Sienna looked at her mother with confusion, but she was clever enough to recognize the warning in Rebecca’s eyes.
Though she was unwilling, she pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Yena, too, had caught the tension in her mother’s posture.
Upon seeing Rebecca’s expression, she stopped speaking and stood in place, respectful and silent.
That was hierarchy made visible.
Not the loud kind, not the kind that came with titles or formal precedence.
The kind that lived in the body, in who looked away first, in who went silent before they were asked.
Sienna and Yena had both gone motionless the moment Rebecca moved.
Whatever they were to Eliza in that room, they were subordinate to their mother.
And Rebecca, for all her warmth and soft words, ran her branch the way a wolf ran a den, every eye accounted for, every movement accounted for.
Eliza’s brows tightened.
Even though she had followed the old General for so many years, she did not know the intricate twists and turns of court politics.
Her world had always been a small one, the gossip of servants, the grievances of in-laws, the careful management of her own standing within these walls.
How could she understand the meaning behind Seren’s words?
To her, Seren had lost her senses today, contradicting her at every turn until her chest tightened with the kind of fury that had nowhere to go.
She wanted to explode in anger.
“Seren does have a point,” Rebecca said, cutting in as Eliza was about to lash out.
Her smile was fixed in place, warm and conciliatory.
“This was all a misunderstanding.
Word gets around, but that doesn’t mean Prince Knox will think anything of it.
He’s not the type to hold a grudge over something so minor.
If anything, the poor girl fell into a river.
That’s hardly a scandal.
It was bad luck.
From now on, Yena and Sienna don’t breathe a word of this.
Seren slipped and fell, Prince Knox happened to be passing.
That’s all it was.” She spread her hands and turned to Seren with a warm smile.
“Your grandmother isn’t angry with you, sweetheart.
She worries.
That’s all.” Eliza had opened her mouth, dissatisfied with Rebecca for interrupting her.
Rebecca’s family was the most famous merchant house in the region, and many times the daily costs of the house were subsidized by this daughter-in-law’s wealth.
Even though she was not satisfied, she could not afford to offend her.
She let out a cold huff and did not continue.
Seren looked at the woman before her.
Rebecca Hawthorne was a graceful beauty, soft-spoken and full-figured, the kind of wolf who always seemed warm and generous.
She spoke with careful words that always seemed reasonable.
She had been in the Hawthorne keep for almost twenty years, and she knew every room as well as Seren did.
Seren knew what lay beneath that warmth.
In the first life, when the Briarwood pack came demanding a marriage alliance, it was Rebecca who had moved first, soft-footed and gracious, with the full weight of her charm behind it.
She and Yena had gone to Knox together.
Not to offer themselves, but to suggest Wendy.
Wendy, who was young and gentle and came with the standing of the First Branch’s bloodline.
Wendy, who was Seren’s daughter and therefore useful without being a threat to anyone who mattered.
Knox had accepted, as they knew he would, the case made beautifully.
Rebecca had even wept a little, saying how difficult it was to part with someone so dear to them all.
Wendy had been sixteen.
She died screaming on a mountain pass.
After her death, Yena had been given Wendy’s title, Wendy’s keep, Wendy’s everything, the spoils passed to the family that had arranged the sacrifice in the first place.
Seren closed her eyes, one breath and then two.
Rebecca had not acted alone.
She and Bianca had almost certainly spoken long before Knox ever arrived, the agreement already in place by the time anyone thought to ask Seren’s opinion.
The whole thing had been built to look like grief and necessity.
When Seren opened her eyes again, her gaze was cold.
“Aunt Rebecca,” Seren said, her voice low and even, “I think you agree with me.” Rebecca’s smile stiffened.
She looked at Seren.
That round face, round eyes, and round nose, coupled with what had always been a timid appearance, had once easily left an impression of stupidity and foolishness.
Rebecca had always found Seren easy to dismiss, easy to manipulate.
Now it was otherwise.
She did not know when the timid appearance had disappeared, replaced by something more serious and settled, a quality that had nothing to do with posture or bearing.
Not quite a sudden pressure, but a small, growing sense of distance.
In that breath, Rebecca had the strange sensation that the person in front of her was not the foolish daughter of the First Branch, but some woman of higher standing, the kind that made sharper and more careful people wary.
In the next second, Seren turned away, and the moment passed.
Her wolf had caught it too.
Rebecca’s scent had carried a flicker of something that was not quite alarm but was adjacent to it, the instinctive response of a wolf who has read the rank of the animal across from her and found it was not what she assumed.
It had lasted less than a breath.
Rebecca’s composure had closed over it immediately, but the wolf did not forget.
“Aunt Rebecca,” Seren said pleasantly, “since you are here.
I wanted to raise something with Grandmother.” She turned to Eliza, her expression open, a line between her brows.
“Several of my personal items have gone missing over the past weeks.
Small things, a hair comb, a piece of embroidery, a jar of ointment from Mother’s chest.
Greta noticed it first, but we couldn’t be sure, so we waited.” She folded her hands.
“The timing is strange.
The disappearances started shortly after the new servants arrived in the North courtyard.
I don’t know them.
None of them were chosen by my parents.
I think, for everyone’s peace of mind, it would be better to let them go.” Rebecca’s expression moved with practiced ease into something soft and reasonable.
“Oh, sweetheart, those servants were placed there for your benefit.
Your parents have been away so long, and the North courtyard was understaffed.
We were only trying to help.” She clicked her tongue.
“Losing small things.
That happens.
Combs go missing, jars get misplaced.
I wouldn’t be too quick to point fingers at the new girls.” “I’m not pointing fingers,” Seren said.
Her voice was light, her expression guileless.
“I’m asking for my own comfort.
Greta and the others were chosen by my parents personally.
I’m not used to strangers in my rooms.
It makes me uneasy.” She paused.
“I’m sure the new servants are fine.
I don’t know them.
And I would feel much safer with people I trust around me.” “Of course,” Rebecca said, unchanged, her voice as smooth as before.
“No one wants you to feel uneasy.
But these girls have been thoroughly vetted.
I oversaw it myself.
Give them a little time.
You’ll get used to them.” “Aunt Rebecca.” Seren’s tone did not change, but something in it settled, the way a door settles into its frame when it is properly closed.
“My father placed Greta and the others in my service.
To remove them, or to bring in replacements without his knowledge, would not be appropriate.
He would want to know.” She smiled, small and polite.
“I’ll write to him about it, of course.
I’m sure he’ll have a preference.” The warmth in Rebecca’s expression did not leave, but something behind it went careful.
“There’s no need to trouble your father over something so minor,” she said.
“He has enough on his mind with the campaign.
If it makes you more comfortable, we can look into it ourselves.
I’m sure the matter can be resolved without trouble.” Seren smiled and said nothing further.
Her wolf had watched the entire exchange, already certain of the outcome.
Rebecca had reached for something and found the ground gone.
She would not try the same approach again, not directly, but she would try something else.
She always did.
Eliza was growing impatient.
She waved her hand dismissively and said, “Enough of this nonsense.
Rebecca, bring Blake, the rest of you out.
All this fuss makes my head ache.” Rebecca carried Blake to Eliza’s couch and settled him beside her.
“We’ll leave you in peace, Mother.
Blake will keep you company.” Seren was already moving toward the door.
She did not look back.
Behind her, she heard the soft sounds of the room rearranging itself—footsteps, murmured exchanges, the creak of the settle as Eliza settled into her chair.
The Hearth Hall closing up like a fist after a blow.
The young woman in the dark red embroidered dress moved through the corridor without hurrying.
Before the river, Seren had always loved to wear brightly colored ones.
With no parents at her side, she had never known how to dress properly, always looking unsophisticated and out of place.
Now the crimson drew out the fairness of her complexion in a way the brighter colors never had.
She had the same face as before, the same round features—yet something in her bearing had grown harder to look past.
And there was something else, a gravity that had never been there before.
She was nearly at the entrance to the North courtyard when she stopped.
A servant girl stood off the corridor where the stone passage opened onto the outer path.
She wasn’t sweeping or carrying anything, only standing there, positioned where she had a clear view of anyone coming from the Hearth Hall.
She was one of the new ones.
Seren did not know her name.
She had not been there when Seren walked through an hour ago.
Their eyes met.
The girl looked away.
Not the quick drop of a servant caught idle—something slower, more intentional, the specific patience of someone deciding how to arrange their face.
She turned toward the wall and busied herself with nothing.
Seren marked the face.
The height.
The particular way she had been standing—angled, not quite watching the door, but close enough to it that watching the door would have required only a small turn of the head.
She kept walking.