Chapter 108 Hundred and twelve
“Tell me you weren’t followed,” Jarek murmured as soon as she stepped beneath the fallen archway, his voice low and tense, the moonlight catching the harsh angles of his face. He always looked carved from stone , a broad-shouldered fighter with deep brown skin, scarred hands, and eyes that never stopped scanning the shadows, as though expecting death to rise from them.
“If I had been,” Sienna replied, drawing back her hood, “you would not be standing so close.”
“You assume I fear discovery,” he shot back, but there was the faintest twitch of relief in his expression.
“Not discovery,” she said. “Execution.”
The second rebel stepped out from behind a pillar of cracked marble, his footsteps almost inaudible. Younger than Jarek, wiry, restless, his blond hair tied back with a strip of leather, he regarded her with a mixture of awe and disbelief , the way men looked at fire when they weren’t sure whether to bow to it or run from it.
“You shouldn’t be here, Your Majesty,” he whispered. “If the Council learns you’re meeting rebels, ”
“They won’t,” Sienna said, cutting him off gently. “Not unless you told them.”
His mouth snapped shut.
Silence fell over the old amphitheater , once a place of festivals, laughter, and song before the first packs were born, now nothing but ruins softened by creeping vines and moonlit moss. The stones still held the memory of voices, as though the earth remembered when people gathered here in celebration instead of fear.
Sienna stepped forward until the moonlight poured over her like a pale baptism. Her cloak shifted, revealing the silver shimmer beneath her skin , a glow she tried and failed to suppress at times. The rebels followed the movement with unease. She didn’t blame them. She barely understood what she was becoming.
“We must speak quickly,” she said. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”
Jarek exchanged a tense glance with the younger rebel, then spoke. “Zane has claimed the southern border. His men are moving faster than expected. Three villages pledged loyalty to him yesterday.”
“And Renna?” Sienna asked softly.
“She’s preaching from the old watchtower,” the younger rebel said. “Her voice draws crowds. She tells them Sienna of the Moon Court is losing her mind. That Ryder cursed you. That the kingdom needs a blood-strong ruler without divine taint.”
Sienna inhaled, slow and steady, though the words cut into her chest. “And the Council?”
Jarek’s lips curled with disgust. “Theron is consolidating his forces. He’s already moved half the guards from the northern barracks. If Zane attacks the north now, the villages have no defense.”
Her jaw tightened. “He did that without my approval.”
“He doesn’t need it.”
The younger rebel stepped forward. “Your Majesty… the Council plans to strip you of command. They talk about it openly now. They say you’re compromised because of Ryder.”
Sienna’s breath caught, just for a moment.
The curse.
The visions.
The way Ryder’s body collapsed when he tried to reach her.
None of them knew the truth , that every choice she made now was to keep him alive.
“Then we have no more time,” she whispered. “The rebellion isn’t coming. It’s here.”
The men nodded grimly.
“And that is why we must begin the pact.”
Jarek stiffened. “You’re serious.”
“I am tired of being a Queen only in title,” she murmured. “It is time I rule with purpose.”
“You understand what you’re saying?” Jarek pressed. “Once you give your word to us, there is no turning back. You cannot distance yourself from rebellion. You cannot pretend ignorance if the Council discovers us.”
Sienna met his gaze steadily. “I won’t pretend anything anymore.”
The younger rebel swallowed hard. “Then tell us what changed. What pushed you to this edge?”
Sienna drew in a trembling breath , not weak, but aching, as if she were gathering up every piece of pain and forcing it into something sharp and useful.
“Lunaris appeared to Ryder,” she said quietly.
The air seemed to tighten, as though the ruins themselves listened.
“She cursed him,” Sienna continued. “Every step he takes toward me breaks him. Every breath he draws in my direction cracks his soul. If he comes near me again… I will watch him die.”
They stared at her in shocked silence.
“And the Council does not know?” Jarek whispered.
“They must never know,” she said. “If they discover he weakens when close to me, they will use it against both of us. They will drag him before me in chains. They will make me choose between my power and his life.”
The younger rebel’s voice shook. “And what choice would you make?”
Her eyes glistened. “The one that destroys me.”
Neither man spoke. There was nothing to say.
Sienna straightened her shoulders, the silver glow beneath her skin rising like moonlight breathing through her veins. “That is why we begin now. I cannot rely on the Council. I cannot allow Renna or Zane to twist the kingdom into their own image. If the realm is to survive, I must take back power , quietly, strategically, relentlessly.”
Jarek’s expression hardened into something like respect. “Then tell us your terms.”
“I want your whispers,” she said. “Your shadows. Your hands in the dark where the Council thinks no one can reach. Spread rumors in the southern markets. Let the people believe the Council is hoarding grain, that they plan to ration food only for families loyal to them.”
“It’s believable,” the younger rebel said.
“It’s effective,” she replied. “Fear will make them question everything. And questioning leads to doubt. Doubt leads to rebellion.”
“And rebellion leads to war,” Jarek murmured.
“War is already here,” Sienna said, her voice soft but unbreakable. “We are simply choosing where to stand.”
“And where do you stand, Your Majesty?” the younger rebel asked.
She lifted her chin. “Anywhere they think I cannot reach.”
Jarek nodded once. “Then we kneel to you now.”
He dropped to one knee. The younger man followed, head bowed.
Sienna extended her hand , hesitant at first, then firm with purpose. They placed their hands over their hearts and murmured their oath, not to the throne, not to her name, but to the idea of a kingdom that deserved better than the chaos tightening around it.
A soft shimmer rose from her skin, brushing over their hands like warm breath. They gasped.
“What is that?” the younger rebel whispered.
“Nothing you need fear,” she said, withdrawing her hand quickly. “And nothing you must speak of.”
They nodded, shaken.
“What do you do now?” Jarek asked.
“I return to the Citadel,” she replied. “If I’m gone too long, the Council will sense something.”
“That is too dangerous.”
“Everything is dangerous now,” she murmured.
She stepped past them, cloak trailing behind her like spilled ink across stone. But before she reached the archway, Jarek called out:
“When the fighting begins in full… will you take the field with us? Or will you remain on your throne?”
She didn’t turn.
“I will stand where the kingdom needs me.”
“And where is that?” he asked.
A cold wind swept through the ruined arena, carrying the scent of ash from distant fires.
“Wherever they don’t want me to be,” she said softly.
She stepped into the night.
The forest swallowed her path, branches whispering overhead. Yet something shifted between the trees before she could disappear entirely. A shape moved , silent, tortured , caught halfway between wolf and man. His eyes glowed with a haunted light, following her with the raw hunger of longing and pain intertwined. His claws dug into the soil as though holding himself back required all the strength left in him.
Sienna felt him behind her, felt the pull, the tether that bound and broke them. She didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Every step she took away from him felt like tearing her heart from her chest, but if she looked at him , if she let herself want him , the curse would tear him apart before her eyes.
So she kept walking, breath unsteady, cloak whispering against the underbrush. Behind her, Ryder’s wounded growl trembled through the trees, a sound full of love and agony tangled into one.
And she walked until she could no longer hear it.