“And the Woods,” Wen said softly. “My grandparents. They had magic. They could open portals.” She looked as blindsided as Riley. “I had no idea. They never said anything. Never even hinted...”
“They were protecting you,” Malachar said, voice gentle. “The same way Maris was protecting Riley. Some secrets are kept out of love.”
Riley’s hand came up to touch the watch on her wrist. The Mirabelle crest. Her parents’ legacy.
“They were killed,” she said. “Murdered. Because they’d found out things that someone wanted to bury. Truths related to the crown.”
My mind was racing. The crown. Which crown? Duskmere’s? Another kingdom’s? What could the Mirabelles have discovered that was worth killing an entire noble family over?
“We need more information,” I said. “Thessa is searching the archives in Duskmere. If there are records about what happened to House Mirabelle...”
“There might be more here,” Wen interrupted. She was flipping through more of the journal, scanning pages. “My grandmother kept everything. If there was correspondence, follow-up entries, anything about what the Mirabelles discovered...”
“Keep looking,” I said.
But Riley wasn’t moving. Her gaze was still fixed on the journal entry, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.
I crossed to her side and hesitated. For two days, she’d refused my comfort, refused my touch, kept me at arm’s length. I reached for her anyway. My hand settled on her shoulder, gentle, tentative, ready to pull back if she flinched.
She didn’t flinch.
Instead, she turned into me, pressed her face against my chest, and for the first time in two days, she let me hold her.
“I have answers,” she whispered against my shirt. “But I have so many more questions.”
“We’ll find them,” I promised. “All of them. Together.”
She held onto me and I held onto her. The road ahead was uncertain, but at least we were facing it as one.
“Wait,” Wen said suddenly. “There’s more. Look at this.”
She held up another piece of paper, a letter this time, not a journal entry.
“It’s addressed to my grandmother. From... someone in Lytopia. Dated a month after the journal entry.” Wen’s voice trembled. “And it mentions the crown. Specifically, it mentions a prophecy.”
Everyone went still.
Malachar frowned. “A prophecy? That’s unusual. Prophecies are rare, and they’re a witch’s domain, not ours. Wolves don’t have foresight. Only witches do.”
“Which makes sense,” Wen said slowly. “The letter is from a witch. The same one who contacted my grandparents about the Mirabelles.”
“What does it say?” Riley asked, pulling back from my chest but staying close. I kept my arm around her. She didn’t pull away.
Wen scanned the letter quickly, her face growing paler with each line.
“I don’t... I can’t...” Her eyes met ours, wide with disbelief. “Apparently there’s a prophecy about a white wolf. Born of noble blood, hidden in the human world, destined to...” She trailed off.
“Destined to what?” I demanded.
Wen swallowed hard.
“Destined to end a war. Or start one.”
The words hung in the air. Riley stiffened against me, her shock and fear and absolute disbelief flooding our connection.
A white wolf, noble blood, hidden in the human world. Riley. The prophecy was clearly about Riley.
My mate wasn’t just a lost noble with dormant wolf blood. She was the subject of an ancient prophecy that spoke of war.
