Chapter 69: Chapter Sixty-nine

Chapter 69

Brie’s POV

Patience is an art few wolves learn. Most crave blood at the first scent of weakness, but I, I savor the waiting. A predator who lunges too soon loses its prey. But one who waits in the grass, silent and still, is never disappointed.

And I could smell Lia Mason’s weakness blooming like a garden after rain.

She thought herself clever, concealing her condition. She held her hand discreetly over her stomach when she sat, pressed her lips tightly together whenever waves of nausea threatened to betray her. She drank water instead of wine, ate in careful portions, excusing herself with words about Edgar’s appetite instead of her own.

To the eyes of fools, she was simply devoted. To mine, she was a woman carrying life.

But suspicion alone is a blunt blade. I required more.

I began with whispers.

At the council meeting three nights after my talk with Malrick, I leaned lightly on my cane and spoke as though idly, when the agenda had nearly concluded.

“Our Alpha grows weaker,” I said. “It is the way of all men, to decline in their season. Yet strength may come to this house in unexpected ways. New roots, new heirs…”

I let my eyes sweep the room deliberately, settling not on Edgar, but on Lia.

She froze. Only for a heartbeat, but it was enough. She lowered her gaze swiftly, but not before I caught the flash of fear in her eyes.

The other councilors shifted, uncertain, glancing between her and me. Some chuckled awkwardly, dismissing my words as the ramblings of an old woman. But Malrick met my gaze with a sharp smile, understanding the knife hidden in my tone.

Lia said nothing, of course. But silence can be as loud as a scream.

That night, I took a different path through the keep, one that led me near the healer’s quarters.

Old Mara had served this house since before Edgar’s birth. Her loyalty was to herbs, not politics. That was what made her dangerous. If Lia suspected her secret was slipping, she might seek the healer’s counsel, and Mara, foolish in her honesty, would confirm it to anyone who asked.

I could not allow that.

So I stopped in Mara’s chamber, bringing a basket of dried lavender, claiming it was for Edgar’s rest. She smiled gratefully, and I sat with her for an hour, listening to her tales of herbs, of treatments. I asked many questions, none directly about pregnancy, but my presence alone was enough reminder, she was being watched.

When I left, I knew she would think twice before aiding Lia. The girl would find no comfort there.

Still, I wanted proof, and proof requires pressure.

So I waited until the gathering in the great hall, when the wolves feasted despite the grim shadow of Edgar’s illness. I arranged for the servants to place roasted venison before him, rich and heavy with spices. And then, just as expected, Lia leaned forward, her hand fluttering toward the platter, her eyes tightening.

The scent was too strong.

She excused herself hurriedly, almost stumbling in her haste to leave. Elena rose to follow, but I laid a hand lightly on her arm and said, in a voice pitched just loud enough for the nearest tables to hear

“Poor thing. It must be difficult for her… certain smells become unbearable when one is with a child.”

The silence that fell was exquisite.

Elena bristled, denying it immediately, but the damage was done. Wolves thrive on rumor, and I had just thrown meat to the pack. Whispers would spread faster than fire in dry grass.

By the time Lia returned, pale and trembling but trying to smile, the hall was alive with sidelong glances and murmurs. She felt them, I could see it in the stiffness of her spine, the way she refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

She knew.

The following morning, I stood at my window, watching the courtyard as Lia walked with Edgar, supporting his faltering steps. She was tender with him, more tender than he deserved. But her hand lingered protectively near her stomach, as if even unconsciously she shielded what lay within.

Confirmation enough.

I tapped my cane against the stone, slow and deliberate.

If she was indeed carrying Edgar’s child, then the council must be prepared. Edgar’s death would no longer leave a void for us to fill, it would leave a legacy that would rally the pack against us.

But a legacy can be strangled in its cradle.

I was not yet certain which path I would take. Sometimes destruction is necessary; other times, preservation serves better, if one can mold the heir to their own purpose. A child is malleable, easier to twist than a grown Alpha.

The decision did not need to be made today. What mattered was that I held the knowledge.

Knowledge is power.

And Lia Mason had just given me more power than she could possibly imagine.

Still, I wanted to be sure the girl felt the noose tightening. Fear makes mistakes bloom.

That evening, as she left Edgar’s chamber to fetch water, I intercepted her in the corridor. She startled, nearly dropping the jug, but quickly lowered her eyes in the manner of false respect.

“Lady Brie,” she murmured.

I studied her, letting the silence stretch. Then I reached out and placed a withered hand lightly on her arm. My voice was soft, almost kind.

“You should take better care, my dear. Your strength will be needed, especially if you are carrying more than your own life within you.”

Her breath caught. She tried to speak, failed, then shook her head. “I, I don’t know what you mean.”

But her pulse raced under my fingers, and her eyes betrayed her.

I smiled faintly, patted her arm, and walked on without another word.

The silence I left behind was more damning than any accusation.

By the time the moon rose full, the whispers had grown louder. Servants spoke behind their hands, warriors exchanged knowing glances, and even the councilors eyed her with sharp curiosity. Edgar, blind to it all or perhaps simply too weak to care, leaned heavier on her shoulder each day, oblivious to the storm gathering around them.

And I? I waited.

I would not need to strike. The pack would do it for me. Wolves are not kind to secrets, especially when those secrets threaten their grip on power.

The girl thought she could hide her pregnancy. But by the goddess, I would make sure it consumed her instead.