The crystal glows faintly in my hand. I set it on the table between us, willing it to work, willing his tongue to loosen. But Maelin only chuckles, like a grandfather humoring a child. “Moon-amber? Clever. But wasted on me.”
Sweat beads on my forehead. “What do you mean?”
He leans back, folding his hands over his quill. “My task is to preserve truth, not to twist it. Glamours have no hold on me. Nor do threats. If you wanted honesty, all you ever needed to do was ask.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I—I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.” I glance over my shoulder at the empty hall. “I—I shouldn’t be here.”
“That is the trouble with most truth-seekers,” he says with a faint smile. “They imagine knowledge itself is forbidden. Records are kept for all, my lady. You only have to ask,” he repeats.
I step further in, though doubt prickles my skin. “If I ask you about Severance… will you tell anyone?”
His eyes soften, the sharpness giving way to something almost kind. “Skepticism is wise. But so is knowing where you may rest your doubts. This chamber is not a court, nor a council. Unless commanded by the Alpha or Council directly, I am bound to silence about who enters here and what questions they bring. My duty is to knowledge, not politics.”
The moon-amber dims in my hand, useless. Maelin is not an enemy.
The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding slips out. “Then I need those answers. All of them.”
He studies me for a long moment. “Very well. What do you know about it?”
I fumble, “Only that it is a ritual divorce. It will sever my marriage knot, and Kade will have no control over me.”
He sighs, moving the parchment he was working on to the side. “That is correct, yes. Not all Lunas who attempt it are successful, but it is a powerful ritual for anyone who wishes to retain their individual authority over the pack and their strength after the separation,” he explains. “The Alpha’s command will have no power over you. You shall be free to choose your own path. You may even take half the pack with you and your children away.”
I swallow, heart already racing at the thought.
Freedom.
I only need to claim it.
“How do I do it?” I ask him.
He nods slowly, a thoughtful look crossing over his pale eyes. “Silver Severance requires three proofs. First—the rightful sigil. The Luna’s diadem. Without it, no Conclave will even hear you. The crown is not a mere ornament; it is the Moon’s mark of blessing, and without it, you are only a wife seeking grievance, not a Luna seeking freedom.”
My heart twists, remembering the crown locked away behind Kade’s iron safe.
“Second,” Maelin continues, “a witness circle. At least nine of your pack must stand for you. They cannot be servants bought with coin, nor voices bent by glamour. They must speak freely under the Moon’s eye, for blood memory cannot lie.”
I inhale slowly. “And the third?”
His pale eyes glint. “Your wolf. You must stand at Conclave with her awake and entirely unmuzzled. She must be at her full strength and prepared for judgement. The Moon Goddess herself will watch. If she falters, ifyoufalter, the bond is judged broken, and the Severance fails. And failure…” His voice dips lower. “…failure strips you not only of your marriage bond, butof every protection the title grants. You would be nothing before them. You could be punished, banished, or declared rogue. You could lose your wolf forever.”
I press a hand against my ribs, where Nyx prowls faintly.
“That is everything.” His voice is gentler now. “But it is enough to bring down houses—or save them.”
I lift my gaze, searching his lined face for any hint of judgment. “You don’t think I’m foolish for even asking?”
He shakes his head once. “I think you are wise for wanting the truth before stepping onto a battlefield. And make no mistake, Luna Freya… Severance is war.”
SWEET POISON
Izel
Far across the keep, inside her chamber, Izel stands before her mirror, brushing out her long, wine-coloured hair. The Head Housekeeper, Vanya, bows low behind her, whispering, “It is true, my lady. She no longer drinks tea or ale at the table. She only pretends. The healer has her on something else. She has also been seen training with soldier Tamsin.”
Izel’s brush halts. Her reflection smirks back at her, sweet as poison. “So… she thinks she can crawl out of her grave.” She sets the brush down with intended calm. “Then we accelerate.”
Vanya hesitates for once, her conscience breaking through the glamour. Izel doesn’t feel endangered. She doesn’t have to keep her power flowing all the time. Not to maintain her control on this woman, at least. “Accelerate what?”
