Chapter 72: Chapter Seventy-two

Chapter 72

Elena’s POV

The morning air was sharp with the bite of winter. I stood near the outer courtyard, watching as the torches burned low in their sconces, their flames dancing against the wind. The pack was stirring slowly, but something in the air was different, lighter, softer, as though the weight pressing down on this place had shifted ever so slightly.

Lia had told Edgar she was pregnant.

When she’d confided it to me the night before, her hands trembling as she held mine, I had felt my own heart leap in my chest. The goddess had not only bound them as mates but now had blessed them with new life. A child. Their child. It was hope, wrapped in fragile flesh and yet powerful enough to shift the course of everything.

I had gone to bed smiling for the first time in weeks.

Now, as I lingered outside the main hall, I caught sight of them through the doorway. Lia’s face glowed faintly even in the dim light, her features softer, her shoulders no longer as burdened. Edgar sat beside her, and though his body was still recovering, weak, thinner than before, he held himself with a pride that had been missing. His hand rested protectively over hers on the table, his thumb stroking slow circles as if to reassure himself that both she and the child were truly there.

I had never seen him look so alive.

The news had not been shared beyond the three of us yet, but secrets were brittle things in a place like this. Sooner or later, someone would notice.

I stepped into the hall, boots echoing softly against the stone. Lia’s head lifted, and when her eyes met mine, I saw a light there that made my throat tighten. She hadn’t looked at peace in so long.

“Morning,” I said softly, forcing my tone casual, though my chest swelled with emotion.

She smiled, fingers brushing absently over her abdomen. Edgar noticed, and his eyes flicked to me, sharp as ever, daring me to say aloud what we all knew. I gave a faint nod instead.

“Morning,” Lia replied, her voice carrying a warmth I had missed.

We spoke of simple things, whether the stores of grain would last through the cold moon, the patrols along the eastern ridge, the whispers of unease among the younger wolves. But beneath all of it was that undercurrent of joy, like a hidden stream rushing beneath the ice. Every time Lia shifted slightly in her seat, Edgar’s gaze followed, protective, reverent. Every time he winced from lingering weakness, Lia’s hand steadied him without hesitation.

They were tethered more tightly than ever, and I thought for the first time in a long time that perhaps, just perhaps, the goddess still watched over us.

But joy never walked these halls alone.

By midday, I wandered to the training grounds where the younger wolves sparred. Their laughter carried across the yard, a rare sound these days. Yet behind them, near the stone archway, I caught sight of Brie.

The old woman stood with her hands folded neatly before her, her eyes sharper than a hawk’s as they followed Edgar when he appeared at the far end of the courtyard. Lia had joined him, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her steps careful. It was subtle, so subtle most would miss it, but I saw the way Brie’s gaze dropped briefly to Lia’s stomach before flicking away.

My breath caught.

Brie had always been too perceptive for her own good. Age had not dulled her senses, if anything, it had honed them. If she suspected.

I moved closer to the archway, keeping my expression neutral. Brie did not look at me, but I knew she had noticed my presence. She always did. Her lips curved faintly, a smile that was more knife than kindness.

“She glows, doesn’t she?” Brie’s voice was soft, as though she were speaking to herself, but I knew the words were meant for me. “Some women carry secrets in their faces before they even realize it themselves.”

I forced my jaw to unclench. “Lia has endured more than most. If there is a glow, it is the goddess granting her strength.”

Brie’s eyes slid toward me at last, cold and assessing. “Perhaps. Or perhaps strength comes when one has something new to protect.”

The weight of her words pressed heavy on my chest. I wanted to bare my teeth at her, to demand what game she was playing, but I held my tongue. To show anger now would only confirm her suspicions.

Instead, I inclined my head slightly. “If that were so, it would only make them harder to break.”

Her smile deepened, though it never reached her eyes. She turned away without another word, gliding back toward the shadows of the corridor.

I released a slow breath. She knew, or at least she suspected. And if Brie suspected, it would not remain a suspicion for long.

That evening, I sat with Lia in her chamber while Edgar attended to a matter with two of the scouts. She leaned back against the cushions, fatigue already tugging at her despite the early hour. Her hand rested again, instinctively, over her belly.

“She knows,” I said quietly.

Lia’s eyes snapped open. “Who?”

“Brie. I saw it in her face. She noticed the way you move, the way you hold yourself. She is too shrewd not to put the pieces together.”

Fear flickered in Lia’s gaze, and she sat up straighter. “What do we do?”

I hesitated, then reached for her hand. “We stay quiet. The less we give her, the less she can use. But you must be careful, Lia. Every step, every glance, she will be watching.”

She nodded, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. For a moment she looked small, fragile, and I ached for her. But then her chin lifted, and I saw the steel beneath.

“I won’t hide from her,” she whispered. “This child is ours. Ours, Elena. If Brie thinks she can twist that into something ugly, she will fail.”

I squeezed her hand. “Then we will make sure of it.”

Later that night, as the moon rose over the courtyard, I found myself walking alone along the battlements. The wind was sharp, carrying the howl of a wolf somewhere in the distance. My thoughts churned like storm clouds.

Edgar was healing slowly, his strength returning piece by piece, but the council was restless. The attempt with the poisoned wine had only deepened the fracture between him and the elders. And now this, the possibility of an heir, would either strengthen his claim or paint an even larger target on his back.

I remembered the way his hand had covered Lia’s earlier, the fierce pride in his eyes. I wanted to believe that pride would carry him through, that the goddess would shield them. But Brie’s smile haunted me, sharp as broken glass.

I closed my eyes, pressing my palm against the cold stone.

If this child truly was the hope of our pack, then we would all have to fight harder than ever to protect it.