Chapter 13
Harkan
Something changed, and I had no idea what.
Sable walked beside me through the forest, close enough to touch but she might as well have been miles away. Her shoulders were rigid, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her jaw set in a line that dared me to ask what was wrong.
I didn't ask.
But the wolf inside me was going insane.
She's upset, he whined. She's hurting. Why won't she let us help? Yesterday she KISSED us and now—
Now she looked at me like I was a stranger. Worse—like I was a threat she was still figuring out how to deal with.
I kept replaying the last twenty-four hours in my head, searching for the moment everything shifted. She'd kissed me. Soft and tentative and tasting of tears, but she'd kissed me. Had fallen asleep with her hand in mine, had looked at me like maybe—maybe—she was starting to trust me.
Then she'd woken up with her walls slammed back into place, and I was back at square one.
What did we DO? the wolf demanded.
I wished I knew.
Trouble rode her shoulder, his amber eyes flicking between us like he knew exactly what was happening and found it exhausting. The little fox had been different since the temple—calmer, more settled, his foxfire burning steady instead of flickering with anxiety.
The temple.
I still didn't have words for what I'd witnessed there.
Shifters felt the magic in that sacred space. We'd held the Mating Moon ceremony at Tharos' temple for centuries precisely because of the power that thrummed through those stones. But I'd never seen it respond to anyone the way it had responded to her.
The wards she'd woven—silver and gold and foxfire, blazing around the clearing like a declaration of war—those weren't normal protections. They were something else entirely. Something ancient and wild and powerful beyond anything I'd seen a witch produce.
And when her blood had hit the ground...
The wolf shuddered at the memory. The stones had sung. Every ouroboros carving had flared with light, reaching for her, welcoming her, claiming her as one of their own.
She belongs there, the wolf said quietly. She belongs to that place.
The thought should have unsettled me. Instead, it felt right. Inevitable. Like recognizing something I'd always known but never had words for.
My father wanted her. Wanted her gift, her power, whatever it was that made her valuable enough to send a Devourer into my territory. I'd assumed it was just the truth-tasting: a useful tool for rooting out disloyalty and lies.
Now I wasn't so sure.
What if her gift was more than just truth-tasting? What if there was something else—something in her bloodline, her magic, her connection to Tharos—that made her valuable beyond anything I'd imagined?
And that thought made my blood run cold.
"We should reach the stronghold within the hour," I said, breaking the silence more to distract myself than anything else.
Sable nodded once, but she didn't so much as twitch in my direction.
Ask her, the wolf urged. Ask what's wrong. Fix it.
But I'd learned enough about this woman to know that pushing would only make her pull farther away. She was like a wild thing—approach too fast and she'd bolt. Show too much interest and she'd assume it was a trap.
So I matched her silence, even though it was killing me.
My gaze dropped to her hand—the one resting on her bag strap—and I noticed the ring for the first time.
Silver band. Dark stone that seemed to drink the light. It sat on her finger like it had always been there, but I was certain she hadn't been wearing it before.
"That's new," I murmured.
For a moment, I thought she wouldn't answer. Then her fingers flexed, unconsciously protective.
"It was my mother's." Her voice was flat, guarded. "The box you saved from the fire. This was inside."
The box she hadn’t been able to bring herself to open. She'd finally opened it—at the temple, while her blood was soaking into sacred ground and the wards were blazing to life around her.
"Did you find what you needed?" I asked.
Something flashed across her face—grief, maybe, or something softer beneath the armor she was wearing. "I found a message. From her. She left it for me, somehow. Spelled into the stone."
A message from beyond the grave. No wonder she'd been on her knees, weeping.
"What did she say?" I pressed, trying to keep her talking.
The silence stretched so long I thought she wouldn't answer. Then, quietly: "She told me to trust myself. To trust my power." A bitter edge crept into her voice. "And that she forgave me. For everything."
I wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her close and tell her that forgiveness was what mothers did, that she didn't need to carry that guilt anymore, that…
But I knew firsthand that those words would be meaningless. If I wouldn’t accept them myself, I highly doubted she would, either. It would just be another platitude tossed into the sea of her grief, only to immediately drown.
"She sounds like she loved you very much."
"She did." Sable's jaw tightened. "And I failed her, anyway."
Before I could respond, she quickened her pace, putting distance between us as she marched toward the compound.
Let her go, the wolf said reluctantly, his pain at her refusal lancing through my chest. She'll come back when she's ready.
He might have been lying to himself, but I just hoped he was right.
The stronghold came into view as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Guards at the gate straightened as we approached, their eyes tracking Sable with a respect that hadn't been there a few days ago.
Word had spread about the explosion. About her survival. About the wards she'd laid that morning—wards that were apparently still blazing so bright other witches in the territory could feel them.
She was becoming a legend, and she didn't even realize it.
Cara met us in the courtyard, her winter-gray eyes sharp as they swept over both of us.
"The wards," she said without preamble. "Half the pack felt them go up. What the fuck happened out there?"
Sable's expression didn't change. "I warded the ceremony space, exactly what I said I’d do. "
Cara’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. "You didn't say you'd set off a magical earthquake that every sensitive within a fifty-mile radius would notice."
Sable’s lips curved for a second before all expression was wiped from her face once again. "Consider it a bonus."
Cara lifted a single brow, her stance unmoving. She looked at me, clearly expecting an explanation.
I had none to give.
"The wards will hold," I said instead. "Nothing's getting through them."
Hell, I hadn’t been sure I could’ve walked through them if Sable hadn’t been with me. There was protection, and then there was… that.
"Nothing mortal, maybe." Cara's gaze flicked back to Sable. "But the Devourer isn't mortal. And your father—"
"We'll discuss it later." I cut her off before she could say more. Sable didn't need to hear about my father's interest in her. Not yet. Not when she was already pulling away.
Cara's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "There's food in the hall. You both look like you need it."
It was a dismissal wrapped in concern. I appreciated both.
Sable was already moving toward the main building, Trouble still perched on her shoulder. She didn't look back. Didn't acknowledge me at all.
What did we DO?
She disappeared into the main building, the question burning in my chest. Then I turned and went to find answers.
Cara fell into step beside me before I'd made it halfway across the courtyard. She always did have a knack for sensing when something was wrong.
"You look like shit," she muttered, her gaze boring a hole in the side of my face.
"Gee, thanks. Tell me how you really feel, only, don’t sugarcoat it this time."
She let out a quiet snort as she elbowed me in the ribs. "What happened out there? And don't you dare give me the bullshit diplomatic version. The truth, Harkan."
"I don't know." I ran a hand through my hair. "That's the problem. I don't know what the fuck happened."
She studied me for a moment, then changed direction. "We need reinforcements. Thea's in the healer's quarters. Let's go."
I didn't argue.
Thea was grinding something pungent in a mortar when we entered, her golden eyes flicking up as I closed the door behind us.
"What happened at the temple?" she asked immediately. "The real version, not the one for pack ears. Because if you give me the ‘she warded the temple’ bullshit, I will scratch your eyes out. Spill. It."
I ran a hand over my face, trying to find words for something that defied explanation.
"Oh, she warded the space. But it was...
so much more than that. The temple… it almost…
answered to her. As soon as she stepped one fucking toe onto that land, the stones lit up.
The ouroboros carvings. Everything—" I stopped, shaking my head.
"It was as if she was communing with it, speaking to it. I've never seen anything like it."
Thea set down her pestle. "Tharos' temple claimed a witch?"
I wasn’t sure if the temple claimed her or the other way around, but… "It looked like it, yeah."
"Interesting." The leopard healer's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "That doesn't happen. The temple tolerates witches, same as it tolerates all magic-users. But claiming one? That's... significant."
"No shit."
Cara's gaze sharpened. "Is that what's bothering you? The temple?"
"I wish." I huffed out a bitter laugh, then forced the words out.
"Something's wrong with Sable." I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"Yesterday, after the explosion—I managed to grab her bag before we got out.
It had her mother's things in it. The grimoire, the scrying mirror, sentimental pieces she thought she'd lost forever. "
Cara was quiet for a beat. "That's... significant."
"She kissed me." I let that land. "And it wasn’t the bond pulling at her. She kissed me, and she meant it. She was starting to trust me."
"And now?" Thea prompted, waiting for the punchline.