7
The moment Rylan returned to Ashmoor, he felt the shift.
The castle—usually stiff with structure and ritual—buzzed with something less visible. Whispers. Glances exchanged in the halls. Servants who bowed too quickly, nobles who suddenly paused when he entered the room.
He knew this feeling.
The scent of gossip was as sharp as blood in the air.
Still, he said nothing.
Not until he reached the war room—its stone walls lined with ancient tapestries, the air always smelling faintly of smoke and steel.
There, leaning over a map of the borderlands, stood Lord Halden—his most trusted advisor since his father’s reign. A wolf too old to shift anymore but twice as dangerous.
“You’ve been gone three days,” Halden said without looking up.
“I needed space,” Rylan replied.
Halden looked at him now, eyes narrowing. “You don’t usually take space in rural villages with no strategic value.”
Rylan’s jaw tensed. “Is this an interrogation?”
“It’s concern,” Halden corrected. “Because a royal patrol reported seeing you with a child. A little girl. They said she called you ‘Daddy.’”
The room stilled.
Rylan didn’t speak.
Halden stepped closer. “Tell me it’s not true.”
Rylan met his gaze, unwavering. “She’s mine.”
The older man cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his graying hair. “Gods help us.”
“She’s not a threat,” Rylan said evenly. “She’s… five. She’s brilliant. Strong. She’s—”
“A bastard,” Halden snapped. “And the moment this gets out, half the court will demand a blood test. The other half will want her dead. You know how they are with succession. Your council barely tolerates the idea of you mating with someone outside noble blood. A secret heir from a village girl?”
“She’s not a secret anymore.”
“No. She’s a weapon.”
That word ignited something in Rylan. “She is not a weapon. She’s my daughter.”
Halden paced, teeth gritted. “Do you understand what you’ve just confirmed? If the Blood Moon Council hears about her, they’ll see it as an opening to challenge your rule. Declare her illegitimate. Demand you marry into one of the pureblood families to ‘correct’ the line.”
“I’d burn the council to the ground first.”
Halden paused, voice low. “And what of the girl’s mother?”
Rylan’s throat tightened.
Evanna.
“She raised Lyra alone. Protected her. I won’t let them take her away from either of us.”
“So, what is your plan?” Halden asked. “Announce them? Hide them?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s the problem,” Halden muttered. “The clock’s ticking, and wolves are already circling.”
Later that night, Rylan stood alone in the observatory, watching the moon rise over the pine-covered hills. His fists were clenched at his sides. He felt the pressure building—duty pressing against devotion, politics threatening the peace he’d just begun to feel.
He had waited years to feel something again. To matter beyond the throne.
And now he did.
A girl who called him Daddy.
A woman who once trusted him enough to give him everything.
And a choice that could either protect them…
…or destroy them.
Meanwhile, back in Bramble Glen, Lyra sat on the floor of her bedroom, brushing the mane of a worn stuffed wolf. She looked up at her mother with sleepy eyes.
“Mommy,” she whispered, “is Daddy going to come back?”
Evanna tucked the blanket around her shoulders, heart breaking a little more with every beat. “I don’t know, baby.”
Lyra frowned. “I think he will. I dreamed it again.”
Evanna blinked. “What did you see?”
Lyra leaned in and whispered, “A castle. But it was on fire.”