Chapter 33 CHAPTER 34
Elowen noticed the pattern before she wanted to admit it existed.
It wasn’t one thing. It never was. It was a collection of small absences, each harmless on its own, each explainable. Together, they formed something heavier than silence.
The first was breakfast.
She rose early, as she always did, expecting to find Darius already awake and moving through the chambers. Instead, the bed was empty, the bond faint but active—he was awake, alert, engaged. Somewhere else.
She dressed quietly and went down to the main hall. The smell of fresh bread and herbs filled the air, but Darius wasn’t there. Kael was, speaking with a patrol leader. The elders occupied the far table.
And Seraphine sat beside Darius near the hearth, a map between them, both leaning in as they spoke in low tones.
Elowen stopped short.
Darius laughed softly at something Seraphine said—brief, unguarded. The sound struck her like a physical thing. He hadn’t laughed like that with her in days. Not because he didn’t love her. But because he hadn’t been with her enough to.
She forced her feet forward.
“Good morning,” she said, voice calm.
Darius looked up, surprise flickering across his face. “Elowen. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
It wasn’t.
She smiled anyway. “I’ll have something prepared for later,” she said. “You look busy.”
“We’re just finishing,” Seraphine added smoothly, already gathering the maps. “I hope we didn’t delay you.”
“No,” Elowen replied. “Not at all.”
But she left without eating.
The second was the meeting she hadn’t been told about.
As Luna, Elowen was meant to sit beside the Alpha in all matters concerning the pack’s welfare. That had always been the way of it. A shared rule. A shared responsibility.
She learned of the meeting when she heard raised voices drifting from the council chamber.
Inside, Darius stood at the head of the table, the elders arrayed before him. Seraphine stood just to his right—not formally seated, but close enough to be included. Too close.
Elowen entered quietly. The conversation faltered.
“I wasn’t informed,” she said gently.
Darius turned, guilt flashing briefly across his face. “It was impromptu. I didn’t think—”
“I see,” she said. And she did.
She took her place anyway, folding her hands, listening as strategies were discussed and decisions made. She contributed when needed, her insights precise, her authority unquestioned.
But something had shifted.
Seraphine spoke more than she did.
And Darius deferred to her experience without realizing how rarely he now deferred to Elowen.
The third was the walk he forgot.
They had always walked the perimeter together at dusk. It was their ritual—one they had created early in their bond, a way to reconnect after the day’s demands.
Elowen waited by the gate as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in amber and violet.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Finally, she felt the bond stir—Darius moving quickly, purposefully, away from her location.
She found him later in the archive room with Seraphine, their heads bent close over old records.
“I thought you’d already gone,” he said when he saw her. “I lost track of time.”
Again.
“It’s all right,” she said, again.
He didn’t notice how often she was saying that now.
That night, Elowen lay awake while Darius slept beside her.
The bond was there. Warm. Alive. Still tethered.
But it no longer wrapped around her the way it used to. It didn’t pull him toward her automatically anymore. It responded when she reached—but it no longer reached back first.
She stared at the ceiling, breathing evenly, refusing to cry.
This is emotional neglect, a small, steady voice inside her said. Not accusation. Not blame. Just truth.
He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t unfaithful. He wasn’t rejecting her.
He was simply… elsewhere.
And that hurt more than anger ever could.
The pack noticed too.
They were subtle about it—respectful, even—but Elowen saw the way their eyes followed Seraphine now when she stood beside Darius. How some of them deferred to her instinctively, mistaking proximity for authority.
“She’s strong,” she heard someone whisper once. “Alpha-blooded,” said another. “They look… right together.”
Elowen walked past them without breaking stride.
Later, Kael cornered Darius near the training yard.
“You’re losing her,” Kael said bluntly.
Darius frowned. “That’s not true.”
“She’s still here,” Kael said. “That’s the problem. She’s holding the bond together alone.”
Darius didn’t respond.
Because part of him knew it was true—and didn’t know how to fix it without hurting someone.
That evening, Elowen finally spoke.
Not to accuse. Not to beg.
“Do you still see me?” she asked quietly as they prepared for bed.
Darius froze.
“Of course I do.”
“Not as Luna,” she said. “As me.”
He reached for her, instinctive, earnest. “Always.”
She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. The bond pulsed weakly, as if relieved—but exhausted.
“I just need you to remember us,” she whispered. “Even when everything else is loud.”
“I will,” he promised.
And he meant it.
But promises meant less when patterns didn’t change.
Down the hall, Seraphine sat by her window, watching the moon.
She didn’t smile.
She didn’t need to.
Everything was unfolding exactly as it should.