Chapter 117

Amelia

The supply dock was always noisy, crates being hauled in, guards arguing over manifests, the clang of metal echoing off the stone walls. But when Jenny’s voice rang out, sharp and cutting, the noise seemed to shrink around it.

“There she is,” Jenny said, her tone dripping with venom. “The wolfless parasite herself. Crawling into my father’s bed to keep herself relevant.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. Every sound in the dock faltered. Staff froze with boxes in their arms. Soldiers turned their heads. Whispers rippled almost instantly. I felt the weight of a hundred eyes pressing on me.

My throat tightened. “Jenny, not here.”

“Why not here?” she demanded, stepping closer. Her voice grew louder, deliberately pitched to carry. “You’ve been shameless enough everywhere else. Do you think anyone here doesn’t know what you’re doing? You think they don’t see you playing the orphan card so you can slither your way into his bed?”

A murmur rolled through the crowd of dock workers. One soldier shifted uncomfortably, another muttered something under his breath. The workers glanced between us, tension building like static. I forced my breathing even, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to scream back. I wanted to claw at her. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it might split me apart.

“Say something,” Jenny pressed, her lip curling. “Or is silence the only thing you’re good at?”

“Enough, Jenny.” I hissed, my voice shaking with fury. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about.” She turned to the crowd, her voice rising. “She’s nothing but a distraction. Wolfless, worthless, and somehow, she thinks she belongs in the King’s bed.”

Whispers turned into sharp breaths, the crowd splitting between shock and fascination. I felt my skin prickle, heat crawling down my spine.

For a heartbeat, my senses shifted. The air thinned. The dock seemed to fall silent, too silent, as though the world itself recoiled. The whispers cut off, leaving only my pulse. My vision sharpened, colors brightening in unnatural clarity. I felt something radiating from me, leaking out, pressing against the walls. People shifted back instinctively, eyes wide. Jenny’s sneer faltered, just for a second, before she regained herself.

And then it was gone. The dock roared back to life. My knees trembled with the shame of it. Whatever had just happened wasn’t normal. It was me, but not me.

“Pathetic,” Jenny spat, though her voice had lost a little of its edge. “Enjoy your scraps.”

I steadied myself, my nails digging into my palms. “You’ve already chosen Adam again. You’ve already chosen David. That makes you a traitor, Jenny, whether the world damns you for it or not.”

Her smile sharpened, cold and triumphant. “Traitor? I don’t know if you noticed, but both camps are here trying to protect themselves. Maybe I’m not as big of a traitor as you think.” She leaned in, her voice cutting like glass. “We’re not as different as you like to believe… except I’m not sleeping with your father. Oh, right. You don’t have one.”

I turned on my heel and left before I did something unforgivable. The whispers followed me out, hot and cutting, clinging to my skin like smoke.

Richard

I had watched the whole thing. Hidden at the edge of the crowd, my hands curled into fists. My wolf howled for me to step forward, to silence Jenny, but I forced myself still. Defending Amelia in that moment would have turned her tantrum into a full war. Jenny would have lashed out harder, the crowd would have seen weakness, not strength. So I stayed silent, though it cut me deeper than any blade.

And then I felt it. For a flicker of a second, the air shifted. Power rolled through the dock, subtle but unmistakable. Not wolf, not anything I could name, but it silenced the room all the same. My gaze snapped to Amelia, and fear clawed at me. Something inside her was stirring, something I couldn’t control. Something she didn’t even seem to understand.

Later, when we were alone, she rounded on me. Her eyes were blazing, her arms locked tight across her chest. “You just stood there. You let her humiliate me.”

I braced myself. “If I had stepped in, it would have escalated. You know that.”

Her laugh was bitter. “So you chose her over me?”

“No.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I chose survival. For both of us. If I defend you against her in front of an audience, she wins. She thrives on spectacle. You saw how she baited you. You felt it.”

Her eyes wavered, but her jaw stayed tight. “It still felt like abandonment.”

I exhaled. “And it felt like tearing myself in half. I will not defend her cruelty. But I also will not hand her another weapon to use against us.”

We circled each other like combatants, words sharper than blades. The silence that followed was raw, stretched thin between us. Finally, she looked away, blinking hard. “I know you’re right. I just… it hurt.”

I touched her arm, careful. “It hurt me too.”

Her breath shuddered, and she leaned into me, just slightly. Enough to tell me she understood. Enough to remind me why I endured the storm in silence. We were both trapped in an impossible balance. And yet, standing there together, I swore I would find a way to tip it back in our favor.

Amelia

The next day the tension still lingered between us, but it softened in quiet ways. After council meetings, Richard suggested a walk through the Haven’s outer gardens, what little had been salvaged before the last war. The gravel crunched under our boots, lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. For once, no one followed, no cameras, no guards pretending not to listen.

“I hate that she can reach you like that,” Richard admitted finally, his hands clasped behind his back. “Jenny knows exactly where to strike, and I make it worse by holding still.”

I brushed my fingers along the hedge, letting the cool leaves ground me. “You’re not the only one she strikes. But you’re the one who can’t flinch, or the whole kingdom thinks it means something. I don’t envy you for that.”

He stopped, turning toward me. His face looked older in the lamplight, the hard lines around his eyes deepening. “You deserved better than my silence.”

“And you deserved better than her cruelty,” I replied. “Maybe we’re both just learning to live with less than we deserve.”

His eyes softened. He reached out, finally taking my hand. The warmth of it settled something inside me. For all the battles and betrayals, we still found each other in the quiet, where no one else could interfere. For the first time since the dock, I felt steady again, anchored by him, even if the storm was still raging outside.

We walked slowly, speaking in fragments, not about politics or Jenny or the war but about smaller things, what food we missed most from before the fighting, the little quirks of the Haven’s staff that made us laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. And as the lanterns flickered against the dark, I realized that even in the worst storms, we could still carve out moments like this, moments that felt almost like peace.