Colette’s heels caught on the hallway carpet as she strode toward the staff wing with a brisk, confident gait.
The corridor felt vaguely familiar, like a melody heard once but whose origin she couldn’t quite recall.
A man emerged from a side door to block her path: tall, with graying temples, an impeccably tied bow tie beneath his chin, and a thick file tucked under his arm.
He bowed the moment he saw her.
“Alpha.
I was just coming to find you.
I have the…” “Later.” She had already swept past him.
“I’ll have you summoned.” “But it’s…” She didn’t slow down.
Information came first.
If she wanted revenge, she needed to know against whom to direct her anger; and the quickest way to understand a household was through the people who ran it.
She would start with Martha.
She pushed open the heavy service door and stepped out onto the paved walkway.
Staff scattered before her, jaws dropping, while respectful murmurs of “Alpha” drifted in her wake like a draft of air.
She nodded her head curtly.
She still wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, having been abused and looked down on in her previous life as Rosella.
Martha was in the linen room, bathed in a narrow shaft of light and the scent of dry starch; she was folding sheets with such speed that her hands were nothing but a blur.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps, then immediately lowered her gaze.
“Your Majesty.” Colette closed the door behind her, muffling the din of the courtyard.
She let her shoulders drop.
“Martha.
Look at me.” Martha slowly lifted her chin, dread still lurking in the depths of her eyes.
“I apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier.” Colette kept her voice steady.
“You only had my best interests at heart, and I lashed out at you for it.” Martha’s hands stilled against the cotton.
“You don’t have to apologize, Your Majesty.
I overstepped…” “Not at all.” Colette walked around the table to face her.
“You cared about me.
I lost my temper.
I want things to be right between us.” “Right?” Martha’s chest rose and fell as she studied her, as if comparing a familiar face to that of a stranger.
“Of course things are right.
You’ve been carrying a heavy burden lately.” She walked around the table, wiping her palms on her apron.
“I don’t mean to pry, but…
you seem different these days.
Not colder.
Just…
more composed.” Her gaze swept over Colette’s face, finding traces of the past.
“I see a bit of the girl you used to be, before the war took everything.” She reached out and brushed her thumb against the silver signet ring on Colette’s finger.
“You used to twist that ring constantly when you sat on your father’s lap.
You’d tell anyone who would listen that one day, you’d lead the pack just like him.” Her voice cracked.
“When he died and that responsibility fell on you so young, it broke my heart.
But I was proud of you.
I don’t know what’s changed this week, Colette, but I like it.
Your parents would be proud of you.” A tightness gripped her chest.
A fleeting image of violet eyes, a face she couldn’t quite make out, then everything vanished, leaving her eyes burning.
She hugged Martha before she even had time to think about it.
Martha froze for a second, then wrapped her arms around Colette’s back and held her tight.
“I’m going to take care of this pack,” Colette said against her shoulder.
“Starting with the people in this house.
You can count on that.” Martha gave a short laugh, her voice thick with emotion, and wiped her cheek with the back of her wrist.
“I know, my Alpha.
I know.” “Call me Colette.
Like when I was little.” Martha’s face softened completely, a genuine smile splitting her face.
“Colette.” “I want to organize something,” Colette said, stepping back and adjusting her jacket.
“For the engagement to Alpha Henrik…
but really, I want to get the whole pack in the same room.
I need to see them.” “I’ll find the butler and handle the menu and venue.” Martha was already nodding, ready to act.
“I’ll need to go shopping.” Colette laughed softly.
“As you know, I don’t have too many friends.
Would you be willing to come with me?” Martha nodded with a warm smile.
“It would be my pleasure, Alpha.” Colette gave her a sharp look, and Martha quickly corrected herself.
“It would be my pleasure, Colette.” Colette nodded and turned to leave, but stopped in her tracks.
Turning back, her eyes flicked toward the doorway.
“One more thing, come with me to the archives first.
I need a register, and I still can’t find my way around here.” Together, they walked through the back corridors toward the east wing.
The archives opened into a vast, high-ceilinged space where long rows of oak shelves stretched toward the windows at the far end.
A young clerk sprang up from behind the desk the moment he saw her, bowing so low his nose nearly brushed the wood.
“I’ll leave you here,” Martha whispered before heading back into the hallway.
Colette approached the desk.
In her previous life as Rosella she had never so much as touched the spine of a library book; access to knowledge of any kind had been forbidden to her in IronClaw.
“Show me the restricted section.” The clerk’s hands tightened around a brass paperweight.
“I can’t, Your Majesty.
My orders are strict.” She leaned over the desk.
“Do you know who owns these shelves?” His knees knocked against the desk’s legs, yet he kept his eyes lowered.
“I’m sorry.
Elder Gale himself placed the lock.
No one enters without his seal.” Colette froze.
A pack Elder denying the Alpha access to her own archives.
She didn’t press the issue.
“Very well.” Instead, she moved into the second aisle, letting her fingers graze the cracked leather spines: Territorial Maps.
Original Boundaries.
Pack Genealogies.
If she wanted to discover who had killed the real Colette and why, this was all she had to go by.
Colette’s soul still remained silent; she would have to make do with good old-fashioned investigation.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Henrik’s name appeared on the screen.
She paused near the end of the aisle and answered it.
“Henrik.” “Colette.” A faint static crackled on the line.
“Are you getting settled in?” “I’m fine,” she said quietly, leaning her back against the bookshelf.
“What do you want?” “My lawyer is on his way to your estate with the final agreement.” “Good.
I’ll sign it and send it back after reviewing it.” A silence fell between them.
They both started speaking at once.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“I wanted to check on Laura.” She gave a small laugh.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left, and I wasn’t able to say goodbye.” “I’m relieved, because she hasn’t stopped talking about you either.” The unexpected warmth caught her off guard.
“She’s a great kid.
Tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her.” “She’ll be happy to hear that.” His tone shifted imperceptibly.
“The ceremony is scheduled for next week.
Are your people handling it?” “They’re on it.
Talk soon.” She hung up before he could say anything else and slipped the phone into her pocket.
Turning the corner into the third aisle, the light from the side windows faded into deep shadow.
There, wedged near the back in the narrow space between two massive bookcases, a small form lay curled up on the floor.