THE COST OF CHOOSING

CHAPTER 41

Roman's victory didn't feel like one.

By morning, half the household staff wouldn't meet my eyes, three allied packs had sent formal inquiries about the stability of Blackthorn, and the servants seemed to have decided that speaking to me required more courage than they possessed.

I'd wanted Roman to choose me publicly.

I hadn't understood how quickly that choice would change the way people looked at me.

"Good morning, Miss Vale."

The maid placed my breakfast tray on the table without looking up.

"It's Mira," I reminded her. "You've always called me Mira."

"Of course, Miss."

She straightened the napkin, though it didn't need straightening.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked. "Or has everyone decided I'm dangerous to talk to?"

Her hands twisted in her apron.

"People are worried."

"About what?"

"The council. What it means for the pack." Her voice dropped. "Three packs have written. The steward has been awake all night dealing with the correspondence."

"Written about what?"

"I shouldn't"

"Miss Vale."

A footman appeared in the doorway, stiff-backed and formal.

"The Alpha requests your presence in his study."

The maid seized the opportunity to escape.

I watched her go, then looked down at the untouched breakfast.

So much for a quiet morning.

Roman sat behind his desk, surrounded by documents. A stack of sealed letters leaned against his inkwell, and several more lay open beside a ledger.

He looked as though he hadn't slept.

"You're up early," he said without looking up.

"How many?"

His pen stopped.

"How many what?"

"Packs. How many have contacted you?"

"A few."

"How many is a few?"

"Mira"

"Three allied packs, according to your staff. The servants won't look at me, and your steward has apparently been awake all night. Don't tell me it's nothing."

Roman set down his pen.

"They're reacting to the council vote. It's routine. When an Alpha's authority is challenged, neighboring leaders check the stability of their alliances."

"Routine."

"Yes."

"Then why did you close that drawer when I came in?"

His eyes flicked toward the desk.

Then back to me.

"Yesterday, you stood before the entire council and said you wouldn't choose between your authority and me. You told them you were willing to accept the consequences." I stepped closer. "But this morning, you're treating me like I can't be trusted with those consequences."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"By hiding things?"

"By not handing you problems you can't fix."

The words landed harder than he seemed to expect.

I stared at him.

"Do you hear yourself?"

His expression tightened.

"You promised me something, Roman. Three days ago, you asked me not to hide things from you because I was afraid of your reaction. You said you wanted to prove you could handle the truth."

"I remember."

"Then don't make that promise something you only expect me to keep."

He flinched.

"No," he said quietly. "I won't."

"Then tell me what's happening."

For several seconds, he said nothing. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and exhaled.

"Three packs have submitted formal inquiries. Two want assurances that the dispute within the council won't destabilize our alliances. The third has questioned whether my relationship with you creates a conflict of interest."

My stomach tightened.

"A conflict of interest."

"Yes."

"Meaning me."

"Meaning the arrangement and my position as Alpha."

"Roman, they're discussing me like I'm a liability."

"They're questioning whether the circumstances surrounding the surrogate arrangement could affect my decisions."

"That's a very polished way of saying the same thing."

He didn't argue.

I folded my arms.

"Could this cost you anything?"

"Potentially."

"Trade agreements? Patrol support?"

"Those are among the concerns."

"How much?"

"If the situation escalates, some agreements could become difficult to maintain."

I looked at the letters scattered across his desk.

"That's not a few routine inquiries."

"No," he admitted. "It isn't."

"What else aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

I stared at him.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Deciding which parts of my life I'm allowed to know about."

"That isn't what I'm trying to do."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

His jaw tightened.

"I can carry this. That's all. These are my responsibilities."

"I never asked you to carry me."

The words came out sharper than I intended.

He went still.

"I asked you to stand beside me," I continued. "You chose me in public. That means I'm part of this now. I'm not going to apologize for existing, and I'm not going to pretend I would have been safer if you'd denied what we are."

I moved closer to his desk.

"But I'm not going to sit quietly while you make every decision about my future without me, either."

Roman looked down at his hands.

For a moment, he seemed to be searching for an answer that wouldn't sound like another excuse.

"I know how to protect people by taking everything onto myself," he said at last. "I've done it for years. I don't know how to let someone else share the weight without feeling as though I'm failing them."

"Then learn."

His eyes lifted to mine.

"With me," I added. "Not for me. With me."

His expression changed, though the uncertainty remained.

"It won't be easy."

"I'm not asking for easy."

I held out my hand.

"Show me all of it."

He looked at my palm for a long moment.

Then, with visible effort, he opened the drawer he'd closed when I entered and removed a cream-colored envelope. The seal had already been broken.

"Why this one?" I asked.

"Because I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

"Roman."

He handed it to me.

I unfolded the letter.

We request clarification regarding unconfirmed reports concerning the surrogate's nature and the possible reemergence of a bloodline believed absent from the territories.

I read it again.

Then a third time.

The room seemed to lose its warmth.

"My nature," I whispered.

Roman watched my face.

"It's deliberately vague."

"No, it isn't."

I looked up.

"Reemergence of a bloodline. That's not gossip about our relationship. That's something else."

"Yes."

"Someone outside this house knows."

"Someone suspects something. Or someone wants us to believe they do."

"Which is it?"

"I don't know."

I hated that answer.

I hated it even more because I knew he wasn't lying.

"Could it be Kase?"

"The letter didn't come from his territory."

"That doesn't mean he isn't involved."

"No. It doesn't."

I searched his face.

"Who else knows enough to ask about a bloodline that supposedly disappeared?"

"I don't know yet."

"Then we'll find out."

He held my gaze.

"Yes," he said. "We will."

The difference was small, but I heard it.

He hadn't said he would find out and tell me later.

He'd said we.

A knock interrupted us.

A guard stood in the doorway, breathing hard enough to suggest he'd hurried through the east wing.

"Alpha. An envoy has arrived from the Ashfell alliance. He requests a private audience."

Roman's expression hardened.

"We have no scheduled visit."

"He insists the matter is urgent. He wouldn't explain it to the junior staff. He said it concerns recent developments that cannot safely be discussed in public."

Roman glanced at the letters on his desk.

Then at me.

"The timing is too precise," I said.

"I know."

He rose.

"I'll hear him alone."

"No."

"Mira"

"If this is about me, I'm not being discussed in a room I'm not allowed to enter."

"I don't know what he's bringing."

"Neither do you. That's exactly why I should hear it."

His jaw worked.

I could almost see the old instinct fighting its way to the surface: put Mira somewhere safe, close the doors, and deal with the danger himself.

Then he looked at me.

"You stay close," he said. "You don't make assumptions before he's finished speaking. And if anything feels wrong, we leave together."

"Agreed."

"And if I ask you to let me answer a question, you let me."

"Provided you don't use that as an excuse to answer every question for me."

A faint, unwilling smile touched his mouth.

"Agreed."

He nodded once.

Something in his shoulders eased, and I realized he was learning to let me stand beside him one difficult decision at a time.

The envoy was a slender man dressed in gray, with silver stitching along his cuffs and an expression so carefully neutral that it made me distrust him immediately.

He bowed to Roman, then to me.

"Alpha Draven. Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."

"You've come a long way," Roman replied. "I assume you have a reason."

"A matter of some delicacy."

"Then be direct."

"I will be as direct as my instructions permit."

The envoy took the chair offered to him and folded his hands.

"My Alpha has received reports concerning unusual developments at Blackthorn. He wishes to establish whether these developments affect relations between our territories."

"What reports?" Roman asked.

"I'm not authorized to disclose the original sources."

"Can't or won't?"

The envoy's expression didn't change.

"My instructions are specific."

"Then why come here?"

"To deliver this."

He reached into his coat and produced a sealed letter.

He placed it on the table between us.

Roman broke the seal.

I watched his eyes move across the page.

They stopped halfway down.

Something in his expression changed, so subtly that I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching him so closely.

"Read it aloud," I said.

His gaze flicked toward me.

Then he looked back at the letter.

"Our pack has received word of a Moonborn heir, extraordinary and feared, said to walk among your people."

The blood drained from my face.

Moonborn.

I knew that phrase.

I'd seen it in ink on a brittle page protected inside a plastic sleeve. I'd remembered the strange gap where part of the original text had been cut away.

At the time, it had been a mystery.

Now it had crossed the borders of Blackthorn and reached another Alpha's desk.

"Where did that wording come from?" I asked.

The envoy turned toward me.

"I'm not authorized to say."

"Is it from an old book?"

"It was relayed to us as part of a report."

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"The report passed through several hands before reaching my Alpha. The original source was not included in the information I received."

I studied him.

He seemed sincere, but sincerity wasn't the same as knowledge. A messenger could tell the truth about what he didn't know while concealing what he had been instructed not to reveal.

"Was this information spread deliberately?" Roman asked.

"I cannot speak to that."

"Who reported it first?"

"I don't know."

Roman placed the letter on the desk.

"That phrase doesn't appear in any public record."

The envoy said nothing.

I looked at the words again.

Extraordinary and feared.

There was something unsettling about the description. It didn't sound like a neutral reference to a bloodline. It sounded like a warning, or an accusation written by someone who had already decided what I was.

"Does your Alpha believe this report?" I asked.

The envoy hesitated.

"My Alpha believes it warrants investigation."

"That isn't what I asked."

"No," he said carefully. "It isn't."

Roman's expression darkened.

"I'd like you to leave."

The envoy rose immediately.

"As you wish."

He adjusted his cuffs and bowed.

"My Alpha asked me to convey one final message. He hopes you will consider this visit a courtesy. Other parties may not be so considerate."

"Which parties?" Roman demanded.

The envoy paused.

"That information was not provided to me."

"Of course it wasn't."

The man accepted the dismissal without protest and left the study.

The door closed behind him.

For several seconds, neither Roman nor I spoke.

Then Roman picked up the letter and read it again.

"Someone else has found the old texts," he said quietly. "We're not the only ones looking for answers anymore."

I stared at the words on the page.

Moonborn heir.

Until now, the mystery had belonged to fragments, whispers, and unanswered questions hidden inside Blackthorn.

Now another Alpha knew enough to send an envoy.

Someone had carried the words across our borders. Someone had decided that my possible identity was worth reporting, investigating, and perhaps fearing.

I looked at Roman.

"That envoy didn't come here to give us information."

"No."

"He came to let us know someone is watching."

Roman folded the letter carefully.

"Yes."

"And the warning?"

His gaze met mine.

"That others won't be so polite."

I looked back at the envelope.

For the first time, I wondered whether the people searching for the Moonborn heir wanted to find me because they needed my help or because they wanted to make certain I never had the chance to become what the old texts described.

Outside the study, footsteps passed along the corridor.

Ordinary footsteps.

Ordinary sounds.

But nothing about my life felt ordinary anymore.

Roman reached for my hand.

This time, he didn't pull me behind him or tell me to wait somewhere safe.

He simply held on.

And together, we stared at the letter that had turned a private mystery into a threat neither of us could afford to ignore.