting. And I had a pretty good guess who. I took a slow breath and let it out. My hands were cold. My chest hurt. I just wan
Kael pushed the study door open and stepped inside. The early light was dim. Papers lay on the desk. Silence filled the room. Mirah sat behind the desk, calm. She looked at him without rising. He pulled the door shut. The click sounded loud. He stood there a moment, gathering his thought. Finally, he said, “Mirah. We need to talk.” Mirah lifted her eyebrow. She did not look surprised. “Very well then , I have been expecting this conversation “ He stepped closer. He spoke in a low voice, firm. “your announcement at the council meeting. You did not tell me first and I want to know why” Mirah did not flinch. She folded her hands. “You are my husband. I did not think it necessary.” Kael’s voice grew sharper. “You just said I am your husband and bonded mate. I should have known before anyone else.” Mirah’s eyes held his. “I did not believe you were ready. You were distracted.” “Distracted? With what? Kael flinched “Distracted with attending to your son and hi