Chapter 82: The Sanctuary

Seraphine's POV

One month. It'd been one month since the bread incident.

I knelt in the dirt, hands buried deep in soil that finally felt warm. Spring had crept in while I wasn't paying attention—ice melting, snow retreating, green pushing through like it had every right to be here.

The garden spread around me. Rows of herbs. Vegetables breaking through earth. Flower beds cleared of dead shit from last year.

My sanctuary.

My prison.

Still couldn't decide which.

"Seraphine!"

I looked up. Cordelia walked across the grass, basket swinging from her arm. Light blue dress catching the breeze. Hair tied back with a ribbon. Smiling that genuine, warm smile she always had.

Like I deserved it.

I stood, brushing dirt from my hands. My dress—simple, practical, nothing like before—had mud on the knees. Stains that wouldn't come out.

Didn't care anymore.

"I brought lunch." She held up the basket. "Thought you might be hungry."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

We settled on the grass near the lake. Water lapping at the shore. Peaceful. Quiet. The kind of quiet that used to suffocate me but now felt... safe.

Cordelia unpacked sandwiches, fruit, lemonade. Simple food. Good food.

She watched me as I ate. Not obviously. Just checking. Making sure I was okay.

I wasn't. But I was better than before.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Fine."

"Really?"

I met her eyes. Saw the genuine concern there.

"Really," I said. Softer. "This is better."

She nodded. Didn't push.

We ate in comfortable silence. Sun warm on our faces. Birds singing nearby.

"I confronted her," Cordelia said finally. "Vespera. About the bread."

My hands stilled on my sandwich.

"And?"

"She denied everything. Of course." Cordelia's jaw tightened. "Said she was only trying to help that day. That she had no reason to hurt those children."

Something bitter rose in my throat. "The teachers believed her."

"Most of them did." She looked at me directly. "But I didn't. Neither did Evander. We know what you saw—the open door, the moved pan. Too many things that didn't add up."

"But you can't prove it."

"No." The word came out heavy. "Without evidence, there's nothing we can do. And the teachers..." She sighed. "They didn't apologize to you."

Wasn't a question.

"No," I confirmed.

I took another bite. Chewed slowly. Swallowed.

"Doesn't matter," I said. "Even if they knew the truth, it wouldn't change what happened. What they said. What they think of me."

Flat. Empty. Not angry anymore. Just done.

Cordelia's hand found mine. Squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry. You deserved better."

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong."

We finished eating. Packed up the basket. Cordelia glanced at the small house behind us—the one that'd appeared three weeks ago.

"That's a nice place," she said. "When was it built?"

I followed her gaze. Wood still looked new. Windows clean. Smoke drifting from the chimney—I'd lit the fire this morning.

"About three weeks ago."

The memory surfaced. Sharp. Clear.

I'd been working late one evening. Too late. Sun had set. Temperature dropped. But I'd wanted to finish the herb bed.

When I was done, I'd been too exhausted to walk back.

So I just laid down. Right there on the grass. Closed my eyes.

Woke up to Kaelen standing over me. Face dark. Furious.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I'd blinked up at him. Confused.

"Resting."

"You're sleeping outside. In the cold. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I'd pushed myself up. Brushed grass from my hair.

"I was tired."

"So go back. Like a normal person."

"Your house is far. I didn't want to walk all the way."

His jaw had clenched. That muscle jumping. The one that appeared when he was trying not to yell.

"If you freeze to death out here, I die too. Remember that."

Then he'd left. Stormed off into darkness.

A week later, the house appeared.

Small but solid. One room with a bed, table, fireplace. Basic but functional.

Garden tools in a shed. Books on the shelf—all about plants, herbs, growing things.

He never mentioned it. Never acknowledged it. Just made it exist.

"Kaelen had it built," I said.

Cordelia's expression softened. "He cares. Even if he doesn't show it well."

I didn't respond.

The house felt like care. Like protection.

But it also felt like distance. Like keeping me separate. Away from the pack. Away from him.

Both things could be true.

"Tell me about your family," Cordelia said gently. "If you want to."

I stared at the lake. Watched ripples spread across the surface.

"My father was an Alpha," I said. Voice quiet. Careful. "Strict. Demanding. He had high expectations. Especially for me."

Truth. Partial truth. Enough truth.

"There was a betrayal. His Beta, Conrad, turned on him. Worked with our enemies. They came at night during what was supposed to be a peace treaty. Killed him. Killed my mother."

My voice cracked. I swallowed hard.

"My sister and I ran. We got separated during the escape. I don't know where she is now. If she's alive. If she's..."

Couldn't finish. Words stuck in my throat.

Lyralei.

My baby sister.

Somewhere out there. Or dead. Or worse.

Cordelia's arms wrapped around me. Pulled me close.

"We're family," she whispered. "I'm here. You're not alone anymore."

We sat like that. Her warmth against my side. The first real comfort I'd felt in months.

"Kaelen lost someone important too," Cordelia said eventually. "But I think he's trying. With you. The house. The garden. The books. He chose those himself."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. Sharp.

I'd read his journal. Seen his pain. His grief. His love for Isolde.

Violated something private. Something sacred.

And threw it in his face during that fight.

I'm not Isolde.

The look on his face when I'd said it. When he'd realized what I'd done.

Hurt. Betrayal. Something broken.

"He's been through a lot," I said quietly.

"So have you."

"That doesn't excuse what I did."

Cordelia pulled back. Looked at me with confusion.

I shook my head. "Nothing. Forget it."

Voices drifted across the grass. High. Young. Excited.

I tensed. Looked up.

About fifty meters away, children played. Running. Laughing. Their teacher watching from a bench.

The school's spring outing.

My body went rigid. Instinct screaming to leave. To hide.

Cordelia's hand found mine again. "They know the truth now. The children don't hold grudges like adults do."

I wanted to believe her.

But memory was sharp. Cruel.

Small faces twisted with pain. Voices shouting. Blames flying.

Even if they knew the truth, would it matter?

A shout cut through the air. Sharp. Distressed.

"My kite!"

A small boy stood frozen. Staring up at the sky.

A red kite tumbled through the air. String snapped. Wind caught it, sent it spinning toward the forest.

The boy started crying. "My kite! It's going into the woods!"

An older girl stepped forward. Maybe ten or eleven. Determination written all over her face.

"I'll get it!"

She took off running. Straight toward the lake. Toward where the kite was drifting down.

Toward the water's edge where the ground got slippery.

Recognition hit me.

Ember.