CHAPTER 15

Elara’s Pov

Varick’s voice was a low, steady anchor. 

He stepped toward me, his shadow falling over me not as a threat, but as a shield. He reached out, his thumb catching the tear on my cheek before it could fall. 

His skin was warm, his touch as careful as if he were handling the most fragile glass in his study.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

I forced my eyes to meet his. 

The shock I had seen earlier was gone, replaced by a simmering, protective heat.

"It is not your fault that they tried to starve your mind just as they starved your body," he said, each word heavy with the weight of a vow. 

"But those days are dead, Elara. In the Vanguard, we do not hide knowledge. We do not keep our people in the dark."

He didn't pull his hand away. 

His touch grounded me, and my breathing finally began to even out.

"I will find you a tutor," he continued. "Someone patient. Someone who knows that a brilliant mind sometimes just needs a different map. It’s okay. You aren't in that hallway anymore."

I leaned into his touch, the shame beginning to ebb away under the weight of his conviction. 

After a few moments, the tightness in my chest loosened.

"When will they come?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. 

The tears had stopped, leaving my eyes raw but clear. I searched his face, needing to know if this was a promise for someday or for now.

Varick let his hand fall from my cheek, though he stayed close enough that I could still feel his radiating warmth. 

"I will have to find the right one," he mused, his brow furrowing. "Not just a teacher of letters, but someone who can teach you the history of the North and the laws of the Vanguard. You must know the inner workings of this pack if you are to lead it by my side."

I nodded, my heart swelling. 

"I'm willing to learn," I said firmly. "I want to know everything."

I hesitated, a different kind of hunger gnawing at me, one that wasn't about books or honey cakes.

I looked up at him, my gaze fixed on the broad set of his shoulders and the strength in his arms.

"Varick?"

"Yes, Elara?"

"Could I learn to fight, too?"

The room went deathly silent. Varick froze, his expression blank as if his mind had stalled. 

He stared at me, his icy blue eyes wide. 

It was the first time I had seen him truly speechless.

The silence stretched until the old, familiar prickle of doubt returned. 

Maybe I had pushed too far. Maybe a Luna, especially one as broken as me, wasn't supposed to hold a blade. But I remembered the woods. 

I remembered the terror of being hunted with nothing but my own feet to save me. I straightened my back.

"I want to be able to protect myself," I repeated, my voice stronger. "I don't want to be a doll in a cage, Varick. You said I wasn't one."

Varick took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding as he processed the request. 

The shock in his eyes transformed into a deep, simmering respect. 

He didn't laugh, and he didn't call me weak.

"You may begin when you are fully healed," he said, his voice low and incredibly serious. 

"And any time afterward, for as long as you wish. If you want to hold a blade, the Vanguard will ensure you are the sharpest one in the room."

A radiant heat bloomed in my chest. 

Without thinking, I threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in the dark, scent-heavy fur of his vest. 

"Thank you, Varick," I muffled against him.

He stiffened for a heartbeat, clearly unused to such sudden affection, before his large, heavy hand came up to rest on my head. He stroked my hair with a tenderness that felt like a silent prayer.

The peace was shattered instantly. 

The heavy doors didn't just open; they slammed against the stone walls.

Crack.

"Alpha! The scouts from the Eastern pass just—"

A man with sharp, hawk-like features and wind-blown hair skidded to a halt. 

Dressed in light leather armor and clutching a map, he looked as if he’d run halfway across the territory. 

He froze, his jaw dropping at the sight of the most feared Alpha in the North gently petting the hair of the girl hugging him like a lifeline.

"Oh," the man blinked, his eyes darting between Varick's murderous glare and my wide-eyed stare. "I... I see the rumors about the mate weren't exactly exaggerated."

Varick’s hand didn't move from my head, but his voice dropped into a terrifying, low growl that made the glass globes on the shelves rattle.

"Kaelen," Varick hissed. "I believe I taught you how to knock before you reached the rank of Beta."

Kaelen swallowed hard, his chest heaving. 

He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or perhaps something more shocking: a soft look on his Alpha’s face.

"Alpha!" Kaelen managed, quickly dropping his gaze to the floor. "Forgive the intrusion, but the situation at the border couldn't wait."

Varick’s hand remained on my head for one last lingering second, a silent reassurance, before he straightened. 

The warmth in the room evaporated, replaced by the cold, sharp edge of a commander.

"Speak, Kaelen," Varick commanded, his voice like grinding stone.

"The scouts from the Eastern pass just sent word," the Beta said, stepping forward and spreading a crumpled map over the edge of the desk. "A large group of refugees has been spotted.”

“They’re making their way directly toward our territory. Women, children, and a few wounded. They look like they’ve been traveling for weeks, Alpha. They’re crossing the Frost-Line as we speak."