Chapter 70: Chapter Seventy

Chapter 70

Lia’s POV

The whispers followed me like shadows.

At first, they were faint, harmless, little more than sidelong glances and hushed conversations that ended the moment I entered a room. But now they clung to the air, thick and heavy, impossible to ignore. The servants lowered their voices when I passed. Warriors paused mid-training to watch me with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. Even the councilors’ eyes lingered too long, their smiles too measured, as though they already knew something I was still trying to hide.

I had grown up with gossip. Every village had its share of wagging tongues, weaving tales from nothing. But this was different. This wasn’t idle chatter. This was deliberate, poisonous, and it had a source.

And I knew whose hand guided it.

Brie.

The old woman had been circling me like a hawk for weeks, her sharp eyes never missing a detail. At first I had thought her harmless, just another relic of a crumbling dynasty. But I should have known better. Brie didn’t need a sword to kill; she had her words, her whispers, her ability to turn suspicion into certainty.

She had seen me falter at the feast. She had seen my hand linger unconsciously over my stomach when Edgar leaned too heavily on me. She had seen everything.

And now the entire pack was seeing it too.

The hardest part was pretending in front of Edgar.

He was so weak these days, his steps unsteady, his breath shallow. Every ounce of my strength went into supporting him, holding him upright when he wavered, soothing his pain when it clawed through him. He needed me wholly, desperately. And I gave myself to him without hesitation.

But I could not bring myself to tell him. Not yet.

Not when the knowledge might destroy him. Not when he could barely endure the weight of his own failing body, let alone the storm that would come with the truth of what grew inside me.

So I smiled when he looked at me, smoothed the lines from his brow with my hand, whispered comforts when his chest tightened with pain. I lied, and I lied well. But inside, fear gnawed at me.

Every moment I was with him, I felt the eyes of others watching, waiting. Waiting for me to stumble, to give them the confirmation they craved.

The breaking point came during the council gathering two days later.

I had accompanied Edgar as always, guiding him gently to his seat. His fingers trembled as they gripped the carved armrest, his body slumping with exhaustion before the meeting had even begun. My heart ached to see him like that, but I steadied him, forcing myself to stand tall.

The elders droned on about patrols and supplies, but I barely heard them. My ears were tuned instead to the undercurrent, the tension, the weighted pauses. And then, as if on cue, it came.

Councilor Halrick cleared his throat and leaned forward. His eyes, sharp and probing, fixed on me rather than Edgar.

“Forgive me, Alpha,” he said smoothly. “But there are concerns among the council regarding the future of the pack. You grow weaker each day, and while we all pray for your recovery, it is only prudent to think of succession.”

Edgar bristled, but his voice was weak when he answered. “Succession will be discussed when it must. Not before.”

Halrick inclined his head respectfully, but his gaze slid back to me. “And yet, rumors abound. Rumors of heirs, perhaps sooner than expected.”

The chamber stilled. Every eye turned toward me.

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I wanted to speak, to deny it, to brush it off as foolish gossip. But the weight of their stares crushed the words in my throat. If I denied too quickly, too firmly, it would sound like guilt. If I said nothing, it would confirm their suspicions.

Brie was watching me too, her lips curled in the faintest of smiles.

I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze. “Rumors are just that. Nothing more.”

The councilors exchanged looks. Some smirked, others frowned, but none seemed convinced.

Edgar, gods bless him, reached for my hand beneath the table and squeezed it weakly, as if to shield me. But even that gesture felt dangerous. Every movement now was a weapon waiting to be turned against us.

Afterward, I escaped the hall as quickly as I could, the air choking me with its thickness. Elena found me pacing the corridor, my hands shaking, my breaths uneven.

“They know,” I whispered. “They all know.”

Elena shook her head, placing her hands on my shoulders. “They don’t know. They suspect. There’s a difference.”

“Not to them,” I snapped. “Suspicion is enough. Brie has poisoned their minds. She doesn’t even need proof. She’s already won.”

Tears burned in my eyes, but I forced them back. I could not afford weakness. Not when everything I loved was at stake.

That night, I sat alone by the window of Edgar’s chamber while he slept fitfully behind me. The moon hung pale and watchful, silver light spilling across the stone floor.

I pressed my hand gently against my stomach. There, beneath my palm, was the faintest swell, the smallest reminder of the secret I carried.

This child was mine. Ours. A piece of Edgar that would outlive him, no matter how soon death came to claim him. A piece of hope in a world so full of shadows.

But hope could be dangerous.

If the council confirmed the truth, they would use the child against me, against him. They would rip our lives apart in their hunger for control. They would not see this child as a blessing. They would see it as a weapon to claim, or a threat to destroy.

And I did not know how long I could keep them from discovering the truth.

The days that followed were worse.

Servants watched me too closely when they poured my tea. Warriors lingered near the corridors I walked, their conversations faltering when I drew near. Even the women of the pack, who had once offered me shy smiles, now stared with narrowed eyes, their whispers sharp with jealousy and suspicion.

Everywhere I went, I felt hunted.

And Brie? She thrived in it. She never accused me directly, never spoke words that could be turned against her. Instead, she wove her net tighter with little comments, well-placed glances, and the constant reminder of her presence.

She was playing with me.

I was caught in her game, and no matter how carefully I moved, she always seemed two steps ahead.

But I made a vow that night, as I lay beside Edgar, listening to his ragged breathing and feeling the warmth of his body against mine.

I would protect this child. No matter what it cost me. No matter how many enemies I made, no matter how many lies I had to tell, no matter how much blood was spilled.

This child was life. Future. Love.

And I would not let Brie, or the council, or anyone else steal that from me.