Chapter 5 — Florian’s POV

“Why were you really at the gates?”

Ronan’s voice hit me like claws scraping stone, low and dangerous. His wolf pressed forward, energy sharp and hot. I kept my hands loose at my sides, shoulders relaxed, not giving him the fight he wanted.

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” My tone stayed calm, almost lazy.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He stepped closer, fury rolling off him.

“You’re Navy’s intended mate now. Don’t forget your place!”

There it was. The jealousy. The way he hid it behind duty. I folded my arms, a smirk tugging at my mouth.

“Interesting concern. You’re quick to defend the sister you humiliated a moment ago.”

His jaw locked, teeth grinding.

“Don’t twist this,” he snapped.

“Appearances matter to you,” I said, letting each word drag. “But your sister Natille looked untouched by your little offerings. Those pastries. The stones. She barely glanced at them.”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes narrowed. Finch bristled under his skin.

“She couldn’t stand their scent.”

That landed. His wolf flared, golden hues shifting in his eyes.

“You—”

I cut in, voice flat. “The stones blessed by the Alpha King’s shamans. Planning to give her those for the burns?”

His fists curled, chest heaving. “She needs them.”

“Too bad I don’t have any.”

Suspicion flashed in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

I slipped a pouch from my coat, untied it slow. Bitter herbs rose into the air.

“No stones. Wolfsbane antidote. Won’t heal her scars, but it’ll stop the venom spreading.”

Silence hung. He stared at the pouch, then back at me. His pride fought his fear.

“Leave it,” he finally spat.

I tossed it onto a stone bench. “Of course.”

He bristled, wolf snapping at the edges.

“Don’t make this a habit, Silvia.”

I paused, looking back with a thin smile. “I’m not the one who needs discipline.” Then I walked off.

Once out of sight, I pulled my comm stone, pressed it to my palm.

“Adrian.”

“Alpha?”

“Gather the herbs. Old remedies. Natille’s burns need them.”

“Understood.”

The stone dimmed. Otis stirred inside me, restless. His growl matched the image stuck in my mind—her arms scarred, her refusal to lean on anyone. The ache in my chest didn’t fade.

Natille’s POV

“This should’ve killed you, My Lady.”

Nena’s voice trembled as she spread cool salve across my burns. My jaw stayed locked, my gaze fixed on the withered roses outside the window.

“Stop crying,” I muttered.

Her hand faltered but she kept working, lips pressed tight. The room filled with the faint scent of herbs, the sting biting deeper into my skin.

A knock broke the silence. Nena opened the door, then returned with a bundle and a small bottle. Ronan’s scent clung to the bundle. The bottle reeked of dried herbs and wolfsbane.

“Set them down,” I said.

She obeyed, hands careful, eyes flicking to me for permission.

I stared at the remedies. My fingers twitched, memory burning in my arms.

A laugh slipped out, hollow. “Take them.”

Nena froze. “My Lady?”

“You heard me.”

She hesitated. My wolf stirred faintly, weak. I ignored it.

I didn’t want their gifts. They weren’t healing. They were excuses. Guilt wrapped in herbs and stones.

Not from Ronan. Not from Florian.

Nena lowered her head. The remedies stayed on the table.

“Stay seated, please. You don’t need to get up for me.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My voice trembled in the quiet chamber, cutting across the faint ticking of the old clock on the wall.

Nelda froze halfway upright. My grandmother’s hands, frail but still steady, dropped back to the arms of her chair. The fire at the corner of the room burned low, shadows dancing across her golden eyes. She pulled the shawl tighter around her thin shoulders.

“Natille,” she whispered.

The sound broke something in me. I crossed the room and dropped to my knees before I thought better of it. Her hand found mine, cool and fragile, yet stronger than I remembered. She brushed her thumb over the scar that ran along my arm.

“My little one. What did they do to you?”

My throat tightened. The words I wanted stuck like thorns. I forced out the lie anyway. “I’m fine.”

Her grip closed with surprising force. “No, you’re not.”

The silence stretched, filled only by the weak hiss of the fire and her strained breathing. I wanted to look away, but she held my gaze with that same quiet authority she had always carried, even now, diminished by sickness.

“I fought for you,” she said, her voice cracking. “The Alpha King’s council called me a fool. They said you weren’t worth it. But I fought. I lost almost everything, but I didn’t care. You’re mine, Natille. Always mine.”

The ache in my chest grew heavier. I nodded, unable to trust my voice. Her words wrapped around me like a shield, one I hadn’t felt in years. For a moment, I let myself breathe.

The moment shattered when the door opened.

Nicole entered, posture perfect as always, her green eyes darting quickly over the room. Navy followed close behind, auburn hair spilling over her shoulders, her every step practiced softness.

“Good morning, Mother,” Nicole said smoothly. Her glance brushed past me, sharp and dismissive. Navy smiled sweetly, too sweet, like honey masking poison.

“Grandmother, I hope we’re not intruding.”

Nelda didn’t loosen her hold on my hand. “What brings you here at this hour, Nicole?”

Navy lingered near the fire, pretending innocence. Nicole’s smile thinned before she spoke. “We came to discuss Navy’s mating ceremony.”

My stomach twisted, though I kept my face still.

“Florian and Navy are a perfect match,” Nicole went on, her tone forced-light. “We would be honored to have your blessing.”

Nelda’s golden eyes sharpened. Her lips twitched downward before she turned to me. “Natille. Does your wolf still recognize him as mate?”

The air froze. Navy’s hand knotted her dress. Nicole stiffened, tension rolling off her.

“No,” I said. The word cut through the silence, sharp and final. I met Nelda’s gaze, my voice steady even as my wolf stirred uneasily. “That bond was broken long against "