Chapter 37
By midmorning, whispers follow me everywhere I go. It appears that word of my promotion has spread quickly and attention follows me wherever I go.
Everywhere I walk, I feel it. Not the sideways glances or half-muttered commentary I used to get as the only woman on the training field, this is different.
Eyes linger just a moment longer and some watch with something like respect, but other stares are more calculating. Nara senses it too. They’re watching us, she growls, half proud, half wary.
I keep my chin up as I walk across the grounds toward the assignment board. My boots crunch in the gravel, echoing louder than they should.
I scan the patrol roster. My name’s listed beside two junior guards I’ve worked with before. Standard. Then a voice cuts through the air. “McMann.”
The Captain’s tone is clipped, his expression unreadable as he gestures for me to follow. I fall in beside him, matching his pace as we reenter the palace and head down a side corridor near the storage rooms.
“I wanted a word about the timing of your promotion.” His voice remains even, professional, but the look in his eye betrays his disapproval.
“I understand.” I keep my hands at my sides, posture perfect.
He looks at me, sizing me up like I am about to become his prey. “You’ve made yourself visible. That means any mistake you make doesn’t just fall on you, it falls on the rest of us. The Guard’s reputation is not freely given away, it is earned.
His meaning is clear. Some of the others may be nodding, but not all of them are celebrating.
I nod once. “I’m aware. I intend to prove myself every day I wear this uniform.”
He studies me for a beat too long. Then, “See that you do.” He walks off without another word.
Nara’s voice in my head is low and angry. “He doesn’t respect you.”
I take a breath and swallow my pride. I can’t afford to lose control.
He doesn’t have to respect me, I reply inwardly. He just has to see results.
Still, my pulse is faster than it should be as I return to my post. My shoulders feel heavy, but I refuse to show it.
When I’m summoned for an afternoon strategy meeting, I wonder if it’s a mistake. I double-check the message twice, then smooth my uniform and make my way to the briefing room on the third floor.
Inside, the air hums with power at the assortment of powerful wolves in the room. Senior guards line the long table, speaking in low tones. I linger by the doorway for a beat before stepping inside.
Kaine is already seated near the head of the table, eyes scanning the documents before him. He doesn’t greet me when I enter, but his gaze lifts, lingering for just a moment before dropping back to his notes.
I take a seat near the middle, folding my hands in front of me. My heart is in my throat. I focus on my breath.
The meeting begins. A lieutenant outlines a recent breach in one of the trade routes, nothing massive, but enough to merit closer attention. Opinions are thrown out, weighed, measured.
Then someone turns to me.
“McMann. You’ve shown yourself to have an eye for patrol routes. Thoughts?”
I sit up straighter. “There’s a blind spot in the northern watch rotation,” I say. “Two of the checkpoints were merged last month due to a staffing shortage. It’s created a gap that could explain the incident.”
Someone grunts in agreement. Another guard scribbles a note.
Kaine doesn’t speak, but I feel his attention shift to me. He leans back slightly, face unreadable.
I go on. “I recommend a temporary post be added during evening hours until the full rotation can be reinstated. We’ll need volunteers. I can compile a list of likely candidates.”
More nods. No one contradicts me.
I glance Kaine’s way once more. His eyes meet mine. He doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t look away either.
The meeting concludes half an hour later. As I rise, one of the senior guards, an older man with salt and pepper hair and a scar across his knuckles, approaches me quietly.
“You did well,” he says, voice low. “Keep showing that spine. Let them talk.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He offers a short nod and walks off, leaving me standing alone near the door. I feel the warmth of the compliment for half a second before something colder seeps in underneath. Let them talk.
Even his praise is a warning.
The news reaches Bianca during a midday walk through the palace. A passing noble, too eager to impress, mentions it offhand. He smiles as he says Ember’s name.
She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t frown. She thanks him for the information and keeps walking, her dress swaying lightly behind her.
It is official, Ember has earned a place at the palace. Bianca had known her sister was dangerous from the moment saw the royal mark on Ember’s shoulder, but now she was making a name for herself.
Ember isn’t just surviving. She’s starting to gain respect. She is no longer disposable.
That can’t be allowed.
Bianca pauses by a window, trying to keep her face smooth as she watches a pair of men cross the courtyard. One of them is Jasper.
Of course.
He’s played his part, more or less. His interest in Ember is no longer subtle. He finds reasons to speak to her, to linger when she passes.
He’s baiting her, but she’s not biting. That’s the problem.
Bianca exhales slowly, lips pursed.
Ember stays polite, detached. She doesn’t flirt, doesn’t lean in. She’s building a shield out of professionalism, and so far, it’s holding.
If she keeps resisting, the story won’t stick, Bianca thinks. Jasper and Ember need to look believable. Otherwise, what is she even spinning.
The plan had been designed with precision. If the mark ever came to light, Ember’s involvement with Jasper would be enough for Bianca to say, “They’ve been together all along.” The only problem is that Ember, infuriatingly, won’t fall.
Not yet, Bianca tells herself. She taps her nails once against the windowsill before moving on. She smooths the lines of her dress with careful grace, every movement choreographed.
She is Kaine’s fiancée. She is the future Luna, and she always gets what she wants.
