Chapter 8

• Rhea
• Rhea walked slowly, her hands brushing against the carved walls, tracing grooves she didn’t understand.
• She had not been told to stay in her room, but she knew some wolves wished she had.
• Voices were heard in the corridors. Too soft for normal ears, but she heard them. Wolves whispers were never quiet enough.
• “…she’s wrong.”
• “…no scent. Not one trace.”
• “…how can the Alpha allow her inside?”
• Her shoulders tightened, but she kept walking.
• A pair of guards stood near the stairwell, spears crossed in front of them. They fell silent when she passed.
• One lowered his eyes. The other did not. His nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched, like just breathing her air was too much.
• Rhea looked straight ahead. If she met their eyes, they would expect submission, and she had none to give.
• She wandered deeper into the east wing. The windows there overlooked the cliffs. White snow stretched far below, unbroken except for the dark lines of forest. For a moment, she let her forehead rest against the cold glass.
• She wished the cold could empty her.
• But the whispers did not leave her head.
• Wrong.
• No scent.
• Not one of us.
• She closed her eyes. The words dug in, even though she had lived with them before… it would still be different voices, different cages. It would always be the same.
• A sharp sound broke her thoughts.
• Footsteps.
• Reid.
• The Beta came around the corner, his expression sharp as ever. His hair was tied back, his jaw set.
• “Rhea.” His voice cut through.
• She turned, steady. “Beta.”
• His eyes narrowed slightly at her calm tone. “You are wandering early.”
• “I couldn’t sleep.”
• His gaze flicked past her, toward the cliffs, then back. “The fortress isn’t a place to wander freely. Not now.”
• She tilted her head. “Then why does it feel like everyone is watching me?”
• Reid didn’t flinch, but his eyes sharpened. He studied her for a long moment, then said quietly, “Because they are.”
• Before she could answer, a pair of younger wolves came up the stairwell. They froze when they saw her, and one whispered to the other, She heard it clearly.
• “…that is her. The Alpha keeps her close. No scent. She doesn’t even bow.”
• “…maybe she cursed him.”
• Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t look away from Reid.
• His eyes flicked toward the young wolves. “Enough. Go.”
• They lowered their heads and left quickly, though their fear lingered in the air.
• When the place was quiet again, Reid’s gaze returned to her. “You hear everything, don’t you?”
• “Only what is said loud enough.”
• His mouth pressed into a line. “Then you know what they think.”
• Rhea’s hands curled into her sleeves. “That I don’t belong.”
• Reid stepped closer. His voice was low, but it carried weight. “You don’t understand, girl. Lucien is already fighting the council, fighting the curse, fighting himself. With you standing in this pack as a silent, scentless, and untouchable… whatever you are, is another blade at his back.”
• Her chest tightened, though she didn’t show it. “And yet… he doesn’t push me away.”
• Reid’s eyes flickered. For a brief moment, there was something else in his gaze… worry, maybe even pity, but it vanished.
• “He should.”
• Then he turned and left her standing there.
• The rest of the morning passed quickly.
• Wherever she went, the whispers followed. Wolves stiffened when she neared. Conversations ended when she entered.
• Even the torches seemed to burn differently when she passed, their flames leaning as though drawn to her.
• In the kitchens, a group of pack mothers stirred pots of stew. The smell of herbs filled the air. One of them saw her and froze, spoon dripping.
• Another muttered, “She shouldn’t be here.”
• A third whispered, “She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t sleep. What is she?”
• Rhea stepped back into the corridor, leaving them behind. Her stomach turned, though she wasn’t hungry.
• She wandered without aim until the sound of young laughter drew her.
• She paused at the entrance to the training yard.
• Three wolf pups tumbled in the snow, their small bodies rolling and snapping playfully. A young guard leaned against the wall, watching them.
• When he noticed her, his smile faded. He straightened, blocking her view slightly, like she was a darkness too near the children.
• “They are not afraid,” Rhea said softly.
• The guard’s grip on his spear tightened. “They don’t know better yet.”
• She looked at the pups again. They barked and snapped, unbothered by the storm in the sky or the silence in her chest.
• Something ached in her. A memory… two girls running through snow, laughter that wasn’t hers but felt familiar.
• Her hand pressed against her ribs, steadying herself.
• The guard’s eyes followed the motion. His voice was rough. “Stay away from them.”
• Rhea nodded once and turned away.
• By midday, she returned to her chamber.
• The door shut behind her, muffling the fortress whispers, but not enough. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling faintly.
• She whispered to the silence, “Why me?”
• No answer.
• That night, she woke to voices again.
• Not whispers of wolves this time. Not the fortress.
• Inside.
• A girl’s voice.
• Her own voice.
• He will burn. You will burn him.
• Rhea sat up sharply while gasping.
• The rune on her palm glowed faintly in the dark.
• And outside her door, footsteps paused. Familiar.
• Lucien.
• He didn’t knock this time.
• The door creaked open, firelight spilling across the floor.
• He stood in the frame, coat heavy with snow, his eyes unreadable.
• For a long moment, neither spoke.
• Then his gaze lowered to her hand. To the faint glow.
• Her fingers curled into her palm, hiding it.
• His voice was low.
• “The pack members are afraid of you.”
• She swallowed. “So are you.”
• Lucien’s jaw tightened. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
• “No,” he said. “I am afraid of what you mean.”
• The silence stayed.
• And for the first time since she had entered this fortress,
• Rhea wasn’t sure of anything.