Chapter 6: The Promise Blake Made

The howl followed me into my dreams.

I heard it long after I left the courtyard, long after I locked myself inside my room and convinced myself that the sound had been nothing more than an illusion.

It came from somewhere deep within me, a mournful cry that seemed to carry years of loneliness.

I woke before dawn with my hands pressed against my chest.

For several seconds, I couldn't remember where I was. My room was dark, the window was closed, and the only sound was the distant rustling of leaves outside.

Then I felt it.

A strange ache beneath my ribs.

Not the familiar pain of heartbreak. Not hunger. Not fear.

Something else.

I reached for the pendant around my neck.

It was cold.

I stared at it, almost disappointed.

Yesterday, I had felt its warmth. I had heard something inside me answer a call I hadn't known how to make.

Now, it was nothing more than an old piece of silver hanging from a chain.

Perhaps that was all it had ever been.

Perhaps grief and years of disappointment had finally made me desperate enough to imagine things.

I got out of bed and washed my face.

I had work to do, and whatever was happening to me would have to wait.

But as I reached for the door, I remembered Blake's words.

Whatever happens, I need you to remain calm.

He had said them as though he already knew something terrible was coming.

And he had made another promise.

He would find out what he could about my pendant and my mother's past.

Blake had made promises to me before.

I wondered how many he intended to break.

---

The packhouse was unusually quiet when I entered the kitchen.

Most of the workers had gone to the ceremonial grounds to finish preparing for the coming celebration. A few remained behind to prepare breakfast for the guards and council members.

I tied my apron around my waist and began sorting the vegetables.

I had barely started when someone placed a cup beside my cutting board.

I looked up.

Blake stood across from me.

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

He rarely entered the kitchen himself. If he wanted anything, he sent a guard or called for a servant. His presence made the other workers fall silent, but he seemed interested only in me.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

I returned my attention to the vegetables.

"You can talk. I'm working."

"Nyla."

I set down the knife.

"What is it?"

He glanced towards the other workers.

"Somewhere private."

I almost laughed.

"You seem to enjoy private conversations when you don't want anyone to hear what you're saying."

His expression tightened.

"I deserve that."

The admission caught me off guard.

I wiped my hands and followed him into the narrow passage beside the pantry. It wasn't truly private, but it was quiet enough that the workers couldn't hear every word.

Blake faced me.

"I spoke to the healer this morning."

"And?"

"He believes the incident yesterday may have been a natural healing response."

I folded my arms.

"Natural for whom?"

He hesitated.

"Some wolves heal faster than others."

"I'm not a wolf, according to everyone in this pack."

"That is what we've been told."

The words unsettled me.

"What do you mean, we've been told?"

He looked away.

"I mean that nobody has ever found evidence of a wolf inside you."

"That isn't the same as knowing there is nothing there."

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

For a moment, I forgot my anger.

Blake had never spoken to me like this before. He had always treated my wolflessness as an unfortunate fact, something we could ignore as long as I remained useful and quiet.

Now he seemed to be questioning it himself.

"Do you think I have a wolf?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you think the pendant has something to do with it?"

His jaw tightened.

"I don't know that either."

"Then what do you know, Blake?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know that something unusual happened yesterday. I know the council is asking questions about your mother. And I know that I should have investigated your history long before now."

I searched his face.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I believed there was nothing to investigate."

"And now?"

"Now I'm not so certain."

I wanted to be satisfied with that answer.

I wasn't.

"Did you promise my mother something?"

The question escaped before I could reconsider it.

Blake went completely still.

My heartbeat quickened.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because whenever I mention her, you become uncomfortable. You look at my pendant as if you recognise it. And Councilman Darius spoke about my mother as though her name belonged in a conversation about the royal records."

Blake's eyes sharpened.

"You heard that conversation?"

"Enough of it."

"How much?"

"Enough to know that you have been hiding something from me."

He looked towards the kitchen entrance, then back at me.

"I knew your mother."

The words struck me harder than I expected.

I gripped the edge of the wooden shelf beside me.

"You knew her?"

"Not well. I was younger when she lived here, and I was not yet Alpha. But I remember her."

"Why have you never told me?"

"Because she died when you were young, and I didn't believe my memories would help you."

"What do you remember?"

He hesitated.

"She was afraid of something."

A cold feeling crept through me.

"Afraid of what?"

"I don't know."

"Blake!"

"I was a boy, Nyla. I remember arguments between my father and members of the council. I remember your mother refusing to attend certain gatherings. I remember her asking questions that made powerful people uncomfortable."

I swallowed.

"What kind of questions?"

"Questions about the old bloodlines. About records that had been sealed. About why certain families had disappeared from the royal histories."

My fingers tightened around the shelf.

"And nobody thought to tell me?"

"Nobody knew how to explain it."

"You could have tried."

He lowered his gaze.

I hated that he looked ashamed. It made it harder to remain angry, and I wanted my anger. It was the only thing keeping the hurt from swallowing me.

"Did you promise her anything?" I asked again.

Blake was silent for so long that I thought he would refuse to answer.

Then he nodded.

"Yes."

My breath caught.

"What did you promise?"

"Before she died, she asked me to look out for you."

I stared at him.

"She asked you to protect me?"

"She spoke to my father first. Later, she spoke to me. She said that if anything happened to her, I should make sure you were never treated as though you were less valuable than the other wolves."

A painful laugh escaped me.

"How wonderfully that promise has worked out."

His face tightened.

"I was young. I didn't understand what she was asking."

"You didn't need to understand everything. You only needed to keep your promise."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

My voice trembled, and I hated it.

"Do you know what it feels like to spend your entire life being told you're a disappointment? To watch other people find their wolves, their mates, their place in the pack while everyone looks at you as if you're missing something essential?"

He didn't answer.

"I waited for you to choose me," I continued. "I thought that if you were willing to stand beside me, maybe everyone else would finally stop treating me like I was worthless."

"Nyla—"

"And all this time, you were keeping secrets about my mother."

"I never intended to hurt you."

"But you did."

The silence between us became unbearable.

Blake took a step closer.

"I can't undo the past. But I can promise you something now."

I looked at him warily.

"What?"

"I will find out what happened to your mother. I will discover why the council is interested in you, and I will get answers about that pendant."

I studied his face.

"And if those answers put your position as Alpha at risk?"

His eyes narrowed.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if the truth threatens your authority, will you still tell me?"

For the first time, Blake had no immediate response.

That was all I needed.

I stepped away from him.

"You see? That's the problem with your promises. They sound beautiful until keeping them becomes inconvenient."

"Nyla, I swear to you—"

"Don't."

He stopped.

"I don't want another promise from you. I want the truth."

I returned to the kitchen before he could answer.

My hands were shaking so badly that I had to lean against the counter.

Mara found me a few minutes later.

"Did something happen?"

I told her what Blake had revealed.

She listened without interrupting.

When I finished, she pulled out a chair and sat beside me.

"So your mother knew something about the royal bloodlines," she said slowly.

"Apparently."

"And she trusted Blake to protect you."

"He hasn't done a very good job."

"No," Mara agreed. "He hasn't."

I looked at her in surprise.

She shrugged.

"What? I'm not going to defend him just because he has a handsome face."

Despite everything, I laughed.

It was brief, but it eased the pressure in my chest.

Mara reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"Whatever your mother was involved in, we'll find out. But you need to be careful. If the council is interested in you, they may not be interested for your benefit."

I thought about Councilman Darius.

About the way he had spoken of my ignorance as though it were a deliberate arrangement.

About Blake's expression when I mentioned my mother.

"I know."

"No, Nyla. I mean really careful. Don't go searching through the royal records alone. Don't confront the council without knowing what you're dealing with. And don't let Blake convince you that his promises are the same as answers."

I nodded.

For the first time, I realised that finding the truth might require more than asking questions.

I would have to start looking for myself.

---

That evening, I returned to my room and took out the little wooden box where I kept my mother's belongings.

There wasn't much inside.

A faded handkerchief.

Two old letters with the writing too damaged to read.

A small photograph of my mother holding me as a baby.

And a folded piece of cloth she had wrapped around the pendant when she first gave it to me.

I spread everything across the bed.

I had examined these objects countless times after her death, searching for something that might explain who she had been before she became the woman I remembered.

There had never been anything useful.

Tonight, however, I noticed something I had overlooked.

The cloth had a tiny mark embroidered into one corner.

A crescent.

Three circles.

I held it close to the lamp.

My mouth went dry.

The symbol was identical to the one on my pendant.

Beneath it, almost hidden by a loose thread, were three tiny letters.

A.B.K.

I traced them with my fingertip.

I didn't recognise them.

But I knew someone who might.

Councilman Darius.

The thought was reckless. It was also the first real lead I had found that belonged to me, rather than to someone else's conversation.

I folded the cloth and slipped it into my pocket.

Then I looked at the pendant.

"I don't know what you are," I whispered. "But I'm going to find out."

For a moment, the room remained silent.

Then the metal warmed against my palm.

A faint sensation moved beneath my skin.

I closed my eyes.

Deep inside me, something stirred.

This time, I did not pull away.

I listened.

And although I couldn't understand the strange feeling that answered me, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

My mother's secrets were not finished with me.

Neither were Blake's promises.

But from now on, I would decide what to do with the truth when I found it.

No one else would make that choice for me.