All Chapters of The Substitute Luna’s Revenge: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Jace’s POVWe reached the cedar grove before the sun had fully risen, mist still clinging low to the ground. A ring of guardians stood around the body, unmoving, refusing to let anyone step closer until the priest arrived.I dismounted and crossed to the center myself. No blood. No torn clothing. His weapon still sheathed at his hip, untouched. The ground around him lay almost perfectly smooth, no scuffed dirt, no bent grass, nothing to suggest a struggle had ever taken place here.“He looks like he simply laid down,” Callum murmured beside me, “and never got up again.”The healer knelt over the body, running careful hands along his throat, his chest, his skull. “No wound,” she said finally, sitting back on her heels. “Nothing. Even his wolf shows no sign of having fought before it died with him.”I crouched beside the guardian and lifted one stiff hand, studying the fingers. Beneath one nail, a dark trace of soil clung, different in color and texture from the pale earth surrounding

Jace’s POVI watched Kenna standing outside the council doors, the elder’s words still hanging in the air behind him, and waited for something in her face to break. It didn’t. She lowered her eyes, turned, and walked away without a single word of protest.Somehow that unsettled me more than if she’d shouted at every one of us.I returned to the chamber to find the remaining elders already gathered, waiting for Roland to speak. Instead, Elder Corwin rose first.“The situation has become impossible to ignore, Alpha.” He didn’t wait for permission to continue. “Three villages have refused food and medicine sent from this estate, simply because Kenna’s name is attached to the supplies. Fear is spreading faster than the sickness itself.”“Several families have begun their own cleansing rituals,” another elder added, clearly uncomfortable admitting it. “Rather than trust the temple’s guidance.”“There’s still no evidence connecting her to any of this,” I said, though I could feel the argum

Kenna’s POVNobody knew where Jace had gone. The whole estate buzzed with it by afternoon, servants trading half-guesses in low voices, guards tight-lipped whenever anyone asked. I kept my head down and my hands busy instead, helping prepare supplies for the temple’s blessing, hoping the ceremony might finally loosen some of the fear that had settled over Babcock like fog that refused to lift.The work went quiet whenever I passed. A few servants still smiled at me, still thanked me quietly for the village, for the sick children, for the herbs I’d spent hours grinding. Others simply looked away. I told myself I’d stopped expecting anything different, though some part of me clearly hadn’t, or it wouldn’t have still ached every time it happened.I carried blankets to the healer’s quarters, then joined Jenna in the great hall, where she moved through the servants with the same effortless warmth she always carried, drawing laughter out of people who’d looked half-frightened only minutes

Kenna’s POVI stayed in the garden long after the scholar limped away, rubbing my thumb over my wrist as if the mark might explain itself if I pressed hard enough. It had already faded back to bare skin, giving nothing away, the same as it always did.It recognized where it had finally returned.I didn’t sleep much trying to make sense of that.By morning, the whole estate had clearly heard what happened during the blessing. I felt it the second I stepped into the kitchen. The servants who usually chattered while preparing breakfast fell into careful, clipped conversation instead, voices dropping the moment I crossed the threshold. A maid set a basket of vegetables on the table and stepped back almost immediately, like she didn’t want to linger near me longer than necessary.Nobody said anything unkind. Nobody had to.I carried on with my chores because stopping felt like losing, and I refused to give this house that satisfaction. Fresh linens to the healer’s wing. Herbs measured o

Kenna’s POVI expected to spend the morning the way I’d spent every morning lately, head down, hands busy, avoiding the careful distance people had started keeping around me. Instead, Elaine found me before I’d made it far past the kitchen door.“Sit,” she said, already reaching for the eggs. “Help me with breakfast.”“You have servants for that.”“I have servants for a great many things I don’t want done.” She set a bowl in front of me without further explanation, and something about the familiarity of it, flour dusted across the counter, the particular way she cracked eggs one-handed pulled me back to mornings I hadn’t thought about in years, back when I was small enough to stand on a stool beside her just to watch.We worked in silence for a while, and it was easier than I expected, easier than most of our conversations had been in a very long time.“Whatever the pack is saying,” she said eventually, not looking up from the bread she was kneading, “you’re still part of this family.