Chapter 45
Breakfast featured an elaborate spread of Swift River specialties—smoked river fish, forest berries preserved in honey, and freshly baked bread adorned with their pack's symbolic crest. Under normal circumstances, I would have appreciated their hospitality. Today, my focus remained on the servant hovering near Alpha Marcus's place setting.
The young wolf moved with practiced efficiency, but I noticed how he lingered near Marcus's goblet, his attention fixed on this one task. As he poured the morning tea, his sleeve brushed suspiciously against the rim.
I watched Marcus raise the cup to his lips, then acted with deliberate clumsiness. Rising suddenly, I "accidentally" bumped the ceremonial table, sending his drink splashing across the tablecloth.
"How terribly clumsy of me," I gasped with convincing dismay. "Please forgive the disruption."
Luna Elena caught my eye, offering a subtle nod of understanding as servants rushed to clean the mess. I positioned myself near the refreshment table when a new cup was prepared, ensuring no opportunities for tampering. The servant I'd been watching looked briefly frustrated before resuming his neutral expression.
During negotiations, Marcus appeared remarkably more alert and engaged than the previous day. His hands remained steady as he indicated boundary markers on the ceremonial map, his voice carrying authority that had been lacking.
"The Moonlight Falls have marked our shared boundary since the First Alliance," he explained. "Our packs have honored this division through seventeen generations of leadership."
Raymond grew visibly frustrated as his father and Alpha Dominic aligned on traditional border policies, systematically dismantling the territorial concessions Giana had engineered.
"These historical boundaries ignore modern needs," Raymond argued, though with less conviction than before. "Our pack has evolved beyond ancient limitations."
"Evolution builds upon foundation, not destroys it," Elder Walsh replied with quiet dignity. "Remove the roots, and the tree dies, no matter how beautiful its branches."
"Perhaps," Giana interjected with calculated sweetness, "we could consider a mutual stewardship arrangement for the eastern quadrant? Blood Moon would maintain ceremonial rights while allowing Swift River hunting privileges."
The suggestion sounded reasonable but would effectively cede valuable territory while maintaining only symbolic control. I recognized the trap immediately.
"An interesting proposal," I said carefully, "though perhaps we might modify it to preserve the ancient ritual sites while establishing clearer guidelines for seasonal hunting rotations. This would honor Swift River's historical claims while maintaining our pack's defensive integrity along the ridge line."
My suggestions appeared modest but would actually maintain our territorial control of key strategic positions. The Swift River council members nodded approvingly, recognizing how it preserved both packs' interests while sounding supportive of Giana's initial idea.
At lunch, I noticed the same suspicious servant hovering near the drinks again. Through careful maneuvering, I "accidentally" switched Marcus's cup with another, ensuring he received an untainted beverage.
Giana's eyes narrowed. "Some people simply must always be the center of attention," she murmured, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Always creating little... incidents."
"Better small incidents than great regrets," Luna Elena replied smoothly, her pointed gaze making Giana shift uncomfortably.
After the meal, I followed the servant to a storage room where he met briefly with one of Giana's loyal followers. Their conversation was hushed, but I clearly saw a small vial being passed between them.
"Fresh linens for the guest quarters," the servant explained hastily when he noticed me watching. "Nothing more."
"Of course," I replied pleasantly. "Though I wonder why linens would require such secrecy?"
The young wolf paled visibly. "I don't understand, Luna."
"No matter," I said with deliberate lightness. "I'm sure Alpha Marcus will be interested in examining the contents of that vial when I report this conversation."
The servant looked stricken. "It's nothing harmful," the other wolf insisted quickly. "Merely a tonic for Delta Giana's... delicate condition."
"How thoughtful of you to personally deliver her medicine," I replied, my tone making it clear I didn't believe a word. "I'll be sure to mention your dedication to her welfare."
I hurried to find Luna Elena in her private chamber to report what I'd discovered.
"I believe I've identified how the poison is being administered," I explained quietly. "There's a servant working with one of Giana's allies—they passed a vial between them. When confronted, they claimed it was medicine for Giana."
She nodded, unsurprised. "I suspected as much. I've been watching the patterns—who handles food, who has access to his chambers."
"We should implement a food-testing system immediately," Elena suggested. "The old protocol where a trusted wolf samples each dish before serving."
"I can suggest it at dinner," I offered. "Frame it as a traditional precaution during diplomatic visits."
I shared Kane's intelligence about the rogue encampments surrounding Swift River territory.
"This confirms my suspicions," Elena said gravely. "Whatever Giana is planning extends far beyond merely replacing you in Raymond's affections."
"But what could she possibly gain from weakening our pack's position?" I wondered.
Elena's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Power, perhaps. Or revenge." She studied me carefully. "Your connection with Kane has evolved beyond your initial arrangement, hasn't it?"
The unexpected question caught me off guard. "I... we..."
Elena's expression softened. "I've lived too long not to recognize when the heart chooses differently than circumstance dictates. Whatever happens, trust that instinct."
That evening, Raymond confronted me in the corridor outside my chamber.
"What game are you playing?" he demanded. "First undermining Giana's suggestions, then creating scenes at meals."
"I'm not playing games, Raymond," I replied evenly. "I'm protecting your father."
"From what, exactly?" he scoffed.
"From Giana," I said bluntly. "She's poisoning him. The symptoms began when she started joining family meals. His condition improves when he doesn't consume what she has access to."
Raymond's expression shifted from anger to shock to disbelief. "That's insane. You're actually accusing my mate of poisoning my father? Without evidence?"
"The correlation is the evidence," I insisted. "Watch him tomorrow. See how much stronger he appears when his food and drink are secured."
"Your vials of poison found conveniently when no one else is present? Your 'accidental' disruptions that somehow always involve my father's meals?" Raymond's voice rose as his anger rekindled. "This is a new low, even for you."
"Why would I possibly want to harm your father?" I demanded. "He's always supported me, treated me like a daughter. This isn't about me—it's about protecting him from someone who's systematically undermining our pack."
"Your jealousy has driven you to madness," Raymond said coldly. "Making wild accusations against my mate based on nothing but coincidence and your own bitterness."
"Then explain his symptoms," I challenged. "Explain why a powerful Alpha suddenly develops tremors that miraculously improve when his food isn't tampered with."
Something flickered in Raymond's eyes—doubt, perhaps, or unwilling recognition. "My father is aging," he said, with less conviction. "The transition of power is... difficult for him."
"Is that what Giana told you?" I asked quietly. "That his weakness comes from inability to relinquish control rather than something more sinister?"
Raymond turned away abruptly. "This conversation is over. Stay away from Giana. I won't warn you again."
But as he walked away, I noticed his steps lacked their usual confident stride. The first seed of doubt had been planted—small, perhaps, but growing.
I returned to my chamber, mind racing with the day's developments. A soft tap at my window startled me. I approached cautiously, finding a small arrow embedded in the wooden frame, a message wrapped tightly around its shaft.
Rogues moving closer. Twelve spotted at northern perimeter. Be ready.
Kane's warning was clear. Whatever Giana had planned was advancing faster than we'd anticipated. I burned the message, watching the paper curl until nothing remained but ash.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges—possibly the confrontation we'd been dreading. As I prepared for bed, I found myself touching the spot on my forehead where Kane's lips had pressed so gently. The memory brought surprising comfort as I faced the uncertain hours ahead.
