A pair of icy blue eyes, laced with burning resentment, stayed fixed on the man.
Standing before her once again was her elder brother, Anthony. The deep resentment her soul carried flooded her veins, gradually twisting her pheromones into something sharp and dangerous. The change was subtle, but still noticeable to both Ophelia and Matteo. They glanced her way and found her staring daggers at the figure on the stage.
No one said a word. Eventually, the acrid trace in the air dissipated until it was no longer noticeable. The cold in her eyes dimmed, just slightly. She returned to her usual composed self.
“Someone is quite moody today.” Ophelia murmured while her eyes fixed forward. “I’m certain I gave you enough rest.”
“It’s nothing.” Stella exhaled. Her tone came out gentler than she thought. “I just recalled something unpleasant.”
“Good, because it’s going to be a long day.” Ophelia’s tone was sharp, almost inconsiderate. “I hope you haven’t forgotten your duties.”
“You don’t have to remind me.” Stella replied firmly, followed by another sigh.
Their lighthearted bickering managed to lighten Stella’s mood slightly. As her attention drifted to Ophelia, she didn’t notice a pair of eyes had found her in the crowd. It wasn’t that hard to spot her. Their silky black hair ran only in the Albrecht bloodline, the mark of the rightful heir to the dukedom. Anthony’s stern violet eyes glared at the distant figure; just the sight of her already set his blood boiling. However, he let none of it show, not before the crowd.
“As the duke of Northland, I wish you all the best with your hunt and utmost safety.”
Applause followed the end of his speech before his eyes cut sharply toward Marquis Chevalier’s direction. The façade dropped. His deep violet eyes churned with a raging fire beneath them.
“Marquis Chevalier, we’re going to talk about this later,” Anthony muttered, animosity boiling just beneath the surface, ready to burst. The only thing holding him back was the crowd around them. “You’d better have a damn great explanation for why I saw that filth here.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Marquis Hugh replied evenly, unaffected by the duke’s aggression. He watched as the duke strode past him.
“The First Snow Hunt is about to begin shortly, and I’d like to remind all representatives of the rules.”
The man who appeared to be the captain of the noble guards stepped forward, head held high, and recited each rule with precision and ease. Every guard in the campground wore the same uniform, a red cape draped over the left shoulder, a distinct shield-and-ram emblem displayed on their chest. The symbol belonged only to the guards of Fiennes. This year, they had been tasked with securing the campground and escorting each representative into the Silverwood Forest.
House Fiennes—one of the three families that made up the Trinity of Northland, alongside the House Valens and House Rothschild. They were known to carry the prideful bloodline of knights and warriors that resided in Northland for centuries. The three served as the main pillars that protected the nation from all forms of harm and invasion, with each family specialized in completely different styles of combat. Fiennes’ jurisdiction spanned every residential area, from cities to towns across Northland, where they maintained order and enforced the laws to keep the peace.
The rules of the hunt were simple, though they could feel overwhelming for young nobles participating for the first time. To summarize: all representatives had to be at least seventeen years old to be eligible, for safety reasons. Hunting was permitted only within the designated grounds, and only approved animals could be targeted. Each representative had to be accompanied by two knights, with at least one being a Fiennes guard. Lastly, the hunt would officially begin at the sound of the first horn and end at the closing horn. Every kill made by a representative would be counted toward their house's total score, and whichever house scored the highest score would win the hunt.
From a distance, Stella watched several ladies present ribbons to the representatives. It was a small ritual wishing them victory and protection. Omegas, or ladies in general, would tie a ribbon around a loved one’s arm or wrist—often a family member or their lover. However, many young ladies also used this moment as a chance to offer the ribbon to someone they were interested in.
Shortly after, the first horn sounded—
Marking the beginning of the hunt, one figure after another departed from the campground, and the crowd gradually dispersed as things grew quiet. Not long after, a young red-haired lady caught their attention out of the corner of their eyes. A familiar figure they knew well.
“It is wonderful to meet you two here.” Dahlia strode forward, each step with confidence and grace. Her eyes found the couple before she lowered her head slightly. “How do you do, Lady Stella, Lady Ophelia.”
“How do you do, Lady Dahlia.” A perfect smile touched Ophelia’s lips. “I believe this is the first time we’ve spoken to one another.”
“Indeed. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” Dahlia replied promptly, smiling, attempting to leave a good impression on the famous young lady of Chevalier.
“My, I’m relieved to see you’re doing well,” Ophelia let out a quiet exhale, expressing her concern for the red-haired alpha. “I heard about what happened with Lady Mona. Isn’t she one of your close friends?”
“Ah, yes…” Dahlia sighed, feigning sadness. “It saddens me to learn that Mona is behind the defamation of Miss Lisette.”
Lady Mona was one of Dahlia’s circle of friends, and it was revealed that she was the one who purchased the scent enhancer used to defame Lisette. The buyer’s name on the receipt belonged to one of Lady Mona’s personal servants, which didn’t take the academy long to uncover. The case was further sealed by Elaine’s testimony, confirming the individual she had seen alone in the room that day was Lady Mona. Once cornered by the evidence, Mona confessed. The Academy Board decided she would be on a two-week suspension and was required to write an apology letter to both the Academy and House Clervaux.
“I never thought I’d be the one deceived by my own friends.” Dahlia turned to Stella, her voice carrying quiet sincerity.
She confessed that many of the rumors she had heard about Lisette had come from Mona, and that she didn’t doubt her simply because she was one of her close friends. Once the truth came to light, the red-haired alpha felt it was only right to offer her sincerest apology to Lisette and Stella.
“My sincerest apologies to you, and to Miss Lisette.” Dahlia lowered her head once again. “If I’d been a better judge of character, perhaps I could’ve stopped Lady Mona before things escalated.”
“Lisette is the one you should be apologizing to, not me.” Stella replied, her arms crossed.
“You’re absolutely right.” Dahlia nodded in agreement. “Nevertheless, I still wish to apologize to you as well for the misunderstandings I had.”
Before their conversation could carry on, Dahlia was called away by her waiting parents. She turned to the couple and apologized for cutting their meeting short. Just as she turned to go, Stella strode toward her.
“You’ve forgotten something, Lady Dahlia.” Stella’s words made the red-haired classmate turn around.
Stella closed the distance between them and grabbed her wrist. A strong scent of pinewood hit Dahlia’s nose at once, threatening, and her instincts snapped taut. Stella’s pheromones were something close to a threat.
“Take back your apology. I don’t want it.”
“—!” Dahlia was caught off guard, and her gaze locked with those blue eyes. Cold and distant. But that didn’t cause her composure to ripple. She had no intention of letting another alpha intimidate her so easily. “My, what’s this sudden hostility, Lady Stella?”
She fired back with equal intensity, and the burning scent of vetiver didn’t go unnoticed. However, Stella never saw her as a threat to begin with. Her eyes remained indifferent, piercing straight into Dahlia, like an adult looking down at a child. It was Stella’s silence that made something inside the proud alpha shiver.
“If you have a personal problem with me, face me like an alpha with dignity and honor.” Stella’s voice dropped to a glacial temperature, sharp as a blade pressed to her throat. “If you even have that in you, of course. Since you seem to prefer hiding behind your servile followers.”
“You—!” Dahlia’s brows furrowed, resisting against Stella’s presence.
“If I find you harming my friends again with your dirty tactics, consider your throat the next thing I come for.”
Stella released Dahlia’s wrist before she returned to Ophelia’s side as though nothing had happened. The red-haired alpha glared after her, livid. No one had ever spoken to her with such condescension before, not even her parents, and her pride wasn’t going to let that slide. She cursed Stella’s name under her breath, silently vowing that one day she would make sure the Albrecht alpha paid for the disrespect.
Ophelia watched it unfold from a distance. Even without hearing the conversation, she already had a hunch what it was about. Once Stella returned to her side, she couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
“So, what did Lady Dahlia forget?”
“I don’t need her pathetic, fake apology.” Stella crossed her arms. “She can take it back with her.”
Stella saw through Dahlia’s pretentious act to paint herself as innocent from the start. Mona couldn’t possibly have acted alone. Their interactions had been minimal, and she had no real motive to target Lisette, let alone Stella herself. She wouldn’t be surprised if Dahlia manipulated her servile followers into doing her bidding.
“Oh my.” Ophelia let out a delighted laugh, glancing at Stella with a subtle glint of pride and affection. “It’s cute to watch my alpha bare her fangs.”
“Excuse me.” Stella narrowed her gaze. “I’m not a dog.”
Before they could leave the assembly grounds, one of Chevalier's servants found them and approached Ophelia. Her relayed the message close to her ear, and then departed to return to his duties.
“Matteo, return to our tent.” Ophelia turned to her little brother, then she glanced toward her fiancée. “Stella and I have important matters to attend to.”
The young boy nodded, reluctant. It was clear that he wanted to stay with them both, but he knew that his sister had just received new orders from their parents. Once Matteo left, Stella turned to her.
“What is it this time?” Stella asked, her arms crossed.
“You’ll know soon.” She led the way, walking ahead of the alpha while expecting Stella to follow closely and obediently.
At Marquis Hugh’s tent—
The duke was visibly irritated, livid even, demanding answers from the marquis and marchioness of Chevalier. The servants had prepared the finest black tea in Northland for him, but he was too restless to sit and join them at the table.
“Explain yourself, Marquis.” Anthony shot daggers at the pink-haired middle-aged man. “This is not what we have agreed upon. Why did I see her here?”
Hugh languidly took a sip of his tea, leaned back in his chair, and let his gaze drift toward the young duke. Anthony’s rage meant nothing to the marquis. No trace of worry showed in his demeanor.
“It is for the sake of your public image, Your Grace.” Marquis answered with grace, unaffected by the duke’s rage. “People would question Lady Stella’s absence, especially given that she’s my daughter’s fiancée.”
He laid down the facts effortlessly, his shoulders relaxed as he spoke. Clearly, he held the upper hand in this conversation. Stella and Ophelia’s engagement was no secret. If the Chevaliers did as Anthony demanded and kept the young heir hidden from the public, it would promptly raise suspicion.
“Then why did you send her to the academy in the first place?! Why wasn’t I informed?!”
Anthony’s voice rose again. Through his intelligence, he had learned that Stella had enrolled at the Academy some time ago, financially supported by the Marquis himself. It was a decision made without his acknowledgment. Hugh’s demeanor remained composed and unaffected.
“…Your Grace, your eagerness to ascend to the dukedom has clouded your judgment,” Hugh replied, his tone unhurried. “What do you think the civilians and other families would make of you, impatiently marrying off your sister for political gain right after your ascension, while the entire nation still grieves the late duke’s passing?”
“You—!”
Anthony clenched his teeth, unable to find the right words to argue back. The duke’s silence was enough to tell how powerless he was in this conversation. At the very least, Anthony understood the gravity of his position.
“If House Chevalier risked locking Lady Stella away behind our gates, it would look…rather suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hugh dismantled the argument point by point, as though His Grace were nothing more than a foolish man. He kindly reminded him that no matter how much Anthony despised his sister, he couldn’t deny who she was. An alpha child born to the former duke and war heroine of the nation. With all of House Valens standing behind her, pledging their unconditional loyalty, they wouldn’t stay idle if anything happened to Stella.
“Certainly, there is no doubt that the Lemaires and Valens are loyal to House Albrecht, to your father, specifically. That loyalty doesn’t necessarily extend to you, Your Grace.” Marquis brought the rim of the cup to his lips, took a small sip, and lowered it slightly. He chose his words with deliberate care, as though weaving a spell to bend the duke to his will. “With your father’s passing, I’m certain you’re aware of who the Lemaires and Valens will pledge their loyalty to next.”
“…”
The answer was clear to everyone. Rumors would always be detrimental and toxic, even to an Albrecht. Wherever Stella went, people noticed her presence or absence. Following Anthony’s exact orders blindly would cast House Chevalier in a poor light. That wasn’t a trade the marquis was willing to make.
“Your dissatisfaction is justified.” Marquis continued, his tone at ease. “Nonetheless, it is my duty to ensure the best possible outcome for you, whether you favor it or not.”
“Grrr…”
“If your sister is still such a concern, rest assured,” Marquis said, his tone carrying a subtle note of confidence. Of all his children, at least one had proven capable of surpassing his expectations. “I daresay my daughter has Lady Stella under her control.”
“How can you be certain of that?” Anthony pressed further. His tone and eyes carried undeniable doubt.
“It is not that difficult for an omega to seduce and manipulate an alpha, Your Grace.” A middle-aged woman’s voice joined the conversation, her lips curling into a perfect smile. “For our daughter, Ophelia, this is simply child’s play.” This story is hosted at NovelPing.
Marchioness Shannon chuckled softly, her shoulders void of any tension, and took another sip of tea from her cup. Unable to find any words to say, Anthony dropped into his seat with more force than necessary.
“You can trust us, Your Grace.” Marquis said, his lips curling into a smile, perfected after years of mastering deception and manipulation. “After all, our allegiance was forged that night we became accomplices.”
In this large, extravagant tent prepared personally by Marquis Chevalier, the family emblem was clearly visible from afar: the symbol of the majestic black wolf, House Albrecht. Inside, a daughter and her mother had been talking for quite some time already, with no end in sight. Judging by Blake's body language, this was far from a pleasant conversation.
“I spoke with Marquis Haines earlier today.” The middle-aged woman, her curly blonde hair tied neatly into a bun behind her head, informed her daughter of the arrangement she made without Blake’s consent. “We have an arrangement tomorrow morning, between you and Lord Marius.”
“Mother, I’ve made it clear to you before. I refuse to attend the marriage interview.”
Blake exhaled loudly. She had lost count of how many times she had to repeat this to her mother. Her lips pursed, her tone laced with disapproval while trying to stay composed. The workload she had been carrying these past months had worn her patience thin.
"It's time you abandoned this childish game, Blake." The dowager duchess of Northland commanded the room without raising her voice. "An omega's purpose is to serve the greatness of the family. Nothing else has ever been required of you."
To Yvette, Blake's devotion to her work as the Albrecht family's secretary was nothing more than a childish indulgence, a waste of an omega's true potential. She wasn’t outright against Blake’s pursuit of the role, solely because she was strongly supported by the former duke and Alicia. However, the circumstances had changed now. Blake was already at her prime for marriage, and it was Yvette's duty to see the match with Lord Marius proceed exactly as planned.
“When I was your age, I had already given birth to His Grace.” Her magenta eyes held no warmth, even though the person standing before her was her daughter. "The heir of Haines is the rightful match for our family, securing our alliance for generations to come. You will do this for the family's sake. Isn't that what you've always claimed to want?”
Beneath her graceful demeanor, she hid a deep frustration and anger, as her fingers curled up into a fist. Ever since she was a young girl, Yvette had always placed Anthony as her top priority—molding him into the perfect heir to the dukedom. As for Blake, as an omega, she was treated like a chess piece, meant to serve House Albrecht, meant to serve Anthony once he became the duke of Northland. Nothing more, nothing less.
“…Out of everyone, why must it be Lord Marius?” Blake's tone was stern and deliberate. She held her composure with visible restraint. Something inside her had begun to boil. "Did you forget what he did to Stella and me back then?"
“That's simply what alphas are like.” Yvette didn't even look up, as though the subject were trivial. “That’s simply how young alphas are, and it's hardly worth dwelling on. Lord Marius offered his apology before for his little mistake.”
“Little mistake, you say?”
Words slipped from Blake’s lips, distinctly sharp with anger. This so-called little mistake was the very thing that severed generations of allegiance between House Albrecht and House Haines. Everyone in Northland knew what happened: the incident where young Marius had attacked the former duke’s daughters. Seven years had passed, and it remained one of the most terrifying moments of Blake’s life, one that haunted her for years. How could her mother possibly ask her to forget that man who had tried to lay his hands on her? The same man who brutally assaulted Stella until she was drenched in her own blood? Even after everything, all he offered was a half-hearted apology. Just for the sake of formality.
“You'd have the grace to move on by now, Blake.” Yvette said, her arms stayed crossed, as though the subject had begun to bore her. “At the end of it, nothing happened to you. Lord Marius never actually did lay hands on you.”
“How could you say so dismissively like that?!”
Blake’s voice rose as frustration bled into every word. Sometimes, she questioned whether the woman before her was even truly her mother. Even now, her magenta eyes remained still and devoid of motherly warmth, almost bored and uninterested. Before the conversation could escalate any further, the guards stationed outside the Albrecht tent stepped in, informing the dowager duchess of the important guest’s arrival.
“Your Grace, you have a visitor,” the knight announced, bowing his head. “It is Lady Ophelia of Chevalier. She has come to pay her respects and extend her greetings.”
“Oh?” Yvette’s attention shifted from her daughter to their esteemed guest at once. “Well then, do welcome her in.”
Blake let out a long exhale. They were far from reaching a mutual agreement, and Yvette clearly had no intention of pursuing this matter further. Whatever the dowager duchess decided was final. With permission, Ophelia strode gracefully into the tent.
“How do you do, Your Grace.” Ophelia dipped her head lightly.
Yvette’s eyes lingered on the Chevalier noblewoman for only a moment before quickly finding the other figure following behind her. Of course, she was already aware Stella was present in this campground, but hadn’t expected that child to visit. That jet-black hair, inherited from her husband, caught the light, sticking out like a thorn that refused to be removed.
“Well, well.” Her magenta eyes held no warmth, laced with subtle condescension. She wore a pretentious smile to mask her animosity towards Stella. “I did not expect to see you here too, Stella.”
“How do you do, Your Grace,” Stella responded. Formal, yet distant. "You are looking well."
Even a second felt like an eternity. The brief moment of silence as their eyes locked said everything that needed saying. Stella didn’t shy away. She met the dowager duchess’s gaze head-on, composed and dignified, almost as though daring to challenge her authority. Fortunately, Ophelia was there to cut through the rising tension with her smile.
“My mother would love to invite Her Grace and Lady Blake for afternoon tea at the Chevalier’s private tent,” Ophelia said with grace, confident and natural. “She asked me to extend the invitation to you both personally.”
“I see. Then it would be rude to decline your mother’s warm invitation.” Yvette wore a rehearsed smile, as her eyes stayed locked on the young lady. “Please lead the way.”
“That would be an honor.” Ophelia smiled promptly, then escorted the Dowager Duchess and Lady Blake without further delay.
Once they arrived at the Marchioness Chevalier’s private tent, the air carried the aroma of butter and freshly brewed tea. A wide array of fine desserts sat displayed on the table, catching the midday light. There was a seat vacant next to Marchioness Shannon, meant for Ophelia.
“Stella.” The omega turned to her fiancée, arms still linked with hers. She gently brushed her stray hair from Stella’s forehead, tucked it behind her ears, and a soft smile touched her lips. “Wait for me over there, okay? It might take a while.”
“I can wait as long as you need me to.” Stella nodded, smiling, showing no signs of resistance to Ophelia’s touch.
Their intimacy between them didn’t go unnoticed. Everyone at the table watched quietly, especially Yvette. What surprised her was how compliant the young alpha she had become with Ophelia was. This was far from the Stella she remembered: proud and untamable, just like her biological mother.
“My, aren’t you adorable?” Ophelia chuckled, then told her to wait nearby, somewhere within sight, until their afternoon tea was over.
The chill of early winter brushed through her hair as Stella stood in the shadow of the trees. While she waited, she quietly observed the group from afar. Her serene blue eyes swept across the table. Marchioness Shannon spoke with the dowager duchess with familiarity. Judging by their body language and expressions, they were likely acquaintances for years. Beside them were the Marquis’s two other wives. Lady Clarrissa, Matteo’s mother, kept her participation minimal, while Lady Florence and Eleanor engaged actively with the dowager duchess.
Stella managed to catch a few words now and then, but most of it was inaudible. Only soft chatter and occasional giggles reached her. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on the blonde-haired omega. Despite her serene demeanor and smile, Blake rarely touched her cup or her dessert.
Meanwhile, Yvette’s gaze drifted to the young alpha standing placidly nearby. This wasn’t what she had expected. The Stella from a few months ago was the spitting image of her birth mother. Adamant, prideful, and utterly impossible to control. When the marquis and marchioness had first told her their daughter had Stella under her control, the dowager duchess had taken it with some reservation. However, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all.
“I must commend you, Lady Ophelia.” She turned, letting the amusement surface. “I had my concerns that Stella might prove too difficult and that she would outright oppose the engagement. It seems I underestimated you.”
“Your Grace is too kind.” Ophelia's smile was unhurried, entirely confident. “I simply know what she desires, and the rest followed naturally.”
The conversation drifted across several topics before the marchioness turned the subject to Ophelia's academic achievements. With the particular joy of a proud mother, she spoke of her standing at the top of the year, perfect scores in every examination, effortlessly.
“I still have much to learn.” Ophelia’s smile softened as she turned slightly toward Yvette. "If I may, Your Grace, I have a small request."
Yvette regarded her with mild interest. "You may."
“I'm currently taking a diplomacy course, and there are a few areas I’ve found myself uncertain about.” Ophelia’s eyes drifted to Blake, who was seated beside the dowager duchess. "If it wouldn't be an inconvenience, I was hoping to ask for Lady Blake's advice."
It was a harmless request, so Yvette raised no objections. There was plenty of time to spare today before tomorrow’s arrangement with Marquis Haines. Besides, she saw potential in the young lady of Chevalier, a clever one, worth keeping close as an ally to both herself and House Albrecht. Perhaps this could be a first step toward strengthening their allegiance.
“Blake, why don’t you lend a hand to Lady Ophelia?” Yvette said.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Blake responded as her eyes found Ophelia across the table. “That would be my pleasure.”
After the afternoon gathering at the marchioness’s tent, Blake was escorted to Ophelia’s lodging for a small private tutoring session. It was a moment of peace she could enjoy. Blake wanted some distance from her mother, even only for a short while. Her exchange with Ophelia turned out far more pleasant than she had expected. With both being avid pursuers of knowledge, Blake found they shared more common interests than she had anticipated.
“If you haven’t read it, I recommend ‘The Ethics of Diplomacy’ by Lord Bastien Chaplin.” Blake named one of her favorite selections, mentioning that Ophelia could borrow a copy from the academy’s library. “It touches on the nuances of diplomatic negotiation and the moral responsibilities that come with it. Perhaps it might pique your interest.”
“Ah, yes. My tutor once recommended that book to me, some time ago,” Ophelia replied, wearing a soft smile. “Since you’ve spoken so highly of it, I suppose that warrants a purchase.”
Between them lay a book, Introduction to Diplomacy, along with papers full of notes that Ophelia wrote diligently throughout her studies. Blake had met many people, and something about Ophelia deeply impressed her. The way that the young omega carried herself spoke volumes about her character. Her presence, her speech, and her quiet grace were clearly built on years of diligence and perseverance.
“I believe your drink must be cold by now.” Ophelia glanced at the cup beside Blake. “I’ll have my maid bring you warm tea.”
She called Emily over to replace Blake’s cup of tea before they resumed their session. For a quick moment, Blake took that chance to glance around. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an Albrecht guard, who had been following her closely, standing near the entrance of the tent. However, his watchful gaze didn’t go unnoticed. Under the pretense of ensuring Blake’s safety, his true mission was to observe and report her every interaction back to the dowager duchess.
Stella kept her distance, as though they were strangers, never once exchanging a glance with Blake despite sitting so close. It was telling that she knew that the Albrecht guard was watching them. To avoid arousing suspicions, the black-haired noble kept her distance from her sister. Stella acted naturally, careful not to alert the guard. Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned back in her seat, flipping through the pages of the book she had brought along for leisure.
“There’s one more part I would like you to explain to me,” Ophelia said, sliding a paper across the table to the older omega.
“…!”
Her gaze sharpened slightly, locking onto the few lines written at the top. That handwriting, she noticed it instantly. It belonged to Stella.
This was Stella’s message to her.
For a moment, Blake paused, questions flooding her mind. She couldn’t comprehend Ophelia’s motive, but this wasn’t the time to question her. The letter demanded her undivided attention. Her serene violet of her eyes dropped to the next line below.
[I will keep it short and straight to the point…
I know that Dowager Duchess and Anthony are pushing your engagement with Lord Marius.]
She held back her surprise, but the flinch of her fingers gave her away. How did Stella know about this? The question lingered, but she forced herself to keep reading.
“Please give me a moment, Lady Ophelia.” A rehearsed smile touched her lips. “It’s been a while since I last read this. I may need some time to recall it.”
“Not at all, please take your time.” Ophelia smiled, unhurried, and brought the rim of the cup to her lips.
[I’m sure you’re wondering how I knew. I can’t tell you, not yet.
Use me to protect yourself, Blake. For once, be selfish for your own sake.
You always put others first, sacrificing for the family and for me. Let me do this for you instead.
After Father’s passing, it became my responsibility to protect your freedom, as your sister, as the only alpha left in the family. You know what I meant, right?]
“Stella…” Blake whispered, audible only to herself, and her fingers curled up.
She was still in disbelief. Did her little sister truly write it? In just half a year, Stella had grown up so much that Blake could hardly believe it. Each time they crossed paths, Blake noticed Stella growing to resemble their father, the former duke.
[Please love yourself, and put yourself first. At least, for my sake.
I promise I will protect your freedom. Just say the word, and I will fight for it with my life on the line.]
Something about the weight of Stella’s words touched somewhere deep inside her. The letters distorted as tears welled in her eyes. Blake held them back, took a deep breath, and forced herself to keep reading. The only people who ever told her to be selfish were Duke Cedric, Lady Alicia, and now her younger sister.
[PS. You can’t marry without my blessing. I need to be sure you’re with someone who loves you as much as our father and I.]
Once she reached the end of the letter, Blake needed a moment to process it. She looked up and met those serene green eyes, watching her closely. Something unreadable flickered behind them. What was her motive for delivering Stella’s letter? What did she really want from this? She let out a quiet sigh, then reached for the pen nearby before lifting her gaze.
“Lady Ophelia, do you mind if I write on your notes?” Blake asked.
“You’re more than welcome to,” Ophelia said, still smiling.
Blake scribbled and slid the paper back across the table. Ophelia’s eyes drifted to the bottom of the page. Her smile remained. Her expression gave nothing away. Only the corner of her lips curved upward.
[What is your intention?]
Blake had many questions about how Stella had learned of her engagement to Marius. She couldn’t have overheard the conversation with her mother. With Stella accompanying them this entire time, this letter couldn’t have been pre-written unless she had known this in advance. The young Chevalier noble reached for the pen nearby, scribbled her reply, then slid it back across the table. Blake’s eyes found the answer, written beneath her question.
[The more you feed your puppy treats, the more obedient they become to their master—]
“—Don’t you think so, Lady Blake?”
Ophelia finished her answer aloud, tone almost condescending, and Blake’s gaze snapped to meet hers.
“It’s so adorable watching the little puppy beg for my help.” A soft chuckle escaped Ophelia’s lips. Her smirk was laced with joy. “She made it difficult for me to refuse her.”
Blake’s brows furrowed, her eyes remained fixed on the pink-haired noble as though she was glaring at an enemy. Something in those indecipherable green eyes left her with an unsettling feeling. With her experience encountering various kinds of people, Ophelia was, by far, one of the most dangerous people to deal with.
“You…!” Blake murmured. Her fingers curled, and her shoulders tensed.
“I think I’ve taken up enough of your time today, Lady Blake.” Ophelia said, loud and clear for everyone to hear, before her expression switched into a perfected, sweet smile. “Thank you for answering my questions today.”
That was an invitation for her to leave. Blake could only stare at this enigmatic lady before her, letting out a soft exhale. Unfortunately, their conversation ended there before she could press further. Escorted by her mother’s men, the blonde-haired Albrecht returned to her lodging, her mind lost in pensive silence. Stella’s words from the letter echoed in her mind, stirring a memory she had nearly forgotten.
She was not alone in this predicament. She never had been in the first place.
“…”
Stella watched Blake disappear by the entrance of the tent, arms crossed, and let out a quiet exhale.
She knew the risk of acting on knowledge of the future, which could alter the present considerably, but she wasn’t the kind to stand idle after knowing what her elder sister was about to endure for the next three years, an arduous ordeal not worth reliving.
This timeline had already shifted greatly ever since she attended the academy a few months ago, for better or for worse. So, she might as well intervene while she still could.
In her previous life, Blake had come dangerously close to marrying Marius. She was pushed into it by Anthony and Yvette, who forced the wedding forward regardless of her wishes. It was only with Viscount Lemaire’s help that Blake escaped just days before the wedding ceremony, fleeing to the Valens estate.
Not long after Stella inherited the dukedom, she was left to untangle the mess Yvette and Anthony left behind for the family. They had gone so far as to forge Blake’s signature on a marriage certificate with Lord Marius before the wedding ceremony ever took place. Their intent was clear: to trap Blake in an inescapable contract. For months, House Albrecht fought in court to have the forged documents invalidated. Although they won the case, to settle the matter peacefully with House Haines, Albrecht was forced to pay substantial compensation for the wedding preparations and costs. It was a price Stella was willing to pay to protect Blake, though it placed House Albrecht in a difficult financial situation for several months afterward.
“Well then, that’s one matter sorted. Time to move on to the next…” Stella sighed, then she turned towards Ophelia’s sleeping quarters. She strode over and stopped right at the curtain divider. “It’s me, Ophelia. May I?”
“Come in.” The reply came from inside.
Stella entered her fiancée’s private space and drew the curtains closed behind her, creating the illusion of privacy. Ophelia had been waiting for Stella to come find her, having generously done as the alpha asked. Earlier that day, in the carriage, the alpha had handed Ophelia the letter meant for Blake. Stella knew what she was getting herself into when she offered to pay any price for it. Perhaps the flicker of desperation in her eyes that piqued Ophelia’s interest.
“Thank you for passing the letter to Blake,” Stella said, keeping her voice soft and low enough that no one outside the curtain would overhear.
“I hope you don’t mistake my intentions,” Ophelia responded, her tone almost distant. “I did it out of plain curiosity. To what extent will you offer yourself to me?”
“…Name your price,” Stella exhaled, crossing her arms, cutting straight to the chase.
“Let’s see…” Ophelia wore an unhurried smile. “Things have been rather peaceful for far too long, and it’s starting to bore me. You’ll need to work harder to keep me entertained.”
“What are you talking about?” Stella asked, unable to follow what the omega was implying.
“I’ll give you credit for being a placid fiancée so far, but that is far from exciting.” Ophelia grabbed Stella by the collar, abruptly yanked her forward, and their faces were a few inches apart. “I haven’t seen you writhe nearly enough. It’s getting boring.”
Stella was caught off guard, heat crawling up to her face as she tried to pull back. But her resistance was only met with another forceful tug, bringing her ear within a breath of Ophelia’s lips. The sweet scent of lavender filled her senses, weakening her guard.
“I want you to mark me, Stella.” Ophelia whispered, her lips almost grazing her ear. “Right here, on my neck.”
“—!!” Heat rushed to her cheeks. Stella pulled back on instinct and stared at the unhinged pink-haired omega. “You…can you at least have some shame?”
“Fufu, that’s more like it.” Ophelia grinned, laced with contentment. Stella had been handling her selfish demands without a struggle. Which meant she needed to raise the stakes to make this prideful alpha writhe beneath her. “That’s the expression I wanted to see.”
Stella’s silence wasn’t a sign of resistance. She was genuinely caught off guard. Now that she thought about it, in three years of living with the Chevaliers, never once did Ophelia demand to be marked by her. It had always been Stella who was marked instead. Was it because, in this life, she managed to deal with Ophelia effortlessly, and now she was searching for novel methods to push her off the edge?
“Hesitating?” Ophelia asked, her smirk widening. “Is Lady Stella of Albrecht too shy to do such a simple as this?”
“…Fine, it’s just a bite anyway.” Stella breathed out a sigh. “Shall we get it over with now?”
Every favor came with a heavy price, but it was worth the trouble she had to go through, whether it was saving Lisette or delivering her message to Blake. Stella told herself it was just a physical mark, nothing more, nothing sentimental. After she had come this far, there was nothing that Ophelia could throw at her now that would make her back down.
“How impatient, though I don’t dislike that side of you.” Ophelia giggled before settling onto the bed. She languidly undid the first button of her dress. “I wonder how good you are at this.”
“Shut up.” Stella snapped back, then took one last look around the room.
The curtains were closed. No one could be watching.
She took another breath before she approached the omega. Ophelia tilted her neck and brushed her hair to the other side. An open invitation, exposing the right side of her nape. As Stella’s deep blue eyes found her neck, her lips pressed together, her stomach twisted into something close to nervousness.
“…” Stella swallowed her pride and frustration before leaning into her fiancée.
Her lips softly brushed against Ophelia’s smooth, porcelain skin, and Ophelia shuddered quietly. Stella’s eyes narrowed as she pondered where to leave a mark. She aimed for somewhere close to her shoulder, where it could be hidden beneath her clothing. Her lips rested at the chosen spot, but her head was then yanked back without warning.
“Aren’t you so sweet and innocent? Others can’t see the mark if you bite there.” Ophelia murmured before she forcefully directed Stella to aim higher on her neck. Precisely where it would be impossible to hide. Her grip on Stella’s hair stayed firm. “Right here. Make sure it will last for days.”
“…” Stella was visibly frustrated, but no words were able to convey her feelings.
The thick scent of lavender permeating from her scent gland didn’t make it easier for Stella. The longer she hesitated, the harder it would be to control her alpha instincts. There was a quiet moment of pause before her teeth sank into Ophelia’s skin. Not too hard, not too light. Stella wouldn't want to give Ophelia an excuse to make her redo it.
“Mm—” Ophelia shivered the moment the alpha’s teeth pressed into her flesh. A soft, broken gasp escaped her lips as she gripped Stella’s shirt tighter. “A-Ah…”
Stella’s shoulder tensed immediately in response to the thick scent of lavender flooding the air so suddenly. It was strong enough that Stella could taste it between her lips. Sweet, enticing, and dangerous. Her entire body went taut, and her fangs sank deeper into her skin, leaving a defined print. She felt every rhythmic pulse beating against her teeth and lips, growing stronger with each passing second.
“N-Nngh…”
The omega beneath her whimpered. So soft, so close to her ear, only meant for Stella to hear. That alone was enough to push the alpha to her limit. Just before the primal urge deep inside her could surface, Stella tore her lips away.
Stella stumbled back a few steps, her hand rose to cover her mouth. Her heartbeat rang in her ears as her chest rose and fell. As for Ophelia, she appeared half-dazed. Her fingers stroked the spot on her neck where the sting lingered, tracing the indentation left behind. Stella’s eyes were naturally drawn to the mark she made, the reddened print on that smooth neck.
“Fufu, I’m impressed.” A soft smile touched Ophelia’s lips. Her cheeks were still flushed. “This would bruise nicely.”
“Just now…that was intentional, wasn’t it?” Stella’s eyes narrowed as Ophelia buttoned her dress back up.
“Hm?” Ophelia asked, genuinely unsure what the alpha meant.
“…Nothing.” Stella breathed out a sigh and turned away, unconsciously hiding her reddened cheeks and ears. “Forget it. I’m leaving.”
“Who gave you permission?” Just before Stella could take a single step, Ophelia grabbed her wrist, yanked her back, causing her to lose her footing and stumble forward onto Ophelia.
“W-Whoa!?” Stella yelped before the soft cushion rushed up to meet her, catching her fall before she could get hurt. “What was that for—”
“You’re not running away this time, coward.” A chuckle escaped between those rosy lips, clearly unbothered by having Stella fall on top of her. “How can you leave an omega right after you’ve marked her? How cruel.”
Stella stayed dazed for a few seconds before registering what happened. Ophelia lay beneath her, hair slightly disheveled. As the sweet fragrance of lavender wafted under her nose, her body reacted instinctively before her mind could follow. Something pulled taut inside her stomach the moment her eyes met the alluring green of Ophelia’s eyes. Fresh and vibrant, reminded Stella of Northland’s spring.
“O-Ophelia…I—”
“Is everything okay? I heard some loud noises earlier—” Matteo pushed the curtain divider to Ophelia’s sleeping quarters, genuinely worried about the noise he had heard. He thought there had been an accident, but the scene before him cut him off mid-sentence. “O-Oh…”
The couple turned to Matteo, caught in the act. The boy froze, rigid as a stone, before blood rushed to his face. He had only come running after hearing loud thuds, but now it felt as though he had walked into something he definitely shouldn’t have.
“I-I didn’t know that—” The boy stuttered, shut the blinds, before bolting away. “I-I’m sorry for interrupting!”
In that moment, Stella couldn’t even begin to describe how mortified she felt. Of course, the closed curtain only gave them the illusion of privacy. She scrambled out of bed and straightened her clothes at once. Such a classic case of terrible timing, one that could be found in a romance novel. Stella had never once imagined that it could happen to her. Yet, here it was. This was going to make for an awkward conversation later, explaining to Matteo that it was an accident and a misunderstanding.
“I have never been this embarrassed in my entire life…” Stella muttered under her breath.
“What is there to be embarrassed about?” Ophelia shrugged, entirely unbothered that her little brother accidentally walked in on them. “We’re engaged, after all.”
“Ugh, I’m not going to bother explaining to a madwoman like you!”
Stella snarled before storming off. Ophelia watched her leave before the corner of her lips curled into a wider grin. It was a rare sight to see the composed alpha visibly frustrated. Her long, slender fingers traced the stinging print on her neck, feeling every indentation left on her skin.
It felt almost like a dream.
Heat rose to her cheeks as she recalled the moment Stella’s lips grazed her skin, teeth sinking into her neck, her warm, mellow scent of pinewood cocooning her. It was the first time any alpha ever marked her. Even though Stella was reluctant, she was still careful and gentle with her.
“I can’t help but wonder what your breaking point is.” Ophelia snickered before her finger drifted to her lips.