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Merliya pov
The mop bucket hit my face before I saw it coming. Cold, filthy water drenched me. I gasped, choking on soap and grime, as laughter rang down the servants' hallway. "Oops." Sasha stood over me, the empty bucket swinging from her hand. "My mistake." I stayed on my knees, water dripping from my auburn curls. Three days as an Omega, and I'd already learned the only rule that mattered. Don't fight back. Fighting back made it worse. "What's wrong, murderer?" Ella kicked my scrub brush across the floor. "Cat got your tongue?" Murderer. That was my name now. "She won't even defend herself," a third girl sneered. "Pathetic." I reached for the brush with shaking hands. Sasha's boot came down on my fingers. Pain shot up my arm. I bit back a scream as she ground her heel in, smiling like she was enjoying every second. "I didn't do it," I whispered. It was all I ever said. It never helped. "Nobody cares what you did or didn't do." She pressed harder, and stars burst behind my eyes. "You're an Omega. You exist to be stepped on." Finally she lifted her foot. I fell forward onto my raw palms. "Clean it up. If I see one spot when I come back, you'll regret it." They left, their laughter fading. I sat in the puddle of dirty water, cradling my throbbing hand. This was my life now. Three days ago I'd had a family. Now they were ash, and the whole pack believed I was the one who'd struck the match. The Council called it mercy, letting me live as an Omega instead of exiling me to die in the wild. It didn't feel like mercy. It felt like a slower way to bleed out. I pushed myself up and got back to work. The marble floors of Alpha Dayn's estate wouldn't scrub themselves. And the truth wouldn't clear itself either. I just had to survive long enough to find it. By evening every muscle in my body screamed. Three hallways. Two loads of linen. Silver polished until my hands cramped. I was limping toward my room when voices stopped me. "—ceremony's tonight," a guard said. "All security in place?" "Yes, sir. The Alpha's mating ceremony proceeds as planned." My heart stuttered. The mating ceremony. Tonight. Under the full moon, every unmated wolf of age would gather in the ballroom, and the Goddess would draw fated mates together. It was supposed to be the most beautiful night of a wolf's life. "What about the Omega?" one guard asked. "The redhead?" The other laughed. "You think the Goddess wastes a mate on a family killer? She'll die alone. Just like she deserves." Their laughter chased me all the way to my room, a closet barely bigger than the mattress inside it. I sank down and finally let the tears come, shaking, my hand pressed over my mouth so no one would hear. When the worst of it passed, I threw my brush across the room out of pure helpless anger. It struck the wardrobe, and the door swung open. Something soft slid off the shelf and pooled on the floor. Crimson satin. The only beautiful thing I owned. The Luna had given it to me months ago, back when my family was alive and my worst problem was a sister who hated me. ‘Take it,’ she'd said, smiling. ‘The color's too young for me.’ I'd never had a reason to wear it. I'd never imagined a life where I would. I started to fold it back onto the shelf. Then something stubborn flickered in my chest. The same stubborn thing that had kept me breathing through three days of boots and buckets. The ceremony was a masked ball. No one removed their mask until the moon peaked. I could slip in. Stay in the shadows. Just once, just for an hour, see for myself whether the Goddess had truly turned her face from me. It was insane. If anyone recognized me, they'd kill me. I put the dress on anyway. It fit like it had been made for me. I let my hair fall loose in dark red waves and found a black feathered mask abandoned in the courtyard. In the cracked mirror, a stranger looked back. Beautiful and wanted. It was a lie, tonight, I was going to let myself believe it.“You think you have won, haven’t you?” she said, to my back, and there was something in her voice, some last coiled thing, that made me stop. “You think it ends with my son in the wild and me in a small room. Foolish girl. You don’t even know what you’re holding.” She laughed, low and awful. “Your sister knew. Kiara always knew. Why do you think she did it? Why do you think the Chain wanted your family gone and you sold and never dead? There are people who have been waiting a very long time for what runs in your blood to be born, and you’ve gone and born it, and now you’ve hidden it in a nursery and told yourself it’s safe, foolish girl.” Her eyes glittered. “Ask your King what the White Moon is. Ask him why the last one vanished. Ask him whose sister she was.” The floor seemed to tilt all of a sudden. “What did you say,” I whispered. But the Dowager Luna only smiled, the same bright terrible smile she’d worn over a girl beaten on a b
The Dowager Luna’s performance saved her from exile and cost her everything else, which was a justice I had not planned and found I could live with.The Council believed her, more or less. They could not prove she had written the grain-contract letter in her own hand, because she was far too careful for that, and a mother’s grief is a difficult thing to convict. So they did not exile her. They did something the old woman found infinitely worse, though it took her some weeks to understand it.They stripped her of the Blackwood name, since there was no longer a Blackwood pack for her to be Dowager of, and they left her exactly what she had left me. Nothing. No title, no lands, no allies, no son, no protection. An old woman with a ruined name in a crown-administered territory, surrounded by the very servants she had once ruled, who remembered every cruelty and were no longer afraid of her.I went to see her once, before I left Silverpine for the last time. I told myself it
“Dayn Blackwood,” the Council speaker said, “you are stripped of your title, your pack, and your standing. Silverpine passes to crown administration pending its people’s protection. You are exiled beyond the borders of the seven packs, to live or die by the wild as a lone wolf, which mercy is more than you extended to those you sold. The Council has spoken.”Exiled. To the wilds, to die as a lone wolf. The exact sentence he had offered me in his office, the one I had climbed out a window to escape, handed back to him now by the Council he had thought he stood above.He asked to speak before they took him. It was his right, the last one he had.They brought him before the crown, and I could have refused to hear him, and no one would have blamed me. But I had come too far in learning to be the kind of person who does not run on boots and hands, and so I nodded, and let the man who had thrown me away have his moment.“I’m sorry,” Dayn said.The hall went very quiet.
The crown inquiry closed its case against Silverpine on a grey afternoon in the great hall, and I was there for it, which mattered to me more than I had let myself admit.I sat at the crown’s side, not the accused’s, in the deep blue that had become mine, and I watched the evidence go before the full Alpha Council one piece at a time, and every piece was one I had helped pull into the light. The auction ledger in the Silverpine steward’s own hand. The freight manifests placing a Chain courier at my family’s gate the night of the fire. The nursery assassin’s chain of payment, running back through a chartered labour company to a letter about grain contracts sealed in the Dowager Luna’s morning room. Ken’s cracked confession, taken before he was poisoned inside the crown’s own walls. And the library records, the vervain research pulled month after month from a terminal under my dead sister’s login.The hall was silent for most of it. Alphas who had come prepared to see a family
He opened his mouth. I will remember what happened next for the rest of my life, because I watched it, from three feet away, and there was nothing I could do.He opened his mouth to answer me, and his face changed, and his hand went to his throat, and the wolf beside him, the guard who had brought him in, stepped back a single pace with a stillness that was its own confession. Ken folded to the library floor with foam at his lips and his eyes rolling white, and by the time I got to my knees beside him the seizure had him entirely, and the crown’s healer could do nothing, and neither could I.Vervain. The same poison that had killed my family. Given to Ken, somewhere between his cell and this room, by a hand that had reached him even here, even now, even inside a crown inquiry, exactly as a woman in grey had reached my son through a wall.He was dying. He knew it. He looked up at me through the poison with the last of himself, and he used it, the way Corvain had used his
The library records broke the frame open in a single afternoon, and they broke it open in a way that stopped my heart.I had heard Ken on the phone the night my family burned. It’s done. Made it look like an accident. I had built three seasons of survival on the certainty that Ken had lit the match. And Ken had. The inquiry proved it twice over, once in the freight manifests that put a Chain courier at our gate the night of the fire, and once in Ken’s own account, which cracked within an hour of a royal interrogator who could not be bribed and did not care whose Alpha he’d served.But Ken had not planned it. Ken was a hand, not a head, and heads leave their fingerprints in the details hands never think to hide.The vervain. The poison in the gas line, the same poison the frame had claimed I’d been researching. The inquiry traced the research, as I’d asked them to, back through the pack library’s terminals to the exact machine and the exact login that had pulled every tex







