Lahat ng Kabanata ng Marked by Gold and Ruin: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 96

(DARIUS’ POV) I had been asking the wrong question. Whether Ronan would think I doubted him mattered less than how he learned of the Blackfangs. From me, with the reports in his hands and the facts laid out plainly, or from a burial party after another patrol failed to come home. I knew which of those I could live with. A letter was out of the question. It could be misread, or sit unopened on a desk for a day, or pass through three different hands before it reached him. And if the Blackfangs were truly moving, a day was more than I was willing to give them. Ronan held the Council now. Whatever I thought of him, this was his to know first. I closed the folder, gathered the reports, and called for my horse. The ride to Trueblood gave me too much time to think. I rehearsed what I would say, then discarded it. Every version sounded either like a warning or an order, and I was in no position to give Ronan either. In the end, I settled on the facts. Three patrols missing, two pac

(RONAN’S POV) I found Darius in the guest hall, standing at the window with a folder in one hand and his back to the door, like a man waiting for a verdict. He turned when he heard me. I took my time closing the door. “You’ve been waiting a while,” I said. “I know.” I crossed to the table and poured myself a cup of water I didn’t want, mostly to give my hands something to do. Elara had been shaking when I held her hand in that corridor. She would never admit it, and I had been stupid enough to let her go off alone afterwards. All I could do now was keep my temper where it belonged. “You spoke with Elara,” I said. “Briefly.” “I know. I want to say something about that, and I’ll say it once.” I set the cup down. “Whatever is between the two of you, whatever you believe about what happened, you don’t bring it into my pack. Not in the garden, not in a corridor, not anywhere. If she wants to speak to you, she will. If she doesn’t, you leave her alone.” His expression didn

(SOREN’S POV) It had been five years since the altar first spoke the name Starvale, and in all that time it had given us nothing new. Varek still ran the ritual every season. Three warriors, three cuts, the same faint silver in the grooves before it died out again. He always came out of the chamber looking older and sorrier than the time before. I stopped going down to watch around the second year. There was no point in watching an old man fail at the same thing. So when a ritualist knocked on my door before dawn to say the altar had lit itself, I nearly told her to go away. I didn’t, because I could feel it too. The pull I had learned to ignore was sitting hard under my ribs, and my wolf was already on his feet. I dressed and went down. ⸻ Varek was waiting beside the altar with his hands tucked into his sleeves. The chamber was cold, and the candles had burned low. “Alpha.” “What happened?” “Nothing was done,” he said quickly. “No blood was spilled. I want you to