“Maybe you deserve it,” I say, shocking myself because of the harshness in my voice. “But I don’t think you have to worry about it too much. Only if the mates are entirely in love, there’s a chance of your wolf dying in heartbreak.”
“Emris loves Nyx,” he claims.
“Nyx loved him, too. But your actions have ended that love. She supports my decision.”
He flinches, then sinks to his knees in front of me. “Please.”
I almost—almostfeel pity for him. Life without a wolf is a curse. But I can’t bring myself to be kind enough to pray he doesn’t lose Emris.
He speaks again. “I was afraid. Of losing control, of losing power. When my father died, I thought I had to be stronger than him. When Izel told me what she could do, I saw it as the opportunity to strengthen our pack.”
“By deceit?” I snap. “How do you call yourself an Alpha? You’re acoward. You’re worse than your father. I hate you. Finnand Ivy will hate you when they grow up and find out what kind of man their father truly was.”
That hits a spot. He stumbles, putting his head in his hands before inhaling sharply. He swallows hard. “I am. You’re right… I am a coward.” Turning back, he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Do what you must, Freya. But before you go, I want you to hear this.”
He walks back to me and kneels, pressing his palm to his chest and bowing his head low. “I, Kade Thorne of Silvercrest, swear an Oath of Obedience to my Luna, Freya Vale-Thorne. I will obey whatever her will commands, whether it frees me or ends me. This is my truth. This is my penance.”
The fire flickers. My heart should crack at the sight of him kneeling there, but it doesn’t. It only aches with something old and hollow.
“Get up,” I say.
He doesn’t move.
“Get up, Kade.”
He rises slowly. His eyes shine with a grief that feels almost human. “I wish I could undo it all.”
“You can’t,” I tell him. “You can only stop pretending you still deserve to hold what you broke.”
He nods once, turns, and walks out. No guard escorts him. No word follows. Just the sound of the rain swallowing his steps.
When the silence settles again, Rowan pushes the door open. He studies my face, then the fire. “You didn’t kill him,” he says quietly.
“No,” I murmur. “Not today.”
He walks forward, unsheathing the blade at his back. The Moonshard sword gleams faintly in the firelight.
“It belongs to you,” he says, laying it flat on his hands.
I stare at the weapon. “That’s your sword.”
“It was never mine,” he says. “It was forged for the High Luna of Nightfell—but one was never born there.”
The metal glows faintly, pale as frost.
Rowan sets it in my hands, and its weight surprises me. It weighs… right. There’s a sense of belonging I feel.
“You’ll need it at the Conclave,” he says.
I look down at the sword, then at him. “You think they’ll let me—a High Luna—walk away alive?”
He smiles faintly. “I think they’ll try to stop you. And I know they’ll fail.”
The storm outside grows louder. I turn the sword in my palms, watching the firelight run across the edge like liquid silver.
Tomorrow, we leave Silvercrest. And then I let them all see who I truly am.
THE BLOOD MOON CONCLAVE
