CHAPTER 215: STOWAWAY

The dark room said nothing to her and offered no answers. Serena blinked slowly and then sat up, holding her head in her hands as a low sigh fell from her lips. Elen’s face haunted her, echoing through every breath. She had not expected that kind of pain in the woman’s eyes, betrayal tempered with shame, a kind Serena was far too familiar with.

She had believed she was doing well. Hadn’t she? Hadn’t she handled herself in the garden, at the table, in the council chamber? But now every word she had spoken, every glance she had exchanged with Riven, every calculated pause clawed its way back to her. Had she leaned too heavily into the role of ambassador? Had she revealed too much, too soon?

She rubbed at her chest, the ache sharp and stubborn. If even one Dawnbreak wolf figured out what she was, what she had been, it would be disastrous. If Riven or Elen or any of their kin found out she wasn’t Crimsonclaw-born, that she was no more than a rained drenched exile masquerading in silk and grace, it would all unravel. There would be alliances, talk more of any sort of rebuilding. Only ashes and shame would remain.

Her hand drifted up to her neck.

That cursed place.

Serena traced the bare skin where a mark might have been had fate played her differently. There had been an execution order once. Charlotte had told her as much, just days before all of these mind games had begun. If Serena failed in any manner, if she exposed herself, if she endangered the deal, if she made the make believe East look weak, Silas would carry it out.

It wasn’t an empty threat.

And it wasn’t the first time her life had rested on a thread.

Just two winters past, in Silverstone, she had stood in the center of her council at the time, it was all so cold then. She remembered the shouting, the way her voice had failed her when the elder, who was her former mother-in-law accused her of murdering her dead husband. A blood debt, her former Alpha had called it, inherited from her father. But her father had sworn an oath, long before death took him, one that demanded his children be spared. And so she was exiled instead of executed.

Still, the memory of standing with her chin raised, waiting for judgment, never left her. That same sense of waiting filled the room now, thick and bitter. Her breaths grew shallow. The walls felt like they were closing in. Serena pressed her palms against her knees and tried to steady herself, but the panic came anyway, it kept eating away at her mind.

"I can not breathe," she whispered.

The room was too still, too silent. Her thoughts screamed louder in its void.

She stood abruptly and grabbed her cloak from the hook by the door. If she stayed here a moment longer, she would fall apart. Her mind raced, flipping through every possible distraction until one thought rose above the rest.

The Moonseeker.

She hadn’t seen the ancient priestess since the time she was summoned. Serena had barely spoken to her when they had the council meeting to finalise all preparation before the arrival of the Dawnbreak wolves. The woman had looked at her and seen something Serena hadn’t dared speak aloud. Poison in her soul, she’d said. A spirit that could not settle.

If there was anyone who could offer clarity now, it was her.

Serena hesitated at the door. It was the dead of night. She had no permission to leave. She didn’t even know exactly where the temple was, only that it sat north of the grounds, nestled in the slope of the hills where old trees grew thick and moonlight was said to shine brighter.

Her thoughts pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She could not stay any longer in her room.

Pulling her hood over her head, Serena slipped from her room like a shadow. The halls were quiet, save for the faint creak of old beams settling. She did not meet a single soul as she made her way to the side entrance that led out into the mist wreathed courtyard.

The wind was cold against her skin. Her breath clouded the air as she darted toward the stables, heart pounding. The night sky above was clouded, but the moon still found her, slipping through the veil to illuminate her path with silver clarity.

She reached the stables and paused only briefly to listen. The horses stirred softly in their stalls. She chose a smaller mare, grey, quiet, with intelligent eyes. She stroked the beast’s neck in silent thanks, then worked quickly to fit a bridle and light saddle.

It was foolish. Maybe even reckless and irresponsible. She had no escort, no directions, and no assurance that the Moonseeker would even see her. But Serena had lived her life on the edge of fear long enough. If her spirit truly was poisoned, if she carried some festering rot in her soul, then better to face it head-on than let it fester in silence.

She mounted with little grace, barely avoiding the edge of her cloak from tangling in the stirrup. With a soft click of her tongue, she urged the mare forward. She held the reins on the horse tightly. What a wonderful coincidence that the stablehand who seemed eager to please was missing today. Serena muttered a short thanks to the goddess and urged the horse forward.

The path outside of the castle walls was overgrown and poorly lit, but she pressed on, teeth clenched, eyes narrowed against the wind. A myriad of animals whispered through the trees, a sound both comforting and eerie. Her heart thudded in time with the horse’s hooves.

Serena chewed on the inside of her cheek. Toward the hills she rode, toward the temple cloaked in fog and legend. And behind her, the keep of Ironshade slept, unaware.