Chapter 8
ELARA'S POV
Those next couple of months zipped right past me. Ronan's mistress, Marceline, obviously saw that whole necklace mess as some kind of direct dare. She'd ramped up her games, getting sneakier with the setups—slipping in fake proof here and there, whispering lies to stir up trouble, laying out these little ambushes that kept landing me in hot water. Some I dodged just in time, but others? I took the hit hard. It meant days locked away in that freezing cell with no food, or getting lashed until my back was raw and stinging like fire. It wore me down completely, and there were moments I questioned if I'd ever just catch my breath without looking over my shoulder.
Ronan, meanwhile, treated me like I was invisible. Half the time, I'd bet he didn't even register I was around, or if he did, he played it off like nothing. In a strange way, I preferred it that way—less tension, less weirdness—except his total disregard started to choke me out, in this unexpected, nagging sort of manner.
Any time we crossed paths, it turned into a standoff—cold glares that could freeze you solid, short snaps of words drier than dust.
I'd spot him eyeing me now and then, but he'd always shift his gaze, like I was some ugly mark ruining his spotless alpha vibe.
This was shaping up to be one endless slog in my existence.
"All set," I muttered, drying my hands on the cloth. "Heading out now." I glanced at the lead servant, who just gave me a quick jerk of her head.
On the trek back to my quarters, I kept an eye out for Martha, but she was nowhere in sight. Lately, she'd been off—coming in late, acting all shady.
Maybe she'd snagged herself a guy or something?
I brushed it off, telling myself it didn't matter. Whatever was going on with her, it wasn't my place to pry.
I flopped onto my bed, fixing my eyes on the blank ceiling, every muscle in me throbbing from the grind of the day. Things had dragged more than usual today; I'd knocked out my duties ahead of schedule, and now my roommate had vanished. Fingers crossed she was okay.
Right as sleep started tugging at me, the door flew open with a bang. Martha stood there, gasping like she'd sprinted a marathon. Her expression was all knotted up in a way I couldn't quite pin down.
Concern? Rage? Hurt? It wasn't her usual look.
"Hey," I propped myself up, my throat a bit scratchy, "You alright? Where'd you disappear to?"
She let out a long breath, dropping onto her bed across from me, "It's Elder Ryder's little granddaughter—she's not doing well. I've been helping out over there for a while since I know a thing or two about remedies and plants, but nothing's touching it..."
My stomach sank. Elder Ryder wasn't your average advisor; he carried real weight around here, known for his steady, thoughtful ways. Besides Martha, he was the only one who'd ever treated me like I wasn't some walking danger, though I had no illusions—he'd probably sign off on my execution without blinking if I stepped wrong.
"What's the issue with her?" I asked, already dreading whatever came next.
Martha exhaled unsteadily, wringing her hands, "That's the kicker—we can't figure it out. The docs are stumped, and even with all I thought I knew about ailments... I'm at a total loss. She's wasting away, getting weaker every day."
I shifted from my spot to sit beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back with my hand, hoping it might ease her tension a little, even if it was just a drop in the bucket.
Her words came out tight as she went on, "We've thrown everything at it, but the disease just keeps gaining ground while we fall behind... And now there's this worry it could jump to others."
"Has it hit anyone else? Any similar signs?"
"Probably starting to. Folks near their area are coming down with stuff—high temps, total fatigue, weird spots on the skin. Not as bad yet, but if we don't get a handle on it, the whole group could go under."
My inner wolf let out a quiet ache. This wasn't some run-of-the-mill bug. It threatened everybody.
"That's bad news," I whispered, "If it blows up, we're all at risk. And you're positive there's no fix?"
She shook her head, her face clouded with defeat, "I don't think so. It's just ticking down. The alpha and the council wanted to hush it up to avoid panic, but we're getting to the point where we might have to spill it and lock things down."
I managed a weak grin, "Hey, don't stress. Something'll turn up before it hits that stage. I can feel it."
I tried to buy into my own line, but inside, I knew it was a long shot.
The days dragged on, and the outbreak didn't let up. If anything, it slunk through the community like a thief in the dark. People were on high alert now, hesitant to even brush shoulders. Lines formed outside the healers' spots, folks desperate for answers.
Ronan's typical rock-solid cool cracked wide open; he was wired, on a short fuse, growling commands and biting heads off if anyone pushed back.
"Just when I figured life might smooth out." I grumbled, gazing at the blades of grass. The palace air had gotten too thick, so I'd wandered out for some space, ending up solo on this rise with a view of the territory.
The moon hung like a slim crescent, casting barely any glow over everything below. I fished out a pin I'd stashed in my pocket, jabbing my finger and watching the red trail down my skin.
No. I shook my head hard. I couldn't go there—I should be terrified of the idea.
But the pull was strong... the shot at mending what was falling apart.
I drew in a ragged, cool gulp of night air, filling my chest. My wolf shifted restlessly within, sharing the hurt. But was it worth the gamble? Baring my secret? Betting it all for a kid and a bunch of strangers who'd mostly spat on me and ground me down?
This wasn't some fair trade-off, not even close. For me, it was all downside, no matter how it played.
An hour slipped by, the quiet weighing on me like a blanket of lead. With a deep inhale, I got to my feet, my choice finally locked in.
"I know what has to be done."