Chapter Four

Morning came over the Liaison estate so fast. The great house, built mostly in all stone and tall windows, caught the sunlight in a way that made it look inaccessible, like a fortress wrapped in wealth and silence. For most, it would have been comforting.

She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. The faintest hint of sun touched her cheeks, but she barely saw herself. All she saw were those eyes… the wolf’s eyes.. staring back from the morning before. They taunted her

She rubbed her hands together, restless, her skin was still buzzing with that strange, fever-hot energy. The house was waking; and she could hear the muffled and shuffling of the servants downstairs, the faint clatter of plates. Her father had told them days ago that they would have a family breakfast that morning. So she was expected to be there.

She slipped into a pale blue dress, it was simple compared to the silks dresses that her mother would prefer her to be in, she packed her hair into a loose bun. It did little to make her face look less tired. And by the time she descended the staircase, she felt too tired to be participating in family activities, it felt like every beat of her heart might give her away to them.

The dining room shined, as it always did. A long huge table stretched beneath a chandelier dripping with crystal. The sunlight came through the windows, catching on silver cutlery and polished plates. The bowls of fruit, trays of bread, and steaming kettles of coffee filled the table. It was a feast for a family of four that could have served a household of twenty.

Garrick sat at the head of the table, his presence was impossible to ignore. Even at breakfast, he still dressed in his dark morning coat, he looked every bit the man the city feared: a figure both admired and feared. But his eyes softened whenever they landed on Elara, she was seated gracefully at his right hand. He reached for her fingers with a tenderness that would have shocked his men, and he lifted her hand briefly to his lips.

“My little dove,” Garrick said when Irvine stepped into the room, his voice warm. And pride filled his expression as he gestured for her to sit at his left.

Irvine obeyed, sliding into her chair, but the warmth of his words made her stomach tight, she did not want to be his little dove. She caught Mara’s stare across the table, a stare that could stab her if given the chance, her stepsister’s lips curling into the faintest and coldest smile.

Mara, sitting with her glossy black hair and rigid posture, looked so much like Garrick in comparison to Irvine who looked like Elara, Mara was the daughter of Garrick from his first and late wife Sheila. Everything about her was controlled, from the way she buttered her toast to the measured tilt of her chin. But beneath that composure simmered something evil. Her eyes flicked between Garrick, Elara, and Irvine with a calculation that made Irvine’s skin crawl.

“You seem tired, sister,” Mara said smoothly, breaking her bread roll in half. “Up late celebrating your father's daughter hunt, I assume?”

Her tone was casual, but the edge was unmistakable. Garrick, oblivious or choosing to ignore the barb, chuckled.

“She held her own,” he said proudly. “My little dove struck true. And she will definitely carry my name well.”

Irvine knew he had lied, because she had hesitated, and it made the heat prickle her skin. Her chest tightened as the wolf’s eyes flashed through her mind again. Pride was what he wanted from her and she wasn't sure she could give him that. Because all she felt now was wrong.

Mara sipped delicately at her tea, her lashes lowering. “How fortunate for you,” she murmured. “Some of us never needed such a grand spectacle to prove ourselves.”

Elara’s fork paused against her plate. Her smile was warm, practiced, but Irvine caught the faint flicker of tension in her stepmother’s gaze. “Mara,” she said gently, “perhaps today we could keep the conversation light. It is a family meal right, not a sparring ground.”

Mara’s lips curved, all politeness. “Of course, Elara.” But her eyes remained fixed on Irvine, it was like she was passing a quiet accusation burning there.

Irvine forced herself to chew the bread, and to sip her coffee, though every swallow felt painful. She could hear Garrick’s voice rolling on about the future, about the importance of strength, about the example his family must set.

Her thoughts spiraled. What if her eyes glowed again? What if someone saw? The memory of the mirror lingered, sharper than any of Mara’s taunts. She pressed her hands into her lap, trying to keep herself still.

The breakfast was painfully long, and by the time the servants cleared the table, Irvine felt like she was barely holding herself together.

****

Later, Irvine sat in the quietness of the sitting room, and Elara found her. Irvine sat by the tall window, gazing out at the gardens but seeing nothing.

“My dear,” Elara’s voice was soft, careful. She approached like one might approach a nervous animal. “You had barely touched your food.”

Irvine turned, her throat tight. She tried to smile, but it faltered. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Elara studied her for a moment, then crossed the room and set a hand on her shoulder. “Something weighs on you. You know you can tell me.”

And the words spilled before Irvine could stop them. “I can’t stop seeing it. The wolf we hunted yesterday morning. Its eyes and the way it looked at me before it died.” Her voice cracked, raw with confusion. “It didn’t feel like victory. It felt wrong. And there’s more. I’ve been… I don’t know. I've been feeling very different and strange. My skin feels like it doesn’t fit in my body. And my heart is always racing fast for no reason. Also I keep dreaming of things that don’t make sense. And last night…” She hesitated, pulse thundering. “In the mirror, I thought I saw…”

Her voice broke off. She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit the gold she’d seen in her own eyes.

Elara’s hand tightened briefly, then grabbed Irvine’s hands to subtly pat her. “Dreams can be very powerful my dear,” she said softly. “And as for the hunts, they leave marks on the soul. Trust me you are not wrong to feel unsettled.”

“But it’s more than that,” Irvine whispered back. “It feels like something inside me is… waking up.”

For a tight minute, Elara’s expression changed. It was as though an old memory crossed her mind, it was like she had something she couldn't talk about.

And as soon as it came, it was gone, it was replaced with a calm smile. She tucked a strand of Irvine’s hair behind her ear, in a maternal and tender way.

“You are strong my child,” Elara said. “Stronger than you know. And whatever this is, you will overcome it. For now, trust yourself. And if the dreams come again, speak to me of them. I will always listen.”

Those words should have fully comforted her. And in some way, it did. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Elara was holding something back.

Elara's eyes had told Irvine something her mouth hadn't, that she was hiding something from her.