Chapter 9 #2
After a moment, I set her body down carefully and start digging, too. My fingers sink into the cold earth, pulling up handfuls of dirt. Tears drip from my face into the growing hole. My hands shake so badly, I can hardly grip the soil, but I keep digging.
We work in silence.
The only sounds are our breathing, the soft thud of dirt being moved, the quiet whimpers of the grieving pack around us, and my crying that won’t stop.
When the grave is deep enough, Kieran lifts her body with a reverence that makes my chest ache. He lays her in the earth gently, arranging her carefully as if she’s just sleeping. When he is done, we start covering her.
Each handful of dirt feels like a betrayal. Like I’m failing her again.
When the grave is filled, when there’s just a mound of fresh earth to mark where she lies, I sink to the ground. My legs won’t hold me anymore.
Kieran sits beside me and pulls me into his arms. I don’t have the strength to resist. I press my face against his chest and cry even harder.
The wolves settle around us, forming a protective circle. A few rest their heads on my legs. Others lean against Kieran’s back. We’re all mourning together.
“She protected me,” I finally whisper when I can speak. My voice is hoarse, wrecked. “At all times. From the moment I arrived. She was always there, always watching over me. But I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t—”
Kieran says nothing. He just holds me tighter, one hand moving to my hair, his fingers gentle against my scalp.
I cry until I have nothing left.
“I will find whoever is responsible,” Kieran says, his voice low and deadly. “And I’ll kill them.”
I want that. I want the person who did this to pay. But something doesn’t make sense.
“Why target her?” I ask, my voice hoarse from sobbing. “Nobody knows I can communicate with these wolves. Nobody knows they—”
“Somebody clearly does,” Kieran interrupts. His jaw is set, his eyes fixed on the grave. “They know of your roots.”
I freeze. “My roots?”
He hesitates, and I see a flicker of reluctance cross his face. Like he’s weighing how much to tell me.
“You’ve had the ability to communicate with wolves since you were a child,” he says carefully. “In your past lives, you could do the same. But back then, it wasn’t a secret. People knew.”
My heart starts to pound in my ears. “What are you saying?”
“Somebody else knows about your past lives.” His eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with a grim certainty that makes my blood run cold. “This was a warning.”
I stare at him. Then, I turn to look at the freshly covered grave, at the wolves still huddled around us, grieving.
“A warning about what?” I ask slowly.
“I don’t know.” His hand tightens on my shoulder. “But this was a message. To tell you they know. To tell you they’re watching.”
“How do you know it was a warning?” My voice rises slightly. “Maybe they were just trying to kill me. Maybe—”
“They would have known that you could suppress the female alpha,” Kieran says. “And that you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to truly harm her. This wasn’t about killing you, Daciana. This was about hurting you. About making you suffer.”
The words sink in like stones in deep water. He’s right. Whoever did this knew exactly how much it would destroy me to see her like that. To have to watch as Kieran—
“Who else knows?” I demand, wiping my eyes roughly. “About me being reincarnated. Who else aside from you?”
“Only two others. Two people I trust with my life.” His expression is guarded. “And clearly the gypsy witches, but they would never harm you.”
“Who are these gypsy witches?” The question bursts out of me. “You reacted so strongly when I asked you about them before.”
Kieran’s face closes off immediately. The same look he gets whenever I get too close to something he doesn’t want to talk about.
“I’m done with the lies, Kieran.” My voice comes out as a growl. “I want the truth. Now.”
He’s silent for a long moment, staring at the grave. Finally, he exhales slowly and starts to explain.
“The gypsy witches are the most ancient lineage of witches,” he tells me. “They practice the old ways of magic. The kind that existed before kingdoms, before written history. They’re the ones who can see the threads of fate, who can read the patterns of lives lived and lives yet to come.”
“And?” I press.
“Elara was a child of the gypsy witches,” he says quietly. “She was raised by them. Protected by them.”
The breath leaves my lungs. “What?”
“She was one of their own.” His jaw clenches. “Which is why they would never harm you. If the witches are right, and someone did curse us—cursed you and me—then that person would know. Or their descendants would know. About what you can do. About who you were.”
The implications crash over me. Someone from centuries ago, holding a grudge so deep it spans lifetimes. Or worse, their descendants, carrying on that hatred.
“Come on.” Kieran gets to his feet and reaches down to help me up. “We need to get back to the palace.”
My legs are unsteady, but his grip is firm. The wolves press against me immediately, whimpering, seeking comfort.
I sink back down to my knees and wrap my arms around as many of them as I can reach. They lean into me, their warm bodies trembling. Some lick my face, tasting my tears. Others just press close, sharing their grief and mine.
“I want to protect them,” I whisper. “All of them. I can’t—I can’t let this happen again.”
Kieran kneels beside me. He reaches out and touches each wolf’s forehead with his thumb. Magic pulses from his hand, subtle but powerful. I feel it wash over the pack, settling into their fur, their bones.
“I’m marking them,” he says quietly. “All of them. I’ll know if they are in danger. I’ll be able to find them no matter where they are.”
Relief floods through me so suddenly, I almost start crying again. “Thank you.”
He nods, then touches the last wolf—a young female who has been pressed against my side. She whimpers and licks his hand.
“They’ll be safer now,” he says. “But Daciana, you need to be careful, too. Whoever did this—”
“I know.” I stand slowly, one hand still resting on the young wolf’s head. “They’re not done.”
“No,” Kieran agrees. “They’re not.”
The wolves follow us as we begin walking back toward the palace. They stay close, a protective circle that shifts and moves with us through the dark forest. Some of them keep looking back at the grave, whining softly.
My heart aches with every step.
“The gypsy witches,” I say after a while. “Can we talk to them? Ask them what they know?”
“We can try.” Kieran’s expression is grim. “But they speak in riddles and prophecies. Getting a straight answer from them is nearly impossible.”
“Better than nothing.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Better than nothing.”
We walk in silence until the palace comes into view, its windows dark except for a few scattered lights. Most people are asleep. They have no idea what just happened out here in the forest.
When we reach the palace grounds, the wolves stop. They won’t come closer. They never do.
I turn to face them, pressing my hand to my chest. “Stay safe,” I tell them. “Please. Be careful.”
The young female steps forward and nudges my hand with her nose. Then, she turns and leads the pack back into the forest. The wild wolves disappear into the shadows, but I can still feel them. The connection between us is stronger now than ever.
“Come on,” Kieran says softly. “You need rest.”
I nod, though I know I won’t sleep. Not tonight. Not with the image of the alpha wolf’s broken body burned into my mind.
Kieran and I walk toward the palace together, and for once, I don’t pull away when he stays close. I’m grateful not to be alone.
We reach my chambers, and I stop at the door, my hand on the knob. Kieran stands a few feet back, like he’s waiting to be dismissed.
“You can come in,” I say quietly.
He hesitates, then follows me inside.
I move to the window, staring out at the darkness. The forest is a black mass against the night sky. Somewhere out there, she’s lying in the ground. Cold. Gone.
My hands curl into fists.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I say, my voice tight. “I didn’t ask to be reincarnated. I didn’t ask to have someone hunting me across lifetimes. I didn’t ask for”—my voice breaks—“I didn’t ask for her to die for protecting me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I spin to face him. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like everyone around me could pay the price for something I don’t even remember doing.”
Kieran sighs, but he says nothing.
I want to cry. I want to collapse on the floor and sob until there’s nothing left inside me. But I’m also furious. Rage burns alongside the grief, hot and vicious. I want to find whoever did this and tear them apart with my bare hands.
“I don’t want to die,” I say, looking Kieran straight in the face. “I need you to understand that. This time, I won’t. I refuse to.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes. Of hope, maybe. Or fear.
“I want to meet these gypsy witches,” I continue. “I want to know what happened in our first life. I want to know why someone would curse us like this.”
He nods slowly. “Alright.”
“Tell me about Elara.” The name feels strange on my tongue. “Tell me about the first life. Everything.”
Kieran moves to sit on the edge of my bed, his shoulders heavy. He stares at his hands for a long moment.
“I met her when I was injured,” he says finally.
“Badly. I was dying, actually. She found me and brought me to the gypsy witches. They healed me, but it was Elara who stayed by my side through all of it.” His voice softens.
“She was their daughter. Raised by them, protected by them. And we were fated mates.”
My wolf stirs at the words, but I push the feeling down.
“I won her over,” he continues. “It took time, but eventually, she agreed to be my mate. The gypsy witches gave their blessing. She was four months pregnant when we had our mating ceremony.”
Four months. The number makes my skin prickle.
“There was an attack during the ceremony,” Kieran says, his voice going flat. “Shifters came from nowhere. They cut down everyone in sight. We fought back, but so many died. I realized they were after Elara specifically, so I told her to run while I held them off.”
I remember that part. The dream I had—running through the forest, my hand pressed to my swollen belly. The fear clawing at my throat, the desperate need to survive, to protect the life growing inside me.
“She died,” I murmur.
“Yes.” His hands clench. “I got to her, but I couldn’t save her. The baby was already gone. Elara died in my arms.”
The pain in his voice makes my throat ache.
“I died from my wounds later the same day,” he says. “When I woke up, I was a child again. Born in the same bloodline, with all my memories intact.”
My breath catches. “You remembered everything?”
“Everything.” He looks up at me. “I spent years trying to understand what had happened. Then, I met another version of Elara. Different face, different name, but the same soul. We were fated mates again.”
“And?”
“She was four months pregnant when she was chased down and killed.” His voice is completely empty now. “I wasn’t there. I was on a hunting expedition. By the time I returned, she was already dead.”
Horror crawls up my spine. “Kieran—”
“I lived for thirty more years after that,” he continues.
“Then I died and was reborn again with memories of both previous lives. The cycle continued.” He stands abruptly, pacing to the window.
“In one life, I was careful not to impregnate her. I thought maybe that was the trigger. We spent seven happy years together.”
“But?”
“She got pregnant anyway.” His laugh is bitter. “We were so vigilant, but it happened. And four months later, she died. Just like all the others.”
I press my hand to my mouth. The viciousness of it. The cruelty.
“She was my last mate,” Kieran says quietly. “Eighty years ago. After she died, I swore I would never mark the next one. That I would stay away, keep my distance, refuse the bond entirely.”
“Why didn’t you ask a witch to figure out what was happening?” The question bursts out of me. “Why didn’t you try to break the pattern?”
“The gypsy witches retreated after Elara’s death.
They went to one part of the territory and stayed there.
” He turns to look at me. “I never approached them because I felt guilty. I felt like it was my fault that she died. It never occurred to me that it could be a curse. I simply thought…” He trails off.
“You thought what?”
“That it was our destiny.” His voice is hollow. “That we were meant to suffer.”
The revelation staggers me. All this time, all these lifetimes, and he just accepted it. Believed he deserved it.
“Destiny or curse,” I say firmly, “I won’t die.”
There’s a subtle change in his expression. “The gypsy witch I spoke with a couple weeks ago said they cast a curse upon the curse. And that the curse is weakening. But I don’t know what any of that means.”
I file away the fact that Kieran spoke with a gypsy witch recently. Later. I’ll ask about that later.
“I want to meet them,” I say. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll arrange it.”
We remain in silence for a moment. The weight of everything he has told me presses down on my shoulders.
“What does this mean for us?” he asks quietly.
I look at him. Really look at him. At the pain etched into his face, the exhaustion, the fear he’s trying so hard to hide.
“I’m angry,” I admit. “I’m furious that this is happening. But it’s not your fault.”
“Daciana—”
“I won’t be a substitute for any of my past lives,” I interrupt. “I need you to understand that. I am Daciana. Not Elara. Not whoever came after her. Me.”
“I know.” He nods. “I know that.”
I sigh and cross the room to him. I take his hand, and he looks down at our joined fingers like he can’t quite believe I’m touching him willingly.
“I don’t want you to have to relive this nightmare again and again,” I say. “So together, we’re going to get to the bottom of it. We’re going to figure out who cursed us and why. And we’re going to end it.”
He searches my eyes. “You mean that?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Kieran.” The words surprise me even as I say them, but they feel true. Right. “Not without a fight.”
His hand tightens around mine, and for the first time since this whole situation began, I see something other than pain in his eyes.
I see hope.