CHAPTER 37
AMUSEMENT FLASHED IN FIA’S EYES. She lightly scoffed, then turned on her heel, gesturing for her to follow.
“Close and lock the door behind you,” she said. “Shoes in front.”
Gratitude lifted Lenore’s spirits. “Thank you,” she said, her smile turning soft. Fia grunted in acknowledgment, disappearing back into her home.
As soon as her soiled boots were taken off, Lenore’s eyes swept across the interior.
Awe bloomed in her chest. Clusters of hanging plants dangled between the ceiling beams, adding a touch of life to the dark paint and wood that outfitted the walls and floors.
The warm glow of lanterns affixed to the walls amplified the large windows—shadowy silhouettes of nature visible through the glass.
When they passed under a curved archway, they entered a spacious living room.
At its heart lay a woven rug, patterned with wolves and botanicals, and surrounded by plush seating arranged before a stone fireplace.
“It’s beautiful here,” Lenore said. Each step she took was tentative, self-conscious of the dirt that caked her clothing.
Fia grunted again. She headed straight for an armchair, worn soft by years of use. “Always been too fancy for me.”
But just as Fia reached out to the chair’s arm, she crumpled, much to Lenore’s shock. Fia’s breath turned ragged as she held onto the armchair, her weight on one knee.
“Astra Fia!”
The Fia she knew withered right before her—weakness spilling through the cracks of her once sturdy form. Exhaustion deepened the lines on her face, her skin pale as beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“GRANDMA!” A shrill voice rang out—oddly familiar to Lenore.
Footsteps thundered down a set of stairs.
A young woman and a young man appeared, sharing similar looks of distress.
Lenore’s eyes briefly noted the blue locks of hair crowning both of them, her brows knitting for a fraction of a second.
A sudden fit of coughing wracked Fia’s body, and Lenore’s focus quickly turned back to her.
“You’re getting worse!” the young woman cried as she ran toward Fia.
Lenore stepped back as the pair knelt down next to their grandmother.
The young woman pressed a hand against Fia’s forehead.
Her voice grew angry. “It is worse. You’re heating up, damn it!
We told you so many times already to go to the healer! ”
“We’ll just have to drag you there ourselves,” the young man said. “Nobody wants you dying in the armchair.”
The young woman scowled, but her fingers trembled when she held Fia’s arm. “The armchair? She’ll die on the floor at this rate!”
“By the moon’s crescent, you’re making a damn loud ruckus,” Fia growled. She took a deep breath, mustering up the strength to glare at them. “Spying on the stairs? Seriously? You’re grown wolves already.”
“Stop grouching at us,” the young woman said. “We’re trying to save your life.”
“I’m fine, Gwyneth,” Fia muttered. The spark of realization hit Lenore when Fia said her name—she was the same wolf that had defended her.
“You and Cade had better stop fussing.” Grabbing her granddaughter’s wrist, she pried it off with ease.
Slowly, she stood up, muffling the occasional cough with a fist against her lips.
Shoulders set, she turned and faced them all.
Lenore frowned. The subtle strain in Fia’s clenched jaw and the strands of hair sticking to her damp forehead betrayed her confident posture.
A pit of worry sat heavy in Lenore’s stomach, and she wondered if she would only worsen Fia’s condition with the stress of her circumstances.
She placed the flask of moon nectar on the table.
“Astra Fia,” Lenore started. “You’re not fine. You’ll worsen if you try to push yourself like that.” Her voice grew small as Fia’s glare met her eyes. “Um... I think everyone just wants to take care of you?” Her shoulders shrunk. “I don’t know.”
“You’re worse off than me,” Fia scoffed. “Talking about caring for me while you look like filthy worn rags. The nerve.” She groaned quietly as she moved to settle into the armchair, falling back into its seat. She brushed a few strands of hair off her face. “Didn’t I say I’d visit you, wolfling?”
“I had an unexpected change of plans,” Lenore replied.
She tried to keep her eyes on Fia, hyper-aware of the fact that Fia’s grandchildren were outright staring at her.
Her fingers nervously stroked her hair, immediately regretting it when specks of dirt fell to the floor.
“I hate to ask this right now, but I need your help,” she mumbled.
Fia’s gaze stayed on Lenore, silent. Lenore spoke up again, afraid of the silence. “I... got into a bit of a troubling situation.” She clutched her right arm. “And I don’t think it’s something I can keep to myself any longer. I think... you’re the only one I can trust here.” Her head bowed.
Another beat of silence. Lenore felt like she was melting in agony under everyone’s unyielding gaze.
“What do you see?” Fia held the white raven between her fingers, the silver chain jangling as she lifted it up.
“Pardon?”
“I said, what do you see? What does this thing I’m holding look like to you?”
Lenore blinked. “Um, a little white raven? It’s really cute.”
Gwyneth snorted loudly. The same flash of amusement crossed Fia’s gaze again. “... Get yourself cleaned up first,” she finally said. “Do you really think it’s fine to give me a gift when you look like this?” She frowned. “I’ll be tasting more dirt than actual moon nectar.”
Lenore straightened up. “Wait—but what does that necklace mean?”
“It means you’re one of us, wolfling,” Fia said dryly.
“Oh. Uh, does—does that mean you’re willing to hear what I have to say?”
“It depends on how fresh your brew is,” Fia replied, a touch of humor in her voice despite her straight face. “And you can stay the night. Or multiple, I don’t care. You look like you need the rest.”
The atmosphere instantly lightened. “I know it’s not the tea I promised you, but I can save that for next time!” Lenore’s eyes grew wide like a doe, glistening with sheer gratefulness. “Thank you, Astra Fia.”
“Get those sparkly eyes off me,” Fia grumbled. “I’m hardly doing anything amazing.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Help her out, Gwyneth.”
“Yes, Grandma.” Gwyneth gestured for Lenore to follow her. She turned her head sharply toward her brother, walking backward as she said, “Don’t leave Grandma’s side, Cade!”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he replied.
Annoyed complaints left Fia as the younger women departed from the room.
Lenore followed Gwyneth up the stairs, careful not to let her dress spill more dirt than necessary.
Lenore peeked around, her eyes darting in amazement at the architecture of the house.
She marveled at the cozy charm that was captured in the decor that filled the grand space.
Houseplants were nestled in various spots, and she found the random small figurines of carved wooden wolves endearing.
Lenore blinked, realizing Gwyneth was staring at her as they walked side by side. She let out a small gasp.
“Oh—I’m so sorry. Where are my manners?” Lenore pressed a hand against her cheek in embarrassment, cheeks warm. “Thank you for taking me in. You’ve helped me more than once now.”
“Don’t keep count,” Gwyneth said. “That kinda pressure is only gonna bug your brain.” She grinned at her. “I have no idea how anyone could be scared of you.”
Lenore chuckled. “Some of them changed their minds once they saw I was only a Nyven.”
“Even a Nyven can be a Lucyn,” Gwyneth said. “Don’t underestimate any werewolf.” But her smile remained bright. “Even when you first arrived, I could just tell you weren’t some Lucyn horror-to-be. Grandma confirmed it.”
“Confirmed it?” Lenore asked. Her eyes flitted away in brief thought. “When she asked me about her necklace?”
“Yeah, but we all already knew what the answer was going to be.” She leaned in closer, forcing Lenore to pull back slightly. “We’ve been keeping our eyes on you.”
“H-huh?” Lenore stared back, completely befuddled. “What?”
Gwyneth laughed. “Nothing weird. It’s for personal reasons.” Her expression turned mischievous, her fangs peeking through her curled smirk.
“Personal reasons...” Lenore repeated. She was beginning to find Gwyneth odd. “Okay. Um, out of curiosity about who I was? Is it because I came from Arkhaven?”
Gwyneth shook her head. “Nooope.”
“How someone like me could possibly become a werewolf?” Lenore frowned. “Or is it about watching me bumble through living in a place like this?”
“Valid thoughts, but not the main reason.”
Lenore sighed softly in defeat. “I give up. What else could it be?”
There was a light skip in Gwyneth’s step, the twinkle of mischief enhancing her fox-like eyes. “You can’t think of any other reasons?”
Lenore’s brows furrowed. “No. But... I think I saw you once, before the assembly. You were the werewolf that was with Edmund during a sparring session, weren’t you?
” She glanced up at the taller woman’s dark blue layers of hair—a few shades lighter than Edmund’s.
“Is it because, uh, you caught me spying on all of you?”
“On all of us?” Gwyneth snickered. Her hands went to her hips. “Well, I did notice, because I’m pretty sure you were staring at my brother.”
Lenore paused. Her feet halted to a stop. Her jaw fell open. “Wait, WHAT?”
Before she got a response, the corner of her eye caught something. A portrait. There, standing behind a chaise that seated his siblings, was Edmund. Standing tall. Staring coldly back.
Lenore’s shriek echoed through the hall.
“WHAT?”
“I had my sneaking suspicions the moment you entered the pack with Eddy. The positives about growing up with him are knowing basically every annoying mannerism he has,” Gwyneth said. She waved at her, now grinning toothily from ear to ear. “Hello, future sister-in-law.”
Lenore was stunned speechless, her face immediately inflamed. The worst was that they had stopped walking, and she found herself cornered against the family portrait. Even though it was only a painting of Edmund, her back had never felt more self-aware.
“S-sister in law…” Lenore echoed. “Um, uh huh, right... sister-in-law…” She couldn’t make a coherent sentence for the life of her.
Gwyneth laughed heartily. “You are so shy. Werewolves usually have their mates’ ceremony pretty soon after they find their fated mate. We’ll be officially family, so get comfortable.”
“Mhm…” Lenore nodded stiffly, mind blanking out. “I-uh—I suppose... uh…”
“So? Did he confess to you yet?”
“N-no. We haven’t even really—um—confessed it out loud yet.”
“... What?” The air felt as if it had dropped in temperature when Gwyneth spoke. Her voice was calm but sharp. “That idiot hasn’t properly said anything yet?”
I can definitely see the family resemblance, Lenore thought before she tried to smile to ease the anger sparking off Gwyneth. “It would be nice to hear what he’d have to say about it.” Her gaze lowered, eyes soft. A pang of yearning ached in her chest. It would be more than nice.
Then a horrible realization dawned on her. “Then that means…” Lenore tugged at her hair, eyes wide, her ears matching the same redness of her cheeks. “Astra Fia... she knew? She knew this while I was talking to her?”
“Grandma knew it was you since the Upper Moon Feast. She said Edmund was staring at you like a man seeing the full moon’s beauty up close for the first time.” Gwyneth wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting.”
Everything fluttered inside her chest to hear how deeply mesmerized he’d been by her—just as she was by him. “Really?” she asked. Her head shook quickly after, forcing herself to focus. “Wait—so you’ve all talked to him about this?”
“Of course. It’s always funny to get a chance to see him lose his cool. And guess who caught him making a gift basket for you? I found it absolutely hilarious to watch him freak out for hours, agonizing over all the details. I was the one who suggested a jar of honey, by the way.”
Lenore held back the internal urge to let out a squeal. She was melting now, nearly falling to the floor in a flustered heap. Was he really thinking of me for hours?
Gwyneth playfully smacked the back of Lenore’s shoulder. “You did well coming here. We’ll protect you.”
All thanks to the One above. Lenore’s smile faded as her eyes trailed down the hall, staring at the line of generational family portraits on the wall.
Each of them were painted with figures that exhibited a strength eternalized into the canvases, beheld in ornate frames.
Their proud stances, their sharp eyes. Lenore felt completely unmatched.
Gwyneth’s hand stopped when Lenore asked quietly, “Aren’t I just a Nyven?
” She turned to face Edmund’s portrait, staring up at his handsome but steely visage.
“I know I have a connection to your family because of Edmund. But aren’t I…
just disappointing to you all? For me to run here—for me to be so helpless? ”
“Of course strength is practically the best trait for a werewolf,” Gwyneth replied.
“Hence our hierarchies, and all the prestige that comes from being higher up.” She looked at the portraits, then crossed her arms. “But we’re made strong to protect those weaker than us—at least, that’s how it should be.
If the Moon’s Sovereign made us all gifted fighters, then we’d lack what would make us more than just monsters. ”
Lenore felt a playful punch on her shoulder. “Besides, who am I to question what the Moon’s Sovereign has done—making you two fated mates,” Gwyneth added. “You must have the qualities to suit my brother.”
“... Well, I think I’ve been given a special endurance for his personality,” Lenore said. She smiled as Gwyneth laughed heartily.
“You’re thinking the right way,” Gwyneth said. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”