Chapter 14
Zera
Zera paced the bedroom, her heart pounding with frustration and anger. It felt like this had become a daily ritual—train with Maverick, argue with Maverick, then pace the giant bedroom while avoiding him altogether.
She cursed the carpet beneath her feet. It was his.
Everything in this room was—save for her makeshift lab and plant that had made as much progress as Maverick’s efforts on the Gareth front—and it just made her angrier.
She replayed the infuriating conversation with Maverick over and over in her mind.
How could he avoid her questions like that, refusing to admit there was something more between them?
And then he had the nerve to test her with the Whisper’s staff without even telling her why or how he’d gotten it in the first place. He could’ve gotten them all killed.
“Damn him,” she muttered under her breath, her lavender pixie eyes flaring.
A flicker of fear rippled through her every time she thought about that Whisper’s staff and how it had appeared in her hands this morning after that dream.
She knew Maverick had dreamed it too. She’d felt it through the bond the instant she quoted him, and his face had said as much.
A bond he refused to acknowledge, for fae only knew why.
Maverick had ensnared her, asking her for her trust, yet he didn’t seem to trust her when it mattered most.
Trust was earned, not given, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. But hadn’t he earned that each and every day since Gareth had sent those men to kill her and her family? How often had he gone out on a limb to save her?
She huffed. It didn’t matter when he kept the truth to himself.
But something he had said earlier kept popping up, making it hard to stay mad at him.
It was after she accused him of not knowing what it was like to sacrifice for your child.
She regretted saying that and calling him a coward the moment the words left her mouth, but she was so angry they’d slipped out before she could stop them.
But now, in the quiet of the serene bedroom cast in the evening glow of the setting sun that trickled in through the surrounding windows, his words echoed in her mind.
That thanks to her kind, he would never know what it was like to be a father.
What could have possibly happened to him at the hands of pixies that left such a deep, festering wound?
He was a Lunar werewolf, after all. They hunted pixies like her. What could they have done to him that would scar him so deeply?
Zera couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for her harsh words and assumptions.
She knew what it was like to be judged based on her kind, and yet she had done the same to Maverick.
It must have been difficult for a werewolf to live alone, rejecting his own kind.
There had to be more to his story, and she wanted to know.
These questions tumbled around in her conflicted mind, anger warring with curiosity and guilt. She owed him an apology, but she needed answers too. Before she could make up her mind about how to approach the situation, a soft knock at the bedroom door startled her.
“Come in,” Zera called out, her voice wavering ever so slightly.
The door opened slowly, and Maverick stood at the threshold, looking apprehensive.
The sight of his nervousness filled Zera with a mix of tenderness and frustration.
Even though they had been through so much together, why did it still feel like he was holding back?
Was there any way they could move forward if he continued to keep secrets from her?
“I’m ready to talk,” he said finally. “All I ask is that you listen to the very end first before making any judgments or decisions.”
Zera nodded, not daring to utter a word for the fear that he might change his mind. She motioned for him to sit next to her on the bed, and he did so.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering with a mix of sadness and regret. “First, I must explain how I know that the Whisper’s staff will only kill if the wielder wishes it. To do that, I must start at the beginning.
“The Whisper’s staff belonged to a pixie. A warrior,” he admitted, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability, yet his expression was unreadable.
“But pixies aren’t warriors, and the Whispers are just a myth,” she said, unable to keep quiet. Perhaps waiting to speak until the end had been too big of an ask for her to agree to.
She didn’t care. It wasn’t true. Whispers were a myth, and to believe any differently… Well, it would mean something terrible had happened because they didn’t exist anymore.
He chuckled bitterly. “That’s what they want you to believe.” He took a deep breath, apparently bracing himself for what he was about to reveal.
“I was barely sixteen when I met her, a magical girl with shimmering wings who danced between the cedar oaks of the Lunar forest,” he began, his eyes locked on hers.
“She called herself Seraphine, and she was the most beautiful fae I’d ever encountered.
I would sneak out of the mountains where our pack lived just to watch her dance.
When I finally got the courage to speak to her, she nearly vanished out of fear, but she stopped when I said to her, ‘In the tapestry of fresh morning dew, none reflect—’”
“‘The sun’s radiance quite like you,’” she gasped, completing his quote. “That’s from A Tale of Eramir and Alandria, a famous pixie fairy tale passed down the generations. It was my favorite as a kid. But how did a wolf like you know about this story?”
“As a child, I met a traveling librarian who passed through the mountains on his way to Pixie Hollow from whatever trade route he’d taken. He left me a book each time.” He smiled, his gaze distant, as if reliving a fond memory.
“I read fantastical stories that challenged me and expanded my horizons, and I realized the way my family lived… It wasn’t right.
” He scowled and looked off into the distance, the cityscape darkening in the setting sun.
“The one that convinced me the most was that book of pixie folklore. A tale of undying love that I’d never witnessed before, one that I craved.
‘A Tale of Eramir and Alandria’ changed me forever. ”
He paused before saying, “It still amazes me how words from so long ago can inspire such change. Even in a wolf like me, who was conditioned to a life of blood and hatred. How many books had it taken to persuade me that I could be more than a drone in a murderous pack? That I could do more and that my life could mean something?”
She felt the hopelessness in his words. The unspoken admission that he now believed these books had given him a false hope.
“That was just the beginning,” Maverick continued, shaking his head.
“Seraphine and I met every night for a year, and I proposed. I was a stupid boy in love with a snake. She told me she would say yes but that I had to come back to her village and ask her father for permission first, and I went. I never questioned her.”
Zera swallowed hard, having a bad feeling of where this might go. If the folklore of the Whispers was true, then she would be leading him back to her gossamer. He nodded, as if he saw the light bulb turn on in her head.
“They captured and tortured me for days. Weeks, even. All by the hand of Seraphine. The girl who supposedly loved me,” he growled, the betrayal evident.
“They wanted to use me as leverage against the Lunar Brotherhood, to return the alpha’s heir alive in exchange for the rest of the pack.
But they didn’t know my pack already found me to be a traitor with my books.
I was a pixie sympathizer to them and bait to the pixie warriors. ”
His laugh was hollow, the sound tinged with pain. “Funny, isn’t it? How love can blind you to the truth. How we can be so willing to sacrifice ourselves for someone who would turn against us without a second thought.”
Zera’s heart clenched at the pain in his words as she realized how deep his wounds were. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d welcome her touch. Instead, she managed to whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, his eyes darkening.
“I’d witnessed Seraphine kill innocent after innocent in front of me with that damn Whisper’s staff.
I pleaded with her to stop, that this wasn’t her, and that’s when she said to me that the staff will only let the wielder kill when it’s desired of them.
She demonstrated all of it. She paraded a pixie and another kidnapped wereling in front of me.
I’m sure you can guess which of the two survived.
She wanted to torment me and knew that my heart had grown soft.
It didn’t matter. No one would come for me. Instead, they took—”
He stopped, moisture suddenly misting his eyes, but he blinked, and it was gone, replaced with a hardness that made Zera’s heart ache.
She could see the walls he had built around himself, and she understood why he kept her at arm’s length.
Maverick had been through unimaginable pain, and love had become a dangerous territory for him.
She finally knew what he meant when he said that he would never have a chance to be a father, thanks to them.
Because the Whispers had taken that ability from him.
Swallowing back her own emotions, Zera reached out cautiously, her fingertips brushing the back of Maverick’s hand that gripped the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turned white.