Chapter 163: Chapter 163
Ophelia’s POV
‘Do not worry, little starling,’ Damien assured me. He had the unyielding, ruthless tone of an Alpha King whose family had been threatened. ‘If the child ends up being the one behind our current troubles, I shall bring an end to her myself.’
Pardon?
“Moonlight,” he said aloud, barely a step past the doorway. I had already cast the muting spell around us the moment he pushed the manor door open, some instinct warning me that whatever came next would need privacy. Then I struck him hard across the shoulder. He simply stared at me, unfazed. “What was that for?”
“What do you mean, you shall bring an end to her yourself?” I demanded, stepping in front of him so he could not simply walk past me. “She is a child, Damien. As young as Casimir, if not younger.”
“One who might have caused the death of three of our kind, Ophelia,” he said pointedly. He stepped closer, his scent flaring. It was a heavy, suffocating mix of pine, and dominant Alpha testosterone that demanded submission from anyone else. “Three grown trackers were found drained, with their throats torn.” She carries the scent of the culprit. I cannot risk the pack for a stray, no matter how young.”
“Even if she were present,,” I shot back, “there may well have been a reason for it. You cannot simply decide to end a girl's life without knowing the whole of it first.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration apparent. As he did, the barriers of his mind link slipped slightly, and I reached into his thoughts.
‘By the Ancestors,’ I heard his inner voice murmur, weary and filled with sudden realization. ‘How could I have forgotten how sensitive she is to the deaths of children? She still feels the pain of her past loss as if they were an open wound.
“Alright,” he said, quieter now. “I shall wait until we are certain of the truth.” A pause. “But if it comes to light that the girl acted of her own will, with intent, I will not hesitate.”
He did not raise his voice. He rarely needed to. But I felt the tension sitting stiff in his shoulders as he crossed to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me against his chest. “In the meantime,” he murmured against my hair, his grip tightening just a fraction, “I am assigning a personal guard to you and our children. I will have four senior warriors stationed at the eastern wing.”
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, incredulous frown. I wanted to argue that I was well capable of defending myself, that my magic and my claws had torn through greater monsters than a single traumatized pup.
If this hybrid truly wanted to get to me, I doubted a standard guard would be able to do anything but die first. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw the raw, protective anxiety that he wanted to keep hidden. So I held my tongue. I let him be. If cluttering my corridor with armored wolves would put his mind at ease, it was a small price to pay. He was only concerned for my safety.
“The pup is still asleep,” I told him instead, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “We can speak with her properly once she wakes.” I said softly, patting his chest before stepping out of his embrace.
It was not a moment later that voices reached us from beyond the hall, and several pack leaders filed in through the front door. My brows shot up in surprise. I turned a questioning look toward my mate.
Damien cleared his throat, his posture instantly shifting back to that of the formal Alpha. “They wished to come see the hybrid we discovered,” he explained quietly, his voice matching the formal solemnity of the room. “Word travels fast through the link when a new scent crosses the border.”
“Damien, this is unwise,” I whispered, my brow furrowing as I looked toward the arriving lords. “The child has been living like a feral animal. Seeing too many people—especially high-ranking Alphas with dominant scents, will overwhelm her senses. She will think she is entering a slaughterhouse.”
Before Damien could justify the gathering, a soft, maternal voice broke through the tension. Alana, Damien's mother, reached me first, her hand settling briefly on my arm. “We are here to see what kind of spirit she possesses, Ophelia,” she said, her voice smooth and formal as she addressed me in front of the council, though her eyes danced with casual affection. “But we are mainly here because your mate informed us of what became of her family. We wish to see that she is cared for properly. That is all.”
I understood then. Protective as my mate was, as this whole pack was, there remained beneath all their caution a soft, unwavering place reserved for children. They had not come to interrogate a frightened girl. They had come to make certain she was warm and fed and not alone.
The minutes passed easily after that. It was fortunate I had thought to mute the sound around the spare chamber before any of this began; the child would hear nothing until she chose to step into the lounge herself.
We had only just finished setting the last of the food upon the long table when I caught her scent drifting toward us. Her steps were faint and hesitant, as though she was testing whether she was truly welcome to approach at all.
I was glad to see the maidservants had seen to her properly, gone was the uncombed hair and dirty clothes. She had changed into one of the outfits I had picked up for her. I smiled without thinking, beside me, Casimir smiled as well.
I noticed the effort it took for him to remain where he stood. His shoulders were relaxed, but his wolf watched the young girl carefully through his eyes. He had wisely decided not to rush toward her again. Even his tail, which would have betrayed his eagerness had he been shifted, seemed almost imaginable in the restraint of his posture.