Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty
Chapter 80

Edgar’s POV

The path back from the grove felt longer than when I had come. My legs dragged, not from weakness of body alone but from the weight in my chest. Every step was heavy, each breath carrying the echo of Connor’s voice, sharp, bitter, unrelenting.

Enjoy your prayers, Alpha.

The words clung like a curse.

When the fortress towers finally appeared through the thinning trees, I paused at the treeline, staring. My home, my haven, suddenly felt like a cage. Inside, Lia was waiting, perhaps awake now, wondering where I had gone. Elena would be with her, watchful, fierce as ever. The elders, the guards, all of them unaware that the shadow of my step brother still stalked so close.

And that was the decision pressing against my skull like a blade: to tell them, or to keep the knowledge buried.

The safe choice was to speak. To warn them, to rally the fortress, to fortify against whatever scheme Connor planned. Yet the thought of saying his name aloud, of watching the shock, the fear, the questions bloom across their faces. My throat locked at the very idea.

How could I explain it? That I had looked my step brother in the eye and seen not only an enemy but a reflection, twisted, yes, but undeniably mine?

I clenched my fists and stepped forward. The fortress gates opened without question; guards bowed their heads in respect, though I caught the flicker of worry in their eyes as they noted the strain in my gait. They knew I was not yet strong. And weakness, in their Alpha, was as dangerous as any weapon Connor might wield.

Inside, the halls were quieter than usual. Morning duties had drawn most wolves out, and only a few attendants moved through the corridors, bowing as I passed. Their whispers followed me, low enough they thought I wouldn’t hear.

“…still looks pale…”
“…should he be walking alone?”
“…Lia never leaves his side…”

I ignored them.

My chambers lay ahead, the doors tall and imposing, carved with the sigil of the crescent moon. As I pushed them open, the warmth of the room washed over me, soft firelight, heavy furs, the faint scent of lavender. And there she was.

Lia.

She sat near the hearth, her hair unbound, falling in waves over her shoulders. A book rested in her lap, though her eyes weren’t on the pages. They lifted the moment she heard me, her entire face lighting with a softness that made my chest ache.

“You’re back,” she said, rising swiftly. “I woke and you weren’t here. I thought” Her words cut off as she reached me, her hands brushing my arms, searching me as though expecting wounds. “Edgar, where did you go?”

For a heartbeat, the truth trembled on my tongue. To the grove. To pray. To face Connor.

But the image of her eyes widening, of fear settling in her bones, silenced me. She had borne enough burdens for me. I couldn’t heap this shadow on her shoulders too.

“I needed air,” I said, steady but quiet. “The walls were close.”

She studied me, suspicion flickering in her gaze. She knew me too well. But after a long moment, she nodded slowly, her hands sliding down to clasp mine.

“Next time, wake me. I don’t care if it’s dawn or midnight. I want to be with you.”

I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her skin.

“I know.”

We stood like that, the silence between us heavy but not uncomfortable. Yet even as I held her, Connor’s voice hissed at the edges of my mind, demanding to be remembered.

Later, when Lia left to fetch something from Elena, I sank into the chair by the hearth. My body screamed for rest, but my mind refused. The encounter replayed in fragments,
the bitterness in his tone, the fire in his eyes.

Brother.

How could one word cut so deep?

A knock drew me from the spiral. The door opened to reveal Elena, her expression as sharp as her stride. She closed the door behind her before I could speak, her arms folding.

“You went out,” she said flatly.

I met her eyes. “And you tracked me?”

“I track everything. Especially when you vanish without Lia knowing.”

The edge in her tone was a clear accusation.

“I needed solitude,” I said carefully.

Her gaze narrowed, sweeping over me, as though she could peel back my skin and see the secrets beneath. For a moment, I feared she might have followed me far enough to glimpse Connor. But she said nothing of it. Instead, she sighed, her stance softening slightly.

“Don’t shut us out, Edgar. You’ve carried too much alone already. Let us bear some of it.”

The words struck deeper than I wanted them to. I gave a tight nod, unwilling to meet her eyes.

When she left, silence reclaimed the room once more. My thoughts churned, restless, haunted. Telling Lia and Elena would mean dragging them into a storm that was still gathering. Yet keeping it hidden, that, too, was a choice that could unravel everything if Connor struck when they were unprepared.

The goddess had not answered me in the grove, not directly. Or perhaps she had, in the wind that stirred as I prayed. But I was left with no certainty, only questions that tore at my insides.

As the hours passed, I remained there by the hearth, watching the flames curl and collapse, feeding on themselves. I thought of Connor’s face, his voice, the anger that had shaped him.

And I thought of my own reflection, wondering if perhaps,had fate been crueler, I might have been him.

By evening, Lia returned, her presence filling the chamber with warmth once more. She curled beside me, her head against my shoulder, her voice soft as she spoke of little things: the kitchens, the laughter of the pups in the courtyard, Elena’s sharp tongue cutting through the guards’ laziness.

I listened, answering with small murmurs, though my mind was elsewhere, still circling that grove, still hearing his laugh.

When she drifted to sleep against me, I pressed a hand against her belly, faint hope and terror mingling as I thought of the life growing there.

For that child, I would not falter.

Even if it meant standing against my own blood.

Even if it meant burying the truth until the moment came to strike.

I closed my eyes, the fire casting shadows across the walls, and whispered to myself, too soft for even the night to carry:

“Moon Goddess, grant me the strength, and forgive me the silence.”