Chapter 53: Armored

Hecate POV

The morning had begun with an unexpected gift of solitude. Ysabella had taken Aileen to visit Tori, and the castle felt quieter without them, the corridors echoing with the absence of a child's laughter and a friend's easy chatter. I did not mind. Solitude had been my closest companion for three years. It was familiar. Safe.

But there was work to be done.

I gathered my supplies, the oils and liniments and the small glass vials of tincture I had prepared the night before. A maid accompanied me to Odette's chambers, carrying the heavier bags. She was young, newly assigned, and she kept her eyes lowered as we walked. She had already learned that the queen's temper was unpredictable.

Odette was seated in her wheelchair by the window, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. The morning light caught the sharp angles of her face, the thin line of her lips. She looked like a queen carved from ice. Untouchable. Unforgiving.

"You are late," she said without turning around.

"The session was scheduled for this hour, Your Majesty. I am precisely on time."

She turned her head then, her cold eyes sweeping over me. "Do not correct me."

I said nothing. I simply set down my bag and began to prepare the oils.

The session proceeded as it always did. I massaged her legs, working the atrophied muscles, encouraging blood flow and movement. Odette complained about the pressure, about the temperature of the oil, about the angle of her foot. I adjusted and adapted, patient as stone.

"You seem unusually cheerful today," Odette observed, her voice sharp. "Did something happen? Or did someone?"

I did not take the bait. "The spring festival is approaching. I find the change of seasons invigorating."

"The spring festival." Odette's lips curled. "A celebration of mate bonds. How quaint. Do you believe in such things, Hecate? Do you believe the Moon Goddess chooses one person for another?"

"I believe the Goddess has a plan for everyone."

"Even for women like you? Witches who sell their magic to the highest bidder?"

I kept my hands steady on her legs. "Even for me."

Odette laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You are a fool. The mate bond is a myth perpetuated by wolves to justify their basest instincts. Maddox and I are proof of that. We were never mates. And yet here we are. Married. Ruling. Powerful."

I did not point out that she was paralyzed from the waist down, that her marriage was a cage for both of them, that the power she clung to so desperately was slowly poisoning her.

"You are doing well today," I said instead. "Your left knee bent more than it did yesterday."

Odette's eyes narrowed. She hated when I refused to engage, when I remained calm and professional while she tried to provoke. But she could not complain about my work. The results spoke for themselves. Her color was better. Her breathing was deeper. The dark magic in her body was receding, slowly but surely.

When the session ended, I helped the maid transfer Odette from the therapy table back to her wheelchair. The queen was silent, her jaw tight, her eyes fixed on some middle distance.

"The spring festival," she said as I gathered my supplies. "I expect to attend. As queen."

"I will speak with the king about arranging transportation for your wheelchair."

"How generous of you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

I bowed my head and left.

---

The corridor was empty when I stepped out of Odette's chambers. The maid had already gone ahead to return the supplies to my studio, and I was alone with my thoughts.

I was turning a corner when a servant appeared, a young man in the castle's livery, his face flushed from running. He pressed a folded piece of parchment into my hand and disappeared before I could ask any questions.

I stood in the shadows of the corridor and unfolded the note.

The handwriting was familiar. Tori's careful script, the letters slightly slanted, the ink smudged in one corner. I read the words once. Then again. Then a third time, to make sure I had not misunderstood.

My heart began to race.

I folded the note and tucked it into the sleeve of my robe. My hands were steady, but my pulse was not. Something was happening. Something that required my presence, my attention, my magic.

I walked back to my studio with measured steps, my mind already working through the implications. The servant who had delivered the note was gone, already swallowed by the castle's endless bustle. No one had seen. No one would ask questions.

The maid was arranging the supplies on my worktable when I entered. She looked up, surprised to see me so soon.

"Healer? Is everything alright?"

I forced a smile. "Everything is fine. I have decided to take the afternoon to procure fresh herbs. The winter has depleted my stores, and the spring growth is still too young."

"Shall I accompany you?"

"No. I prefer to go alone. I will return before sunset."

The maid curtsied and left. I waited until her footsteps faded, then I pulled the note from my sleeve and read it one more time.

Then I held it over the candle flame and watched it burn.

The parchment curled and blackened, the words dissolving into ash. I let the remains fall into the empty hearth and brushed the soot from my fingers.

I pulled my cloak from the hook by the door, the heavy black one with the deep hood that hid my face. I wrapped it around my shoulders and fastened the clasp at my throat. In the mirror above the mantle, Hecate stared back at me. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Dark robes.

But beneath the mask, Samantha was paying attention.

I left the studio and walked through the castle corridors, my boots silent on the stone. I passed guards and servants and nobles, all of them nodding, all of them seeing the healer on her way to gather herbs. No one stopped me. No one questioned.

The side gate was unguarded at this hour, the guards rotating shifts. I slipped through and walked into the village, my hood pulled low over my face.

The note had said to come alone. It had said there was news, urgent news, about something that could not wait.

I did not know what I would find at the cottage. But I knew I had to go.

So I walked, my breath misting in the cold air, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of secrets pressing down on my shoulders.

Whatever awaited me, I would face it. I always did.