Chapter 4 #2
Soon, we’re deep in the forest where Daciana was attacked. The moon filters through the leaves above us, casting everything in silver and shadow. My wolf senses sharpen, picking up traces others would miss.
“Here,” I say, crouching beside a tree. Blood. Not Daciana’s. The scent is all wrong. This belongs to whoever hurt her.
Aaron kneels beside me, his eyes shifting to amber as his wolf rises closer to the surface. “The soldiers must have investigated after the attack. They would have found this trail.”
“And it probably led nowhere,” I say, studying the blood spatter. The trail is clear for perhaps twenty feet, then vanishes completely. No drag marks, no continued drops, nothing. Whoever orchestrated this knew how to cover their tracks. “That’s why we’re here.”
I stand, extending my hand over the droplets.
Magic flows from my fingertips, ancient and primal.
This is the gift of my bloodline, the pure hybrid magic that few possess anymore.
The air shimmers, and threads of silver light begin to weave outward from the blood, tracing a path invisible to ordinary sight.
“There,” I say quietly, following the ethereal trail deeper into the woods.
Aaron and Ferin fall into step behind me, their expressions grim. They know what I’m doing: using magic to track what can’t be tracked by conventional means. It’s a skill that sets us apart, that makes my pack both valuable and feared.
The silver threads lead us away from the attack site, winding through the forest in a serpentine pattern designed to confuse. But magic doesn’t lie. It follows the essence of the blood, the life force that once animated it, no matter how carefully the path it took was hidden.
We reach the edge of the forest, where the trees thin out near the main road. The threads converge on a spot in the underbrush, and there, partially hidden beneath fallen leaves and branches, is a corpse.
Or what’s left of one.
Animals have been at it. Scavengers drawn by the scent of death. But even through the damage, I can see this wasn’t natural decay. The body has been deliberately mutilated, carved up in ways meant to obscure identity.
The face is beyond recognition.
But I know. The scent, faint as it is beneath the rot and blood, tells me everything. This is the one who hurt her. The one whose poisoned claws tore into her flesh.
I think of the female alpha, one of the wild wolves that follow Daciana. The desperate way she clawed at my door, her whines frantic and urgent. I think of how I found Daciana, her body so cold, so badly injured, her blood everywhere. Too much blood. Far too much for anyone to survive.
But she survived. Barely.
Rage, white-hot and consuming, floods through me.
I reach down, my claws extending, and plunge my hand into the corpse’s chest cavity.
Its ribs crack under the force. My fingers close around what’s left of the heart, cold and lifeless, and I rip it free.
It turns to paste in my grip, oozing between my fingers.
I crush it completely, watching the remains fall to the forest floor like mud.
“Let the animals have him,” I say coldly. “His face is beyond identification anyway.”
Aaron and Ferin exchange glances but say nothing. They know better than to question me when my wolf is this close to the surface, when fury radiates from me like heat from a forge.
Aaron clears his throat carefully. “If they’re going after Daciana, then the Queen isn’t safe, either.”
The words cut through my rage, bringing clarity back. He’s right. The poison on those claws was very specific, designed to harm someone with Daciana’s unique bloodline. And if Daciana is being targeted specifically, that puts Astra in constant danger simply by being near her.
Astra staying alive is crucial. More crucial than anyone in the palace realizes.
“Agreed,” I say quietly, wiping my hand on the grass.
My mind turns over the implications. Daciana needs to be protected. She needs to be where I can watch over her constantly, where my people can form a barrier between her and this threat that keeps coming for her.
She needs to be by my side.
But to remove her from her duty to the Queen, to justify taking Astra’s personal guard away, I would have to reveal the prophecy.
The one that speaks of the Wolf Kingdom’s downfall, of the darkness coming for it.
The one that brought me here in the first place.
The prophecy I’ve kept close to my chest because revealing it would cause panic, would make me look like a harbinger of doom rather than an ally.
“They’re covering their tracks,” I add, gesturing to the mutilated corpse. “Whoever orchestrated this attack killed their own man to keep him silent. They made sure the physical trail would lead nowhere. That’s why the soldiers found nothing.”
“Professional,” Ferin observes grimly. “And merciless.”
“Let’s go.” The fury still simmers beneath my skin, but I channel it into cold determination. “We have what we need.”
I turn back toward the trees, my thoughts churning.
By the time we return to the palace, the sky is beginning to lighten at the edges, revealing the deep blue-gray that comes in the hours before dawn. The halls are silent now, even the night servants having retired. Only the guards remain at their posts, nodding to us as we pass.
I dismiss Aaron and Ferin with quiet thanks and make my way to my chambers. Sleep doesn’t come easily. My mind turns over everything—the mutilated corpse, the targeted poison, the prophecy I’ve kept hidden, and Daciana sleeping mere corridors away, still too weak, still too vulnerable.
When I finally drift off, my sleep is fitful and brief.
A knock at my door awakens me. Sunlight streams through the windows. Morning has come, whether I’m ready for it or not.
“Enter,” I call, sitting up.
A palace messenger steps inside, bowing low. “Alpha Kieran. Queen Astra requests your presence in her herb garden at your earliest convenience.”
My jaw tightens. Of course she does. Lucian has told her about last night, and now, she wants answers.
“Tell Her Majesty I’ll be there shortly,” I say.
The messenger bows again and retreats.
I dress quickly, choosing simple clothing. No need for formal attire for a meeting in a garden. As I make my way through the palace corridors, servants are beginning their morning routines. The smell of fresh bread wafts from the kitchens.
The herb garden is tucked away behind the palace, accessible through a small gate in the stone wall. It’s Astra’s personal sanctuary, I’ve been told. A place where she spends most of her time away from court.
Once I push through the gate, I pause.
The garden is beautiful in its simplicity.
Raised beds overflow with plants I recognize immediately.
Moonpetal for accelerating shifter healing, silverleaf for poison extraction, wolfsbane cultivated carefully for its medicinal properties when properly prepared.
There’s bloodroot for strengthening bonds between mates, nightshade for fever reduction in our kind, and dozens of others whose scents mingle in the morning air.
Astra kneels beside one of the beds, her hands in the soil, her simple dress protected by a worn apron. Her dark hair is pulled back in a practical braid, and there’s dirt under her fingernails. She looks up when she hears my approach, a genuine smile crossing her face.
“Alpha Kieran,” she says, standing and brushing off her hands. “Thank you for coming.”
I find myself admiring the garden again, the careful attention evident in every thriving plant. “This is impressive, Your Majesty. You have species here I haven’t seen outside my own territory.”
Her smile softens, becoming warmer. “Lucian planted most of these for me when we first mated. He built all the beds himself.” She gestures around the garden with obvious pride.
“I’ve been growing my collection ever since.
Every plant here serves a purpose. Healing, strengthening, protecting our people. ”
There’s no pretense here, no royal airs. Just a woman who loves her garden and the mate who helped her create it.
“It’s peaceful,” I say honestly.
“It is.” She moves to a small, wooden bench beneath a trellis where climbing moonvine grows. She sits, patting the space beside her. “That’s why I prefer to have difficult conversations here. The formality of the throne room makes everything feel like a battle.”
I join her on the bench, noting how her fingers absently brush against some silverleaf growing nearby.
“Lucian told me what happened last night,” she says, her tone shifting from warm to serious. “About your ultimatum.”
Of course he did. They’re mates. They tell each other everything.
“Then you know my concerns about Daciana’s safety,” I say carefully.
She nods slowly, her fingers going still on the plant. “I do. And I share them.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “Lucian also mentioned his suspicion about your connection to her.”
My jaw tightens. “That’s—”
“A private matter, yes. You made that clear.” She turns to look at me fully, her eyes direct but not unkind. “But Kieran, Daciana is more than just my guard. She’s my friend. One of the few people in this palace I trust completely.”
“Which is why she needs better protection than she’s currently receiving,” I say, keeping my voice level.
“Is that really why you’re so concerned?” Astra asks softly. “Or is there something else? Something you’re not telling us?”
I meet Astra’s gaze steadily, weighing my options. The truth will change everything. But if I want to keep Daciana close, if I want to protect her properly, I have no choice.
“I want Daciana to serve as a liaison for my delegation,” I say finally.
Astra stiffens, her expression hardening. “A liaison.”
“Yes. She would coordinate between your court and my people. Handle communications, arrangements…”