Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18

Chapter 18 CHAPTER 18
Ophelia’s POV
I woke up to my mom knocking on my door.
"Ophelia? Sweetie? Are you awake?"
I blinked at the ceiling. Sunlight was streaming through my window.
"Yeah, I'm up!" I called out, sitting up and running my fingers through my messy hair.
The door opened and Mom walked in, carrying a tray with tea and some kind of pastry. She looked way too cheerful for this early in the morning.
"Good morning, darling," she said, setting the tray on my bedside table. "You look much better today. More color in your cheeks."
"Thanks?" I said, still half-asleep.
She sat on the edge of my bed and touched my forehead with the back of her hand. "No fever. That's good. Ryan must be taking good care of you."
I froze.
Ryan. Care of me. Right. Because officially, he was my... my...
Oh god, what had Jovie told everyone? That he was my assistant? My servant?
My face went hot. "Mom," I said quickly, trying to change the subject. "Tell me about Dad. How's he doing? I feel like I haven't seen him much."
Her face softened. "Your father's been busy with pack business, but he misses you. We both do. You've been spending so much time in your room lately."
Guilt hit me like a truck. "I'm sorry," I said. "I've just been... adjusting to some things."
"I understand." She reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But I'm glad to see you making friends. That Ryan boy seems... intense, but you seem comfortable around him."
My face went even hotter. "We're not—I mean, he's just—"
"It's alright," Mom said again, and there was something knowing in her smile. "I don't mind if you two spend time together."
"MOM!"
"What? I'm just saying." She laughed. "He's a bit rough around the edges, yes, but so was your father when I first met him. And look how that turned out."
I buried my face in my hands. "Please stop talking."
"I'm just being honest, dear. Ryan may have a rogue background, but Nolan says he has real potential. If he continues to prove himself..." She paused. "Well, your father might come to accept him. In time."
"Accept him for WHAT?" I squeaked.
"As someone worthy of your attention, of course." Mom stood up, smoothing her dress. "Now, don't look so scandalized. I'm simply saying that if you care about this boy—"
"I don't care about him! Not like that! I'm just—I'm trying to help him because he needed help and—and—"
"Ophelia." Mom's voice was gentle. "It's alright to care about people. You have a kind heart. That's nothing to be ashamed of."
I wanted to die. Actually die. Again.
"I just want to stay here," I said desperately. "With you and Dad. That's all I want."
Mom's expression melted into pure affection. "Oh, sweetheart." She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "You'll always have us. No matter what."
I hugged her tight, feeling weirdly emotional. These weren't my real parents—they were part of this constructed timeline—but they felt real. And warm. And safe.
"Actually," Mom said, pulling back with a bright smile. "I came to ask you something. There's a harvest festival in town tomorrow night. Would you like to go?"
"A festival?"
"Yes! It's annual tradition. There'll be food, games, music... it's quite lovely." Her eyes got all nostalgic. "Your father won me over at one of those festivals, you know. He won the archery competition and gave me the prize—a beautiful carved wooden rose."
"Dad won an archery competition?" I tried to picture my supposed father shooting arrows. "Really?"
"Oh yes. He was quite the marksman in his youth." She laughed. "Still is, actually. He just doesn't show off as much anymore."
An idea sparked in my brain.
"Mom," I said slowly. "Could I... could I bring Ryan? To the festival?"
She looked surprised but pleased. "Of course, dear. I think that's a wonderful idea." Then she gave me that knowing look. "Well, I'll let you get dressed. Breakfast is in an hour."
She left, and I flopped back onto my bed.
"Hex," I thought. "Did you hear all that?"
"Every mortifying word," he said cheerfully. "Your mom thinks you have a crush on Ryan."
"I do NOT have a crush on Ryan!"
"Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"I'm trying to save his life! That's different!"
"Is it though?"
"YES!"
"If you say so."
I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. "Plus," I thought, "if I can convince Tristan to train him... that's a major timeline changes. That's good, right?"
"It's progress," Hex agreed. "But you still need to actually talk to Tristan."
"I know. I'm going today."
"Do you even know where to find him?"
"You're gonna help me with that."
"Am I?"
"Yes. You are. Because that's your job. Supernatural GPS, remember?"
Hex sighed. "Fine. But if we get eaten by bears, I'm blaming you."
"There are no bears here."
"You don't know that."
I got up and started getting dressed. Simple clothes—leather pants, a loose tunic, boots good for forest walking. If I was gonna track down a reclusive ex-warrior, I needed to be practical.
Plus, I needed to do this while Ryan was out on patrol. He couldn't know about this plan yet. Not until I'd secured Tristan as a teacher.
I braided my hair back, grabbed a water flask, and headed for the door.
Time to go find a grumpy hermit in the woods.
This was gonna be great.









The forest outside Ironcliff territory was beautiful.
And also kind of terrifying.
Tall trees blocked out most of the sunlight, creating these pools of shadow everywhere. Birds called out from the branches. Something rustled in the bushes to my left.
"Hex," I thought nervously. "Are you sure this is the right way?"
"According to the timeline fragments I can read, yes. Tristan's last known location was near a stream about two miles northeast of here."
"Two miles?"
"You wanted to do this."
"I know, I know." I pushed through some low-hanging branches. "I'm just saying, a nice GPS arrow would be helpful."
"I'm not a GPS. I'm an ancient wolf spirit."
"Same difference."
We walked for another twenty minutes. My legs were starting to hurt, and I was pretty sure I'd gotten a leaf in my hair.
Finally, I heard running water.
"There!" I said. "The stream!"
I pushed through the trees and found myself in a small clearing. A stream cut through the middle, crystal clear and sparkling in the dappled sunlight.
And there, across the stream, was a small wooden cabin.
"That's gotta be it," I said.
"Probably. Now what?"
"Now I make myself obvious." I walked to a spot near the stream where anyone watching from the cabin would see me clearly. Then I sat down on a rock and tried to look lost and helpless.
"This acting is terrible," Hex said.
"Shut up, it's called bait."
"You look like you're constipated."
"I do NOT!"
"You're squinting weird."
"I'm trying to look distressed!"
"Well, you look like you need to use a bathroom."
I gave up on the facial expressions and just sat there, staring at the water.
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
"Maybe he's not home," I said.
"Or maybe he's waiting to see what you'll do."
"That's creepy."
"He's an ex-warrior living alone in the woods. What did you expect?"
I was about to respond when I heard a twig snap behind me.
I spun around.
A man stood at the edge of the clearing. Tall, broad-shouldered, maybe forty years old. He wore rough leather clothes and had a bow slung across his back. His beard was thick and graying, and his eyes were sharp.
Also, he had a dead deer slung over one shoulder.
"You're on Ironcliff territory," he said. His voice was rough. Deep. "You lost, kid?"
I stood up quickly, brushing dirt off my pants. "I—I was just exploring. Are you a hunter?"
He set the deer down and studied me. His gaze moved from my face to my clothes to the way I was standing.
Then his eyes narrowed. "You're the Alpha's daughter."
Crap. So much for being subtle.
"Maybe?" I tried.
"Definitely." He crossed his arms. "Shouldn't the Alpha's daughter be safe inside the castle?"
I hesitated. Then decided to go with honesty. "I needed to get away. Too stuffy in there."
To my surprise, he nodded. "I understand that."
"You do?"
"Pack life." He picked up the deer again. "All those rules. All those expectations. Watching every word you say, every move you make. Gets exhausting."
"Exactly!" I said, relieved. "Everyone's always watching and judging and—it's just a lot, you know?"
He grunted. "Why do you think I'm out here?"
We stood there for a moment in weird understanding.
"I'm Tristan," he said finally.
"Ophelia."
"I know. Everyone knows the Alpha's daughter." He jerked his head toward his cabin. "You want some water? You look like you walked pretty far."
"That would be great, actually."
I followed him across the stream and into his cabin. It was small but clean. Organized. One room with a fireplace, a bed, a table, shelves full of weapons and tools.
"This is cool," I said, looking around. "Very... woodsy."
"It's functional." He poured water from a jug into two wooden cups. "So what are you really doing out here, kid? Girls like you don't just wander into the forest for fun."
I took the cup. "What if I said I was looking for you?"
His eyebrows went up. "Why?"
"Because I heard you used to be a warrior. One of the best."
"Used to be," he emphasized. "Past tense."
"But you still train, right? I saw the weapons. The targets outside."
He sat down at his table. "I keep my skills sharp. Doesn't mean I'm teaching anyone."
"Why not?"