THE FULL STATEMENT

Elaris's POV

Neryss snuffs out whatever light remains.

The house falls almost entirely black.

Neither of us moves toward the door.

We listen.

The whistle does not come again.

There is only the faint movement of branches outside and the occasional creak of the old house settling for a few minutes.

Then footsteps.

Not hurried.

Not searching.

They move away from the house toward the main road.

Neryss waits until the sound has disappeared.

"do you think they saw us?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think they knew we were here?"

"I don't know that either."

She stays near the door with her blade drawn.

I fight down the urge to peer through the window.

If someone wanted to know whether or not the house was occupied, giving them movement would answer the question.

So we wait.

Eventually, the night grows quiet again.

Whatever passed near the house is gone.

For now.

We do not open the house until full morning.

Neryss checks the threshold first.

Nothing is there.

No note.

No disturbed earth obviously enough to show a direction.

No footprints we can trust.

The road looks exactly as it did the evening before.

That almost makes the encounter more disconcerting.

Neryss crouches near the threshold.

"It could have been a signal."

"To whom?"

She shakes her head.

"Could have been a warning."

"Or a test."

I add the third possibility myself.

"Or someone simply passed close enough to use it."

Neryss looks toward me.

"You don't believe that."

"No."

I look toward the road.

"But I don't know enough to dismiss it."

I find a scrap of paper writing down the time we heard the whistle, how many calls there were and the direction from which the sound appeared to come.

Neryss watches.

“You’re keeping records?”I should have started doing this months ago."

Every detail matters now.

Not because every detail will prove something.

Because forgetting one could allow someone else to decide what happened.

I fold the paper and put it with the two anonymous messages.

Three pieces of information.

No conclusion yet.

The day passes under greater caution.

Neryss makes a second supply trip, taking a different route and avoiding the busiest section of market.

I stay inside.

When she returns, she carries less than yesterday but has more useful information.

"The council recalled several senior attendants."

I look up from the herbs I am sorting.

"Which ones?"

"From the private wing. Two servants connected to the medical rooms. One household clerk. I couldn't learn all their names."

That is enough.

The palace is questioning people who were previously allowed to remain in place.

"Do they say anything?"

"That depends on who you ask."

Neryss sets the supplies down.

"some say the council found inconsistencies. Others say the Alpha ordered the questioning himself. No one seems certain."

I absorb that.

The important part is not the rumors.

It is the change in behavior.

People are being questioned again.

Records are being pulled.

The palace is no longer behaving as though Maevra's death has a single settled explanation.

Neryss lowers her voice.

"Someone at the market said the council is no longer telling servants that the case is closed."

I look toward the window.

That is the first piece of news that feels solid enough to matter.

The story is changing.

I keep the two notes together.

I place them side by side on the table.

The handwriting is the same.

The paper is similar.

The phrasing is restrained, almost clinical.

Whoever writes them doesn't waste words.

More importantly, neither message asks me to trust the writer.

They tell me where the investigation is moving.

That distinction matters.

I touch the edge of the second note.

Someone with detailed knowledge is choosing to keep me inside the territory.

Why?

To protect me?

To monitor me?

To make sure I am available when the truth reaches a point where my presence becomes necessary?

I cannot answer any of those questions.

So I refuse to invent one.

Neryss asks, "Do you trust whoever is sending them?"

"No."

She looks relieved.

"Good."

"But I believe the information may be real."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is."

I fold both paper.

"I don't need to trust the hand. I only need to know whether what it tells me can be verified."

That is the only way forward I can see.

One fact at a time.

In the afternoon, someone knocks on the door.

This time the sound is ordinary.

Three slow knocks.

Neryss reaches for her blade before answering.

A woman stands outside.

She is older, dressed simply, carrying a worn medical satchel.

She introduces herself as a healer from one of the outer settlements.

She has treated pack members for years, long before the current household arrangements became what they are.

"I heard the Alpha's second woman was sent out here," she says.

Her eyes briefly lower toward my stomach.

"And that she is carrying a child."

I stay cautious.

"How did you hear that?"

"News travels faster than officials think."

She does not ask whether or not I poisoned Maevra.

She doesn't ask whether or not Averic believes me.

She simply says, “May I examine you?”

Neryss looks at me.

I consider refusing.

Then I step aside.

"Come in."

The healer examines me without ceremony.

She checks my pulse, listens to my breathing, studies my eyes and places one hand lightly against my abdomen.

The child responds.

A small movement beneath her palm.

"There."

The healer smiles faintly.

"Strong."

I release a breath I didn't realize I had been holding.

She continues the examination.

My own essence remains lower that it should be.

The earlier strain hasn't disappeared simply because I'm no longer inside the palace.

"You have been pushed too hard," she says.

"I know."

"You may know it and still ignore it."

Neryss gives me a pointed look.

The healer almost smiles.

"Rest. whenever your body demands. Eat regularly. Keep warm. And don't let fear convince you that exhaustion is proof of strength."

She leaves a small bundle of herbs.

Nothing elaborate.

Nothing magical enough to solve what cannot be solved.

Just practical medicine.

At the door, she pauses.

"Whatever trouble follows the palace. don't let it make you careless with yourself."

I nod.

After she leaves, I hold the herb bundle for a while.

It is a small kindness.

No conditions attached.

I had forgotten what that felt like.

Neryss returns from seeing the healer to the road.

"There is more."

I look at her.

"The Alpha was seen."

My fingers still.

"Where?"

"Leaving the private wing."

She continues before I can ask.

"He was with the captain of the guard. They were headed toward the secure holding rooms."

I say nothing.

That is not. a declaration.

An apology.

A return.

But it is movement.

Averic has begun going where the answers are.

The secure rooms contain the people and records that can change the shape of the investigation.

Neryss looks at me in careful.

"He may be looking for the attendant."

"Perhaps."

"You don't want to know?"

"I do."

The honesty surprises both of us.

I look down at the herbs in my hand.

"But wanting to know isn't the same as believing what I want to hear."

Neryss nods.

That distinction may be the only thing keeping me steady.

The information follows me through the evening.

Averic is moving.

The palace is questioning people.

The council is revisiting records.

The attendant's statement is somewhere inside those walls.

None of it changes what happened to me.

None of it guarantees Averic will believe me.

I refuse to turn a small movement into a promise.

Hope has a way of making people overlook danger.

I know that better than most.

So I keep working.

I prepare the herbs the healer left.

I organize our food.

I check the doors before sunset.

Then I sit beside the small window and watch the road until the light disappears.

Somewhere beyond the trees is the palace.

I imagine Averic walking through its corridors again.

Perhaps he is angry.

Perhaps he is grieving.

Perhaps he is reading every document he can find because he cannot bear another uncertainty.

I don't know.

And for once I do not chase the answer.

If he is beginning to question what happened, he will have to reach the truth without me running back to him.

Night returns.

The house falls dark.

Neryss keeps the fire low.

I lie on the cot and rest my hand over my stomach.

The child moves steadily.

I match my breathing to those small movements.

In.

Out.

Wait.

Another movement.

My body still bears the exhaustion of everything that happened before exile, but the healer's herbs have eased some of the strain.

I close my eyes.

The house is quieter than the palace ever was.

There aren't any council voices outside the walls.

No guards changing position.

No footsteps approaching with another order.

Yet I find myself listening more carefully here.

Every sound matters because no one is coming to protect us.

A branch brushes against the roof.

Neryss shifts near the hearth.

I open my eyes.

She looks over.

"Nothing."

I nod.

We both know that 'nothing' has become a temporary answer.

Near midnight, the house falls into stillness.

Then a familiar sound cuts through the night.

Three short whistle calls.

Neryss rises immediately.

This time the sound is closer.

Much closer.

The whistle comes once more.

Then silence.

A few seconds pass.

Three soft knocks touch the door.

Neryss's face changes.

She knows the rhythm.

"So do I," she whispers.

It is the old private-wing signal she once used when entering quietly without waking the outer guards.

A signal used by people who already belonged inside.

Not a stranger's knock.

Not a traveler's.

Someone is standing outside who knows palace habits.

Neryss takes her blade.

I move closer but remain behind her.

"Ask who it is."

She does.

No answer.

Another three taps.

My stomach tightens.

Not from fear alone.

From recognition.

Whoever is outside expects the person inside to understand the signal.

Neryss slowly lifts the latch.

She opens the door only far enough to look outside.

No one stands there.

The road is empty.

The trees are still.

A folded paper lies on the threshold.

Neryss immediately reaches for it.

She checks beneath the porch before closing the door.

No one.

She brings the paper to me.

The handwriting is the same as before.

I recognize it before I unfold the page.

My fingers hesitate.

Not because I am afraid of the words.

Because I already know that whatever comes next will make remaining here more complicated.

I open the paper beneath the faint edge of moonlight.

The message is longer this time.

I read.

"The Alpha has read the full statement.

He has ordered the west-wing woman held under guard.

He has sent for the medical records of both pregnancies.

He knows the resonance finding was suppressed.

Do not move.

He will come."

I read the final line again.

He will come.

Not he may come.

Not he has been told.

He will come.

Neryss watches me.

"What does it say?"

I hand her the paper.

She reads it.

Her expression shifts with the mention of the pregnancy records.

"That changes things."

"Yes."

My mind moves faster now.

The suppressed resonance finding.

The medical records.

The west-wing woman under guard.

These are not rumors from a market stall.

They are specific actions.

Someone inside the palace is finally pulling at the pieces that were deliberately kept apart.

And Averic has read the attendant's complete statement himself.

That is the part I cannot ignore.

He has seen the testimony.

He has seen the names.

He has seen whatever evidence the attendant gave.

Yet the note does not say he has ordered me returned.

It doesn't say he believes me.

It says he will come.

I fold the paper slowly.

Neryss asks, "What will you do?"

I look toward the door.

"Nothing."

She frowns.

"For now, we wait."

I place the message beside the others.

If Averic truly intends to come, I will not meet him by running toward him.

Let him cross the distance.

Let him bring whatever he has discovered.

And let him answer one question before I answer any of his.

Whether he came because he finally found the truth -

or because he needs someone else to carry the blame.

Outside the road remains empty.

But somewhere beyond the trees, the palace has finally begun to move toward me.