Chapter Eighty-two

Chapter Eighty-two
Chapter 82

Edgar’s POV

The fortress walls had never felt so suffocating.

Every corridor I walked through seemed to close in on me, stone pressing against my lungs, shadows whispering like the walls themselves knew my secret. I’d fought battles against armies, faced curses that stripped me to nothing but bone and agony, yet none of it left me as restless as the weight of silence pressing against my chest now.

Lia’s eyes followed me wherever I went.

She thought I didn’t notice, but I did. Her gaze lingered a heartbeat too long when I sat at the table, measured the tone of my voice when I answered questions, searched my face as though trying to peel away layers I had carefully sealed shut.

I couldn’t meet those eyes without feeling guilt rise like a tide.

The truth I held back was poison. Not the kind Connor had once tried to slip into my veins, but a different sort, slow, corrosive, eating at trust. If she knew I had faced him, spoken to him, heard words from my enemy that should never have reached my ears, would she forgive me for keeping it hidden? Or would she see it as betrayal?

I told myself I was protecting her. Protecting all of them. But some nights, when the silence grew too loud, I wondered if I was only protecting myself.

That morning, I rose before dawn. Sleep clung to my body like chains, but rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I slipped from bed without waking Lia and made my way to the training yard. My legs still carried the weakness of the curse, but I forced them into drills until sweat burned my skin and my lungs screamed.

The clang of steel filled the air as I struck against the practice dummy. Blow after blow, I tried to pound the guilt out of me. But no matter how hard I swung, the truth stayed lodged like a thorn in my ribs.

“Pushing yourself won’t silence it,” a voice drawled from the shadows.

I froze mid-swing, whirling to find Elena leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Her sharp eyes pinned me like arrows.

“You’ve been restless,” she observed. “More restless than weakness alone explains.”

“I need to regain strength,” I said, my tone clipped.

“You need to stop lying,” she countered, stepping closer. “To yourself, to Lia, to me.”

Her words struck harder than any blade. I turned back to the dummy, striking again with deliberate force. “Some things are better unspoken.”

“Better, or easier?”

I didn’t answer.

Elena studied me in silence for a moment before shaking her head. “Secrets rot faster than wounds, Edgar. You know this.” Then she left me there, her words hanging heavy in the morning air.

By the time I returned to our chambers, Lia was awake, seated by the window with her hands resting lightly in her lap. She looked up at me, her eyes soft but searching. Always searching.

“You were gone early again,” she said.

“I needed the yard,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though her gaze didn’t soften. “You’ve needed it every day this week.”

I stripped off my tunic, letting the cool air wash over my damp skin. “Strength doesn’t return on its own.”

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the quiet crackle of the hearth. When I finally turned back, she was still watching me, like she could see the walls I kept rebuilding, brick by brick, between us.

I wanted to go to her. To take her in my arms, press my forehead against hers, and tell her everything. But the image of her face if she knew the truth haunted me. The fury. The hurt. The betrayal.

Instead, I crossed the room and kissed her forehead gently. She leaned into it, but I felt the tension beneath her calm.

She knew.

Not the details, not the whole truth, but enough to sense the shadows I carried. And it terrified me more than Connor’s threats ever could.

That afternoon, the elders summoned me.

The messenger spoke politely enough, but I knew what it meant. Another conversation behind closed doors, another weight added to my shoulders. Lia was not invited. She wasn’t even mentioned. And though I wanted her by my side, I didn’t protest.

When I entered the council chamber, the air was thick with the scent of burning sage. The elders sat in their semicircle, faces grave, eyes gleaming with something between caution and demand.

“You grow stronger,” Elder Myra observed. “But strength without clarity is a fragile shield.”

“I am clear enough,” I replied.

“Then why do you look over your shoulder as though death follows?” Elder Rowan pressed. His voice was like gravel dragged over stone. “What shadows have you entertained, Edgar?”

My throat tightened. They saw too much. Perhaps they always had.

“I keep my focus where it belongs, on the pack,” I said, forcing calm into my voice.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Be certain that is true. For when a wolf carries secrets, they do not stay hidden forever. They spill, and when they spill, they drown more than the one who kept them.”

Their words stayed with me long after I left the chamber.

By evening, I was back with Lia, but I felt further from her than I had ever been. We sat by the fire, her hand slipping into mine, warm and steady. She said nothing, but her silence was louder than any accusation.

I squeezed her hand gently, as though that alone could erase the distance between us. But inside, I knew, each day I kept this from her, I drove another wedge between us.

That night, long after she drifted to sleep, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. My chest felt like a cage, ribs pressing tight around a heart that beat too hard, too heavy.

I remembered Connor’s face in the forest, the smirk, the twisted echo of kinship in his eyes. His words haunted me: We share blood, brother, whether you want it or not.

Brother.

I had buried that revelation deep, locked it behind silence, convinced myself it was safer this way. But how long before Lia demanded the truth outright? How long before Connor himself forced it into the light?

And when that moment came, would she still stand by me?

I turned toward her sleeping form, her hair spilling across the pillow like dark silk, her hand curled close to her chest. The sight of her should have calmed me. Instead, it broke me. Because I realized with sharp clarity:

If I lost her trust, I lost everything.

But still, I said nothing.