Chapter 107
The healer’s hut was small and warm, lit only by two low-burning lanterns and the soft glow of embers in the hearth. The scent of healing herbs—lavender, yarrow, comfrey—hung thick in the air, mixing with the faint coppery smell of blood. Rhianna sat on the low stool beside Hardin’s bed, one hand resting lightly on his forearm. He was asleep, or as close to sleep as the pain would allow. His breathing was shallow but steady. The fresh bandages across his back were still mostly white, though dark patches had begun to seep through again from the movement of carrying her on the journey home.
She had not left his side since they arrived.
The door opened without a knock.
Rhianna’s head snapped up.
Alden stepped in first, his gray hair wild from the night wind, expression grim. Behind him came the council—five elders in dark robes trimmed with the Blackwood crescent. Elder Mara led them, her face carved from stone. Elder Cavan followed, then three others Rhianna recognized from childhood but whose names she had to pull from memory. They filled the small room like storm clouds.
Alden raised a hand before anyone could speak.
“Keep your voices low. He’s barely holding on. If you agitate him, the fever will spike again.”
Elder Mara’s eyes flicked to Hardin, then to Rhianna.
“We are not here for pleasantries, Alden. We are here for answers.”
Rhianna stood slowly. She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. The quiet steel in her tone made the room feel smaller.
“Then speak plainly,” she said. “Because if you came to question him, you will have to go through me first.”
The elders exchanged glances.
Elder Cavan cleared his throat. “Rhianna. You have returned after many months presumed dead. The pack has questions. Hardin left without permission, abandoned his duties, brought a stranger into our territory—”
“He brought me home,” Rhianna cut in. “I am not a stranger. I am Rhianna Blackwood. Born here. Raised here. Nearly killed here. And no matter what has happened in the time I was gone, Hardin is still the firstborn son of this pack. You have no right to drag him out of this bed for questioning while his wounds are still bleeding.”
Mara’s lips thinned. “He is no longer Alpha. He yielded the title—”
“He yielded it to search for me,” Rhianna said. “To bring back the mate your Alpha abandoned. The mate Brittany tried to murder. The mate Sebastian broke and left to die. If you want to question someone about loyalty, start with them.”
A ripple of unease moved through the elders.
Elder Cavan said, “We need to know what happened in the palace. What you learned. Whether you bring danger back with you.”
Rhianna’s laugh was short and sharp. “Danger? I bring the truth. I bring memories. I bring the name you all pretended I never had. And if you think Hardin is the danger here, you are looking in the wrong direction.”
She stepped forward, placing herself between the council and Hardin’s bed.
“He is wounded,” she said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “Two hundred lashes. Silver-tipped tails. No healer for days. He carried me on his back through half the territory while his back was raw meat. If you have any honor left in you—if the Blackwood name still means anything—you will let him recover before you demand anything from him.”
Elder Mara studied her for a long moment.
“You speak as though you still have rank here.”
“I speak as someone who survived what this pack allowed to happen to me,” Rhianna said. “I speak as someone who remembers who I am. And I speak as someone who will not let you punish the only person who never stopped fighting for me.”
Silence stretched.
Alden finally spoke, voice calm but firm.
“She is right. He is in no condition for questioning. The fever is still high. The silver poison lingers. If you push him now, you may lose him. And if you lose him, you lose the one wolf who actually found her and brought her back alive.”
The elders looked at each other.
Elder Cavan said, “We will return when he is stronger. But this is not over. The pack has questions. The pack has a right to answers.”
Rhianna said, “Then ask me. I am here. I am awake. I remember. Ask me anything you want. But leave him alone until he can stand without bleeding.”
Mara’s gaze lingered on Hardin’s still form, then on Rhianna.
“Very well,” she said at last. “We will speak with you first. Tomorrow. In the council chamber. Bring whatever memories you have recovered. We will hear them.”
Rhianna nodded once. “I will be there.”
The elders filed out. Alden closed the door behind them.
Rhianna let out a long breath. Her knees felt weak. She sank back onto the stool.
Alden watched her. “You’ve changed,” he said quietly.
Rhianna gave a tired smile. “I had to.”
Alden moved to Hardin’s side, checked the bandages, adjusted the herbal compress on his forehead.
“He’ll live,” Alden said. “But it was close. Too close. If you hadn’t come when you did…”
Rhianna looked at Hardin’s sleeping face. Bruised. Exhausted. Beautiful.
“He carried me,” she whispered. “Even when he could barely walk himself.”
Alden nodded. “That boy has loved you since you were both children. Never wavered. Not once.”
Rhianna reached out, brushed a strand of dark hair from Hardin’s forehead.
“I remember now,” she said. “All of it. The good. The bad. The pain. I remember why I loved him.”
Alden smiled—small, sad, proud. “Then hold onto that. The pack is in trouble. Sebastian is not the leader his father was. Brittany poisons everything she touches. The hunters are closing in. We need strength. We need truth. And we need you.”
Rhianna looked at him. “I’m not staying for the pack. I’m staying for him.”
Alden said, “That’s enough. For now.”
He moved to the hearth, stirred a pot of broth.
Rhianna stayed by Hardin’s side.
She held his hand.
She waited.
The night passed slowly.
Outside, the pack whispered.
Rhianna had returned.
Hardin had brought her.
The council had come and gone.
And the future—whatever it was—waited.
But for the first time since the river, Rhianna felt steady.
She had her name.
She had her memories.
She had him.
And that was enough to face whatever came next.