The east wing of SilverCrest had always belonged to Evelyn—the rooms saturated with jasmine and cold marble, the scent of council ink, the quiet hush of manipulation. Aria hadn’t entered this side of the keep since the bond was severed. Now she walked it with purpose.
Zara flanked her, eyes sharp, but Aria didn’t need backup. Not anymore.
Word had reached them that Evelyn had called a meeting. A private one. With elders from neighboring packs who hadn’t yet declared their allegiance. The timing wasn’t coincidence. Aria’s declaration had shifted the ground, and Evelyn was scrambling to seize what fragments of power still shimmered like glass underfoot.
The guards outside Evelyn’s chambers recognized Aria immediately but didn’t move to block her. One stepped aside. The other simply looked away. Their loyalty had cracked. So had Evelyn’s illusion of control.
Aria pushed open the doors without knocking.
The room stilled.
Evelyn stood by the hearth, her silver-blonde hair pinned back with meticulous care, lips stained the color of old blood. The five elders she had gathered turned in their chairs. None of them smiled.
“My apologies,” Aria said, voice calm, “I didn’t realize treachery was on the agenda this morning.”
Evelyn’s mask—cool, calculated—did not falter. “You weren’t invited.”
“Because you knew I’d stop you.”
Evelyn tilted her head, her tone gentle. “You’ve made quite the show, Aria. But a mother with a child is not a Luna. A Luna is crowned. Recognized. Ratified.”
Zara’s voice was ice. “She was.”
Evelyn looked at her like one would a fly on fruit. “By frightened wolves howling in the dark? Please.”
Aria stepped closer. “I’ve let you speak your venom long enough.”
Evelyn raised her chin. “You think you’ve won because they clapped like fools in the courtyard? The Council is not a crowd to be swayed by a mother’s tears. They are power incarnate. They recognize legitimacy, not sentiment.”
Aria smiled. “Then why are you scrambling?”
The mask cracked—not a collapse, just a twitch, a sliver, but enough.
The elders exchanged glances.
“You arranged my severance behind closed doors,” Aria continued. “You used Kael’s grief, his past, and turned it into strategy. You let a child be conceived and tried to erase her before she could breathe. That’s not power, Evelyn. That’s desperation.”
Evelyn’s hands clenched around her silk sleeves.
“I kept this pack from war,” she said coldly.
“No,” Aria replied. “You kept it from evolving.”
Zara crossed her arms. “You knew she was pregnant, didn’t you?”
A flicker in Evelyn’s eyes. Too fast. But there.
“Of course you did,” Aria said. “You knew, and you saw it as an opportunity. A threat you could silence before anyone knew.”
“I tried to protect the pack,” Evelyn said, but the words rang hollow.
“No,” Aria corrected, stepping forward until there were only inches between them. “You tried to protect your place in it.”
Silence hung heavy.
The oldest elder, a woman with a braided silver crown atop her head, cleared her throat. “Lady Evelyn, is it true you withheld knowledge of the Luna’s pregnancy?”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
“She didn’t just withhold it,” Aria said. “She orchestrated the severing knowing.”
Another elder frowned. “That violates council ethics.”
Evelyn’s jaw flexed. “There was no proof.”
“But there is now,” Aria said, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. She handed it to the elder.
The woman opened it.
It was a letter. Dated weeks before the severing. From Evelyn to a council contact in Blackpine. Mentioning Aria’s suspected pregnancy and the urgency to break the bond before the child could be named.
Zara had found it, buried among old correspondence, left unburned by arrogance.
Evelyn went pale.
“You wrote that?” one elder asked.
No answer.
“You knew?” another demanded.
Still silence.
Aria’s voice was low. “You played your game. Now it plays you back.”
Evelyn turned, slowly, deliberately, and poured herself a glass of wine. Her hands trembled only slightly.
“You’ve no idea what it takes to hold this pack together,” she said. “I made sacrifices none of you would understand.”
Aria stepped forward. “We all made sacrifices. But yours were for yourself.”
The oldest elder stood. “This conversation is over. We’ll be summoning a full council review.”
Evelyn didn’t speak. She merely stared into her wine, swirling it like blood in a glass.
Aria turned to leave, Zara at her side.
“Aria,” Evelyn called softly, just before the doors opened.
She turned.
Evelyn’s eyes were tired. Haunted. No longer veiled.
“She will break you,” Evelyn said. “The child. Her power. You’re not strong enough to hold it.”
Aria’s reply was a whisper. “She won’t break me. She’ll complete me.”
And then she left.
