Keep Your Emotions In Check, Seraph

POV: Sera

The steward watched me with poorly concealed worry. "It is a relative from your mother's clan. If you are too exhausted—"

The sleepless night of brewing had drained the last of my strength. My head was still buzzing with a low, persistent hum, but his words stopped me mid-step.

My parents had always been content to stay in their Vassal Territory, indulging in every privilege their Alpha status afforded them among their own tribe, willfully blind to my circumstances. As for the rest of my relatives — whether out of tactful respect or condescending pity — they had always kept a careful distance.

The light inside the Great Hall was dim. Dorian Jr. sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, but the moment he heard my footsteps, he rose to his feet.

His features bore a strong resemblance to his brother's, and he carried the same innate elegance that seemed to run in their bloodline. But he was painfully thin, his spine held straight through sheer effort rather than ease. Most telling of all was the near-total absence of the wild energy that a werewolf ought to carry in his bones.

"Esteemed Luna..." He twisted his hands together, his voice barely above a murmur. "I am sorry to disturb your rest. But I — I did not know who else to go to."

He told me that he could not feel his Inner Wolf's bone growth. With adulthood closing in, there was a real chance he would never complete his first Shifting. In a race that measured worth by strength, a werewolf who could not shift would face nothing but humiliation and exile. He had run out of options. I was his last resort.

I looked at him. My eyes were dry and red from a full night spent over a brewing flame. And yet, looking at him, I saw something I recognized without effort.

No one alive understood that feeling better than I did.

"I can help." I heard my own voice come out rough and low.

I went to my private stores, retrieved several herbal extracts formulated to strengthen muscle and bone density, and pressed them into his hands.

Under ordinary circumstances, that would have been the last thing I did before collapsing into bed. But I looked at Dorian Jr.'s narrow shoulders and changed my mind.

"Come with me." I pulled on my outer robe and packed the clan's Healing Salve into a woven basket.

I led him through the mist-covered courtyard and brought him to the Training Ground.

The Training Ground was already alive with the dull thud of bodies in contact and the sharp salt of sweat. Gamma Marcus was overseeing a group of young warriors. When he noticed my arrival, he stopped and walked over, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Luna." He dipped his head in a respectful nod.

I held out the cloth bag I had brought, filled with the Healing Salve I had spent the night preparing. "For the warriors who were injured," I said evenly. "I heard Elena spent the entire night tending to Damien. I assumed there may have been no one left to see to the others. That falls within my duties as Luna."

Marcus knew nothing of last night's scene, and had no way of knowing that this task had begun as a punishment. That was the one advantage the humiliating Gag Order had given me.

He opened the jar and inhaled. The surprise in his eyes was unmistakable, followed quickly by genuine gratitude. The herbs I had cultivated myself bore no comparison to whatever grew untended in the wild — werewolves had no patience for cultivation, and so there was no one else who would have given it a second thought.

"This is far too valuable, Lady Sera." He pressed a fist to his chest in a formal salute. "Your skill and your generosity are a gift to Bloodmoon, Luna. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"

I reached behind me, drew Dorian Jr. forward, and positioned him in front of Marcus.

"The younger son of my mother's elder cousin, Dorian Jr." I held Marcus's gaze, my voice soft but leaving no room for negotiation. "I would like him to remain here under your instruction. Standard training, nothing less. He needs to grow stronger — and this pack needs every capable fighter it can build."

Marcus let his eyes move over Dorian Jr.'s slight frame. Those weathered eyes understood the situation immediately. He gave me a long, measured look.

"It will not be easy, Luna." His tone was matter-of-fact. "There are no shortcuts on my Training Ground. His bones will likely break more than once."

"That is what it means to become a warrior." I held my ground, and let my gaze settle briefly on Dorian Jr., who was trembling slightly but nodding with quiet resolve.

After leaving the Training Ground, I made my way back to Damien's chambers. The morning light had fully broken, but I felt no pull toward sleep. I stood alone before the great Moonstone Tapestry, studying the section the raven had damaged, tracing in my mind how to restore it.

The door hinges turned with a low, solid sound. Damien stepped in.

He looked tired, but his expression was softer than it had been the night before. As he drew closer, the sharp, aggressive edge of his Pine scent softened into something warmer — a deep, resinous warmth that an Alpha releases only when seeking to close a distance, or something more.

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin in the curve of my neck.

"Elena looked into it." His voice was low, deliberately calm. "Last night's Black Magic — it was an accident. The wound on my body reacted with the high-concentration Evening Primrose Extract you had been preparing, and Lydia's handling of the treatment triggered something that mimicked a Black Magic backlash."

He paused. "Lydia didn't mean any harm. She was frightened for me and didn't know what to do."

"Inappropriate treatment," Feral's voice rose inside me, sharp and merciless. "A she-wolf who has never touched a remedy in her life — the only 'treatment' she could think of was to climb into the Alpha's bed and use mating as a distraction from his pain. And he would rather swallow that story whole than spend one single minute thinking it through."

I closed my eyes, felt my body go rigid, and eased myself half a step away from Damien's hold. I had no desire to continue this conversation, and even less desire to lean into the warmth he was offering.

Could he even see the mark on my face?

Damien registered my withdrawal. His gaze followed mine to the damaged Moonstone Tapestry, and the softness in his expression shifted at once. "That raven of yours — you should let it go. It does nothing but cause problems."

Something in my chest seized.

Let it go. In a werewolf's vocabulary, that phrase rarely stopped at abandonment. Ash was one of the few things left that were genuinely mine.

I spun around and planted myself in front of the tapestry, the words out before I could stop them. "I'll mend it. I can have it done tonight — I'll fix it completely, I promise. Please don't hurt Ash. It was only frightened. It won't happen again, I swear it."

I was so focused on protecting Ash that I didn't notice, until it was already too late, what my reaction must have looked like from where he was standing.

The warmth drained from Damien's face.

He had come to reconcile. He had done what he considered the generous thing — called last night an accident, drawn a line under it — and all that remained was for me to accept the gesture and step back into his arms. What he saw instead was a woman who had rebuffed every signal he'd offered, then abandoned all pretense of closeness to plead for a bird.

By the time I understood what I had done, there was nothing left to salvage.

The warm resin in the air curdled — the pine twisting into something sour and astringent, the scent of an Alpha's displeasure given form.

"Do as you like." Damien's mouth pulled into a cold, brief curve. He stepped back and straightened his cuffs with unhurried precision. "The Pack Council has also arranged for two women of strong lineage to take up residence in the Main Building and assist with internal affairs. They are there to ease your burden."

He turned toward the door. With one hand on the handle, he turned his head just enough to deliver the last of it.

"Keep your emotions in check, Phina. Treat them as you would your own sisters."

Sisters.

I stood without moving. It felt like a rusted blade working slowly through the muscle around my heart.

He knew exactly what that word meant in this house.