The armored SUV rolled to a stop at the entrance to the main hall of the Bloodmoon pack.
Elias stepped down from the front passenger seat and opened the door for Colette.
He bowed low.
“Your Majesty.” “Thank you,” she said, stepping out onto the stone.
Elias gave her a sharp look.
Colette never thanked anyone.
She caught it, but kept walking toward the doors.
Guards along the courtyard snapped to attention as she passed, saluting and bowing.
“Your Majesty!” Maids in the foyer scattered out of her way, heads down, murmuring the same.
Colette turned down a long, candlelit corridor, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor with Elias trailing right on her heels.
Reaching her suite, Elias opened the heavy double doors for her and stepped inside behind her as she unbuttoned her fitted jacket, slipped it off, and dropped it carelessly onto the velvet armchair in the corner before walking straight toward the gilded vanity.
Behind her, Elias remained dead silent.
Through the mirror she watched him open his mouth to speak.
She raised a hand before he could get a word out.
“Not now.
I need to rest.
We’ll talk after my bath.” He closed his mouth, bowed again, and left.
She watched her reflection in the mirror, her violet eyes looking hollow and empty.
Colette’s voice has been silent for some days now.
As much as she tries to get her to talk there has been nothing.
She sighed wearily, reaching up to slowly unwind the thick bandage wrapped around her neck.
A soft knock came after that.
“Come in.” She straightened her posture, her Alpha instincts taking control.
Martha came in carrying a tray, already talking.
“I brought the elderberry oil for that shoulder, Your Majesty, I thought—” Martha stopped dead in her tracks.
“Oh, Goddess!” Martha dropped the tray onto a side table with a loud clatter and rushed forward, her hands reaching out in pure panic.
“Your neck—what happened to you?!” On pure instinct, Colette shifted back violently, flinching away from the sudden touch.
Colette wasn’t used to anyone fretting over her, and her body naturally rejected the contact.
Martha froze mid-step, pulling her hands back as if she’d been burned, terror washing over her face.
She bowed her head frantically.
“F-forgive me, Your Majesty!
I…
I’ll send for the pack doctor at once to take a look at it—” “No need,” Colette snapped.
Martha interjected, stepping forward again in desperate concern.
“But Your Majesty—it looks severe, please let—” BANG!
Rosella slammed her palm flat against the vanity table, the wood echoing like a thunderclap.
“Enough!
I said I don’t need a doctor!” Colette snapped.
Her eyes flashed a deep, lethal purple, her dominant Alpha pheromones filling the room in sharp, suffocating waves as her anger spiked.
Martha shrank back in sheer terror, her inner wolf whimpering as her skin prickled with a desperate urge to shift and submit.
The pressure rolled off her in waves, and Martha’s knees gave out under the weight of it, a whine breaking from her throat as she dropped to the floor, head bowed flat against the wood.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty!
Forgive me for my impudence!” Martha pleaded, trembling violently.
“I’ll send the maids to tend to your bath immediately.” She scrambled backward frantically, and bolted out the door.
Rosella glared after her, her pupils still dilated, but in the vanity glass, it was only Colette’s icy, ruthless face staring back.
Where are you, Colette?
she thought bitterly.
Why can’t I reach you?
She needed to find out what really happened to the real Colette before she was killed.
More than that, she needed to stay alive long enough to plot her own vicious revenge against her stepfather and stepsister back in IronClaw.
Letting out a long, ragged sigh, she rested her hands against the cool vanity table, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped beast.
A soft knock rattled the heavy wood.
Two maids came in and helped her bathe and dress.
The warm bath helped to soothe her sore muscles.
Dressed again, silver hair pinned back, Colette felt more like herself and less like something that had crawled out of a river three days ago.
Colette glanced at the both of them through the vanity mirror.
“Thank you, you may go,” Colette said, smiling a little.
The two maids glanced at each other in surprise, nodded fearfully and scurried out.
She hadn’t seen much of the house since coming home.
Her feet knew the way to the study without her thinking about it, down the long corridor, past the old portraits, through the heavy oak double doors.
Inside, bright lights washed over the study, illuminating the desk ahead and the plush sofa set around a low table off to the far right.
A familiar sense of belonging washed over her as she walked into the room, every step echoing with the ghost of memories she’d lived a hundred times before.
She took her seat behind the wide desk, her eyes drifting straight to the top right drawer.
Reaching out, she pulled it open and pulled out the heavy signet ring of the Blood Moon Pack’s Alpha.
A knock came almost right away.
She put it back in the drawer and answered.
“Come in.” Elias stepped in and bowed.
“Your Majesty.
There’s a backlog from the days you were away.
Morgan wants to see you, there’s repairs pending in the east wing, a staffing issue in the kitchens, and a border dispute waiting on your ruling.” “Send Morgan in an hour.” “I will.” He stayed where he was.
“Alpha, there’s something I want to say.” “Speak.” “I don’t agree with the marriage.” “We’ve been over this.” “I don’t trust your safety with that pack.” “The contract’s signed.
The lawyers send the papers in two days.
I’m marrying him, Elias.
It’s final.” He held her eyes a moment, conflict warring in his eyes.
“Anything else?” He shook his head and bowed, turning to leave.
“Wait.” She hadn’t planned to say it, but it came anyway.
“Find out when they’re holding the burial for Rosella Shawn.
At IronClaw.
I want to attend.” He turned back.
“How do you know that name?” “I want to pay my respects.
As Henrik’s fiancée.
He’s a friend of the SilverFang pack.” “You’ve never cared about IronClaw politics.” “Things change.” “Not like this.” His jaw tightened.
“Not without a reason.” “Enough.” The word came out sharper than she meant, her eyes flashing purple before she could stop it.
Elias’s shoulders dropped a fraction on instinct, even as the doubt stayed plain on his face.
“Get out.” He bowed and left, shutting the door hard behind him.
Colette pulled open the top right drawer once more, her fingers closing around the cool metal of the signet ring.
She slid it onto her finger and stood up.
It was time to get answers.