Chapter Three: Suitable

My old room had not changed, and somehow that was worse.

The narrow bed still sat beneath the window. Pale curtains were tied back with faded ribbons. The dresser still carried the small scratch near the handle from the day I dropped one of Vivian’s music boxes and she cried for an hour, even though it had not broken.

The only obvious difference was the empty shelves.

My books were gone.

I stood in the doorway longer than I should have, one hand wrapped around the knob. It felt childish to care so much, but the books had been the only part of this room that ever truly belonged to me.

Of course they had packed them away.

Maybe no one had expected me to want them when I came home.

Maybe no one had expected me to come home at all.

Behind me, Luca’s footsteps faded down the hall.

Don’t let it.

I wanted to believe him.

But standing there brought back the eleven-year-old girl Victor had sent away, quiet, apologetic and always trying to take up less space.

I could feel that version of me settling back into place.

I dragged my suitcase inside and shut the door.

A dress lay across the bed.

It was not one of mine.

The fabric was soft blue, with long sleeves, a high neckline and a simple waist. Pretty enough to be acceptable and modest enough to disappear beside someone like Vivian.

A folded note rested on top.

I recognised her handwriting before I picked it up.

Aurora,

Wear this tonight.

Father does not want unnecessary attention.

Vivian

I read it twice.

Unnecessary attention.

I had been back in Black Moon Ridge for less than an hour, and they were already reminding me how I was expected to behave.

Quiet, grateful and small.

My fingers tightened around the note.

For one wild second, I wanted to tear it in half.

Instead, I placed it neatly on the dresser.

That was the problem with me.

Even my anger had manners.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Travel-tired eyes, a loose braid, pale cheeks and a cardigan wrinkled from hours of flying.

Nothing about me looked capable of threatening anyone.

Yet Vivian had chosen my clothes before I arrived, and Victor had warned me not to draw attention before I had even reached my room.

Then there was Ezra.

The way his stride had broken when he saw me. The flash in his grey eyes before his expression closed again. The way my wolf had reacted to him more strongly than she had to anything in almost eighteen years.

His scent returned with the memory.

I pressed a hand to my ribs.

The faint movement beneath my skin sharpened until it almost felt like claws brushing from the inside.

“Stop,” I whispered.

She did not.

For years, I had begged her to wake. I had lain awake in dormitory beds while other girls whispered about first shifts, full moons and the rush of finally running beneath their own skin. Whenever they asked about me, I smiled and told them I was a late bloomer.

Late bloomer sounded kinder than defective.

Now, three weeks before my eighteenth birthday, my wolf had finally chosen to make herself known.

All because Ezra Blackthorn had walked through a door.

A bell rang somewhere downstairs.

Dinner.

I looked back at the dress.

Suitable.

Fine.

If they wanted quiet, I could give them quiet.

For now.

I washed my face in the small adjoining bathroom, then changed into the blue dress.

It fit perfectly, which somehow made it worse.

Vivian had either guessed my size or asked someone. Either way, she had thought carefully about how I should look tonight.

Appropriate.

Presentable.

Forgettable.

I pulled my hair loose from its braid and brushed it until it fell over my shoulders in soft waves.

My hand reached towards the pins on the dresser, ready to twist it into something neat and controlled.

Then I left them where they were.

No one else had chosen that for me.

When I opened the bedroom door, the hallway was empty.

The house had changed while I dressed. Music drifted up from below, low and elegant. Voices rose and fell beneath it. Roasted meat, wine, candle smoke and the scent of too many wolves filled the air.

My stomach twisted.

I started towards the stairs, then paused.

Near the old east window, two women stood with their backs partly turned. One was older, a woman I vaguely remembered from childhood, though I could not place her name.

“I thought she wasn’t coming back,” the younger woman whispered.

“Hush.”

“I’m serious. After all this time? And tonight of all nights?”

Tonight of all nights.

I held my breath.

The older woman glanced along the hallway before answering.

“Victor should have kept her away until after the presentation.”

My hand tightened around the banister.

“Does Vivian know?”

“Vivian must know.”

A chill moved through me.

The younger woman lowered her voice further.

“What if the old stories are true?”

The older woman went still.

“Do not talk about that here.”

“What stories?” I asked.

Both women spun around.

They dipped their heads almost at once.

“Miss Vale,” the older woman said quickly.

I stepped closer. “What stories?”

She swallowed. “Nothing. Old pack nonsense.”

“If it’s nonsense, then tell me.”

Her gaze moved past my shoulder.

Fear appeared before she could hide it.

I turned.

Victor stood at the top of the stairs, one hand resting on the banister.

His face was composed.

The two women looked as though he had already threatened them.

“Aurora,” he said. “You are late.”

They scattered without another word.

I looked at him, my pulse thudding.

“What stories?”

His gaze hardened. “You will not embarrass me tonight by chasing servant gossip.”

“They were talking about me.”

“They were talking nonsense.”

“Then why are you angry?”

He paused.

It was the first time I had ever asked him that directly.

“Dinner,” he said. “Now.”

He turned and descended the stairs, already expecting me to follow.

I should have obeyed immediately.

Instead, I looked once more towards the empty hall.

They thought I should have stayed away until after the presentation.

They were frightened of old stories.

And they seemed to think Vivian knew why.

My wolf pressed closer beneath my skin, alert to something I could not yet understand.

As I followed Victor towards the dining hall, one certainty settled heavily inside me.

Black Moon Ridge had not forgotten me.

It had been waiting.

And Victor knew why.