Chapter 103: The Scent of Truth

Chapter 103: The Scent of Truth
Talon was waiting for me outside the stables.

He stood in the snowbank, up to his knees in the stuff, bundled in a too-large wool tunic that someone—probably Dessa—had cinched around his waist with a piece of twine. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his gloves were soaked through, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He saw me before I spotted him. He was halfway through packing a snowball when his eyes lifted, sharp and wolf-bright, and locked on mine.

“Momma!”

His voice rang out, clear and proud. He ran for me in short, stumbling steps, boots kicking powder into the air. I crouched before he reached me, arms open, and caught him as he slammed into my chest.

I held him tighter than I meant to.

“Hi,” I whispered into his hair. “I missed you.”

“You were gone a long time,” he said, muffled against my collar.

“I know.”

He pulled back just enough to peer at me with narrowed eyes. “You smell like tired.”

I smiled. “I am tired.”

“And… other stuff.”

I blinked. “Other stuff?”

He sniffed. Deeply.

I froze.

Talon’s nose scrunched, like he was working through something complicated in his little brain. Then he sniffed again, slower this time, and tilted his head.

“You smell like Alpha Roran.”

I went still.

He wasn’t wrong. I had bathed, changed clothes, even braided my hair back to keep the scent from lingering—but the bond left a trace. The closeness. The almost. It clung to me the way a storm clings to the trees after it’s passed.

Talon stared up at me, lips pursed.

“Did he hug you?”

“Sort of,” I said carefully.

“Did he sleep with you?”

My heart stopped.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because his smell is strong. Like when you let me curl up in your bed, and I leave my smell in the blanket.”

I didn’t know what to say.

To a child born into a world where scent meant safety, recognition, and love, this wasn’t strange. It was how he understood his place. The way he knew who belonged. It wasn’t just a question. It was a truth he was trying to understand.

And he had already lost the only scent he should have known first.

He was asking if something new was happening.

If someone new was filling a space he didn’t remember ever being full.

I crouched lower, my hands cupping his face.

“Sweetheart,” I said gently, “Alpha Roran helped me during the raid. He was hurt, and I helped him, too. That’s why we smell like each other. It’s just what happens when wolves fight together.”

He frowned.

“But you didn’t smell like him before.”

“No.”

“And now you do.”

“Yes.”

His small brow creased. “So… does that mean he’s like Daddy?”

My heart cracked.

He didn’t remember Kael. Not truly. He’d been born into grief and grown inside a silence shaped by loss. But something in him still reached for a word he barely understood. Daddy. A title that had never been spoken aloud in this den.

I closed my eyes.

“No,” I said softly. “He’s not your daddy.”

“But… you like him.”

My throat tightened. “It’s complicated.”

He considered this for a long moment. “Like when wolves fight over the bone, but then share it anyway?”

I let out a choked laugh. “Something like that.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied with his own logic. Then his face shifted, thoughtful in a way that was older than he should have known how to be.

“I don’t remember my real daddy,” he said, not looking at me. “But I remember you being sad for a long time.”

I swallowed. “I know.”

“You didn’t used to laugh. Not like now.”

The words knocked the breath from my lungs.

Had I laughed?

Once? Yesterday?

Had my voice softened without realizing it?

“I didn’t mean to be sad,” I whispered.

He turned to me, one mitten pressing against my cheek. “I know.”

Something in my chest crumbled.

I pulled him close again, wrapping him in my arms, and this time I didn’t let go quickly. I buried my face in his soft hair and breathed him in. He smelled like snow, apples, woodsmoke, and safety. My boy. My miracle. The only living piece of Kael still left in this world.

And maybe he was right.

Maybe something in me had changed.

Maybe the bond was blooming faster than I wanted to admit.

But how could I let it grow, knowing it would confuse the only person who mattered?

When I pulled back, he was watching me again with those too-wise eyes.

“Do you like Roran?”

I hesitated.

“I don’t know yet.”

He nodded solemnly. “You should find out.”

“Why?”

“Because he makes you laugh.”

I smiled, but it was brittle at the edges.

“You want me to be happy?”

“Yes. But not sad-happy. Real happy.”

He didn’t wait for my answer. He just took my hand and tugged me toward the stables again, already distracted by the promise of fresh hay and the old grey goat that liked to butt him in the knee.

But the words he left behind stayed.

Not sad-happy.

Real happy.

That night, I sat by the window in my room, Talon curled up on the bed behind me, finally asleep.

I watched the sky.

Clouds moved across the stars, thick and silent. The air pressed heavy around me. Somewhere below, wolves were still rebuilding. Scouts returned. Runners moved between towers.

And I felt it again.

The bond.

Not loud. Not invasive.

Just there. A soft thread of warmth at the base of my throat. A whisper of something living.

I touched the mark.

Closed my eyes.

And wondered what it would cost to let it stay.