Chapter 9: The Woman in the Silver Dress

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the figure outside my window.

The silver object in the stranger's hand.

The way my pendant had burned against my skin.

And the strange certainty that whoever had stood outside my room hadn't come to watch me.

They had come to find me.

By sunrise, the figure had disappeared, leaving no footprints beneath my window and no explanation for the heat that had lingered around my neck long after the pendant cooled.

I considered telling Mara everything, but I stopped myself.

Blake had already warned me to keep quiet about the strange things happening to me. Councilman Darius had reacted to my healing as though he knew exactly what it meant.

And someone had been watching my room.

For once, I decided to keep a secret of my own.

I tucked the pendant beneath my blouse, dressed, and stepped into the corridor.

The entire packhouse seemed to be awake.

Servants hurried past carrying folded cloth, flower arrangements, and boxes of decorations. Guards moved through the courtyard in pairs. Even the older pack members who usually spent their mornings complaining about everything had gathered to discuss the fire.

The ceremonial hall stood behind the eastern courtyard, its blackened windows staring like empty eyes at the morning sky.

The fire had destroyed much of the interior. Workers were already removing charred wood and broken furniture, but the damage was too severe to repair before the ceremony.

That didn't stop the Alpha from insisting the event would proceed.

Blake Mercer had never allowed an inconvenience to interfere with something that mattered to his reputation.

And nothing mattered more to him than the ceremony.

I found Mara near the kitchen entrance, arguing with a servant about a delivery of white roses.

When she saw me, she abandoned the argument.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"In my room."

"You look like you haven't slept."

"I haven't."

Her expression softened.

"Is it because of last night?"

I glanced toward the courtyard.

"Partly."

Mara lowered her voice. "Nyla, people are saying the fire wasn't an accident."

"I know."

"Someone claims they saw a person near the hall shortly before the flames started. Another says one of the windows was forced open."

"Have they caught anyone?"

"No."

That single word made my stomach tighten.

Someone had watched the hall burn. Someone might have wanted the ceremony disrupted.

And someone had stood outside my window afterward.

I couldn't convince myself those events were unrelated.

Before I could say anything, a bell rang from the front entrance.

The servants stopped talking.

A guard hurried through the corridor, calling for the head attendant. Another appeared behind him, looking unusually tense.

"What is it?" Mara asked.

The guard straightened.

"An honored guest has arrived."

"Who?"

He hesitated.

"Lady Seraphina Vale."

I frowned.

I'd never heard of her.

Mara, however, went completely still.

"Seraphina Vale?" she repeated. "As in the royal court's Lady Seraphina?"

The guard nodded and hurried away.

I turned to Mara. "Who is she?"

Mara stared toward the entrance.

"She's a member of one of the oldest werewolf bloodlines in the kingdom. People say she has connections to the royal family."

"Then why is she visiting Blackthorn?"

"I don't know."

Her gaze returned to me.

"But if she's here for the ceremony, Blake will be desperate to impress her."

I almost laughed.

Blake was always desperate to impress someone important.

Yet the uneasiness in Mara's face stopped me.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Mara."

She sighed.

"Seraphina has a reputation for noticing things other people miss. My aunt once worked in the royal household. She said Lady Seraphina could look at someone for five seconds and know when they were lying."

"That sounds unpleasant."

"It is, especially if you've got something to hide."

My fingers moved instinctively toward my pendant.

Something about the visitor's name bothered me, though I couldn't explain why.

Before I could question the feeling, a sharp voice came from the staircase.

"Why is everyone standing around?"

Sienna Vale descended the steps wearing a fitted cream dress, her golden-brown hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders.

Two servants followed her with garment bags.

Her eyes swept over us.

"Mara, the flowers need to be checked. Nyla, the eastern guest rooms haven't been prepared."

"I was told to help in the courtyard," I replied.

"Then someone gave you the wrong instructions."

She smiled without warmth.

"Unless you intend to stand here all morning discussing our guests."

Mara opened her mouth, but I touched her arm.

"I'll prepare the rooms."

Sienna's gaze lingered on my face.

"Good. And try not to embarrass the pack today."

I walked away before I said something that would cost me my position.

The eastern guest rooms were located in a quieter wing of the packhouse, away from the servants' quarters and the training grounds.

I had barely finished changing the sheets in the first room when I heard footsteps behind me.

"You're the girl everyone has been talking about."

I turned.

A woman stood in the doorway.

She was tall and elegant, with dark hair swept into a loose arrangement at the back of her head. Her skin was pale, her eyes an unusual shade of grey, and her expression carried the calm confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

She wore a silver dress.

Not pale grey.

Not white.

Silver.

The material caught the morning light and shimmered with every movement, as though tiny stars had been woven into the fabric.

My breath caught.

For one terrifying second, I thought I was looking at the stranger from my window.

But the woman before me was older, perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, and her face was clearly visible.

"Lady Seraphina?" I asked.

She smiled faintly.

"At your service."

I lowered my head politely.

"Welcome to Blackthorn, my lady. I'm Nyla. I'll help you settle in."

"Nyla."

She repeated my name slowly.

Then her gaze moved to the pendant resting against my chest.

I had forgotten to tuck it beneath my blouse.

Something changed in her expression.

It was subtle, but I noticed.

Her smile disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed.

And for the briefest moment, she looked genuinely frightened.

"Where did you get that?"

I covered the pendant with my hand.

"It belonged to my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yes."

"What was her name?"

The questions came too quickly.

I studied her carefully.

"Why do you want to know?"

Seraphina looked at me for a long moment.

Then she stepped inside and closed the door.

"Because that pendant should not be here."

My heart began to pound.

"What do you mean?"

She approached me, her gaze fixed on the silver charm.

"The crescent. The three circles. Has anyone explained what they mean?"

"No."

"Has it ever become warm against your skin?"

I stopped breathing.

Seraphina noticed.

"Ah," she whispered.

I backed away.

"Who are you?"

"I told you. Seraphina Vale."

"That isn't what I meant."

For the first time, something like respect entered her expression.

"Your mother was a remarkable woman."

My fingers tightened around the pendant.

"You knew my mother?"

"I knew of her."

"That's not an answer."

"No." She tilted her head. "It isn't."

Anger rose inside me.

Everyone seemed to know something about my mother except me. Blake knew enough to make promises. Darius knew enough to become nervous whenever my pendant was mentioned. And now this woman had arrived, taken one look at me, and started asking questions about a piece of jewelry I'd worn since childhood.

"Tell me what you know," I demanded.

Seraphina's gaze sharpened.

"You should be careful about demanding answers from people who might be trying to protect you."

"Everyone keeps saying they're protecting me. Meanwhile, nobody tells me anything."

For a moment, silence filled the room.

Then Seraphina gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

"That sounds exactly like her."

"My mother?"

"Yes."

She turned toward the window.

"She hated being kept in the dark. She believed that knowing the truth was worth almost any price."

My throat tightened.

"What happened to her?"

Seraphina didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she looked at the door as if checking whether anyone might be listening.

"How much do you know about your birth?"

"Almost nothing."

"And your father?"

"My mother never spoke about him."

Seraphina closed her eyes briefly.

When she opened them, the careful composure had returned.

"Then we have a great deal to discuss."

A knock sounded at the door.

Before either of us could respond, Blake entered.

His eyes went straight to Seraphina.

"Lady Vale. I was told you had arrived."

"Alpha Mercer."

They exchanged formal greetings, but the atmosphere between them was strained.

Then Blake noticed me standing beside the bed.

His expression hardened.

"Nyla, you may leave."

"No," Seraphina said.

The word was quiet.

It was also unmistakably an order.

Blake stared at her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said she may stay."

For the first time since I'd known him, Blake looked as though he wasn't sure what to do.

Seraphina moved toward the dressing table and picked up a silver hairbrush.

"I was asking about her mother."

Blake's face changed.

Only slightly, but enough.

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing she didn't deserve to hear."

"Lady Vale, this is a private matter concerning my pack."

"And yet you seem remarkably frightened of a conversation about a dead woman's past."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I looked from one to the other.

"What is going on?"

Neither answered.

Blake finally turned toward me.

"Go to your room, Nyla."

"No."

His jaw tightened.

I had never refused him so directly.

"Please," he said, lowering his voice. "Not now."

That single word unsettled me more than his anger would have.

Please.

Blake Mercer didn't plead.

He commanded.

Seraphina watched him with growing interest.

"Perhaps the Alpha should explain why a young woman wearing an old royal symbol frightens him."

My heart stopped.

An old royal symbol.

I looked down at my pendant.

Then back at her.

"Royal?"

Seraphina's expression softened, but she didn't take back her words.

Blake stepped between us.

"That is enough."

"No," I whispered. "It isn't."

Something stirred beneath my skin.

A deep pressure spread through my chest, followed by a faint warmth around my throat.

The pendant grew hot.

Seraphina noticed immediately.

Her eyes widened.

"Interesting."

Blake turned toward me.

"Nyla, take off the pendant."

"Why?"

"Do it."

His command struck something inside me.

Something ancient.

Something furious.

For a heartbeat, I heard a growl that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside my own body.

Blake went pale.

Seraphina's expression became unreadable.

And then, from the corridor outside, a voice called out.

"Alpha! The royal delegation has sent word."

Blake didn't look away from me.

"What word?"

The guard hesitated before answering.

"The Lycan King's representatives have confirmed that His Majesty has been informed of the fire."

Seraphina slowly turned toward the door.

"Then the situation is worse than I feared."

I looked at her.

"What does the Lycan King have to do with me?"

Her grey eyes met mine.

For the first time, she looked at me not as a servant, not as an unfortunate wolfless Omega, but as someone standing at the edge of a dangerous revelation.

"That, Nyla Graves," she said quietly, "is the question you should have been asking from the beginning."

And beneath my fingers, my mother's pendant pulsed like a living heartbeat.