Morning came without comfort.
Silver Moon Palace woke beneath polite routines, but beneath the order lay agitation too carefully controlled to be ignored. Servants moved faster than usual. Concubines gathered in clusters that broke apart the moment a guard passed. Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.
Lyria stood in the kitchens, sleeves rolled to her elbows, kneading dough with steady hands. Selene hovered nearby, pretending to sort herbs while watching her friend far too closely.
"You've been quiet," Selene said at last.
Lyria did not look up. "I'm working."
"That wasn't my question."
Lyria pressed her palms into the dough harder than necessary. "There is nothing to say."
Selene tilted her head. "Nothing about the Alpha's new wife?"
The movement stilled Lyria's hands.
Across the room, another maid—Nysa—shot Selene a sharp look. "Enough," she said quietly. "You'll get her in trouble."
Selene lifted her chin. "I'm just asking how she feels."
"That's exactly the problem," Nysa replied. "Feelings don't belong to servants."
Lyria finally looked up, forcing a small, controlled smile. "I feel the same as I did yesterday. And the day before that."
Selene studied her, unconvinced. "You're lying."
Nysa stepped between them. "Drop it."
Selene huffed but backed away, though her eyes lingered on Lyria with a mix of concern and curiosity. She would report something later—Lyria knew that much. Selene always talked. Not maliciously. Just too openly.
Elsewhere in the palace, talk was far less innocent.
Serina reclined against embroidered cushions, one leg folded beneath her silk robe, expression tight with annoyance. Her maid knelt before her, head bowed.
"She's confident," the maid reported. "The new wife moves as though she already rules."
Serina scoffed. "Let her enjoy it. Confidence makes people careless."
"And the Alpha?"
Serina's fingers drummed against the armrest. "He hasn't touched her. That much I know."
Her lips curved slowly. "And that is everything."
Kael Draven crossed the training grounds with controlled aggression, blade flashing in the morning light. Each strike landed with precision, power restrained only by discipline. His guards circled at a distance, giving him space.
Riven watched carefully.
"You're fighting like you're angry at something you can't reach," the Beta said once Kael finally lowered his weapon.
Kael wiped sweat from his brow. "The palace feels like a cage."
"And yet," Riven replied, "you remain."
Kael's gaze drifted instinctively toward the servants' wing before he caught himself. His wolf stirred, alert.
"I sense things," Kael admitted. "Movements. Intentions. But not the one thing I should."
Riven followed his line of sight. "The maid."
Kael said nothing.
"That awareness you feel," Riven continued, carefully, "you don't need to name it yet."
Kael's jaw tightened. "That's the problem."
Later that evening, fate intervened without ceremony.
Lyria turned a corner carrying folded linens—and collided solidly with a broad chest.
The fabric slipped from her arms.
Strong hands caught her before she could stumble back.
Kael froze.
So did she.
For a moment, neither moved. His grip was firm but respectful, fingers warm against her forearms. Her scent—clean, familiar, unsettling—filled his senses.
"I—" Lyria began, then stopped.
Kael's eyes searched her face, closer now than ever before. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, Alpha."
He did not release her immediately.
Something passed between them—recognition, tension, restraint pulled taut.
"You apologize too often," he said.
She swallowed. "Habit."
His hands slowly fell away.
Yet neither stepped back.
"You should be careful in these halls," Kael added. "They're not kind to accidents."
"Neither are they kind to intentions," she replied before thinking.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "You speak boldly for someone who claims to know her place."
"Perhaps," she said softly, "knowing it too well makes one brave."
Their eyes held.
Then footsteps echoed nearby.
Kael straightened, distance restored, the Alpha once more. "Go."
Lyria inclined her head and left, heart racing, unaware that behind her—
Kael remained still.
His wolf pressed forward, alert, focused.
Not claiming.
Not yet.
And elsewhere in the palace, eyes watched carefully, minds calculated faster, and plans began to stretch toward a future no one was prepared to face.