Ten Years of Silence, Then I Set the World on Fire

"Mama... Daddy..."

Rosalind kept pointing in the direction the man had gone.

The she-wolf who'd been bringing my meals raised her brows, looking at me as though I were the most ungrateful creature alive.

"The Alpha brought Pup Rosalind here the moment she arrived at the den, all so you'd agree to leave this place. And you threw his kindness back in his face!"

I finally recognized her. She was the Alpha's personal den attendant, Margery Ashveil.

Ten years ago, she'd come to the Valdoran Pack as part of the late Luna Isabelle Ravencrest's bonding retinue. She bore a faint resemblance to the Luna in both her human and wolf form, and Eloise used to cling to her as a small pup, calling her "Mother."

Margery claimed she stayed by the Alpha's side to care for the wolves the late Luna couldn't bear to leave behind. But her real feelings slipped through the cracks often enough. There was something faintly cloying about her presence, like dried lilac left too long in a sealed room, and it carried the same quality as her devotion: sweetness just beginning to turn.

I wasn't jealous. I wasn't even irritated.

I only said, quietly:

"Since you care so much about the Alpha, why don't you go comfort him on behalf of me and your beloved Luna?"

She glared at me, furious.

"I just can't stand the way you act, taking his affection for granted. You know perfectly well that the Alpha cares for you, yet you insist on playing these games!"

She stamped her foot and stormed out.

She called herself a sworn wolf to my face, but there wasn't an ounce of respect behind it. Not a lowered gaze, not a tilted chin. Nothing.

It didn't matter. I'd already stopped caring about Cassius himself. The opinions of the wolves around him mattered even less.

I gathered Rosalind into my arms and held her close, savoring every second of this brief, borrowed time together.

The dark circles under her eyes were impossible to miss. She'd clearly been struggling to sleep for a long while. She smelled of honeyed milk and crushed rose petals and the clean warmth of sunlit wool, but beneath that sweetness there was something thin, something worn, like a pup whose body had been running on fear instead of rest.

My heart ached. I found the softest fabric I had and sewed a small scent-sachet filled with calming herbs for her, tucking a thread of my own scent into the lining so she could carry it against her skin.

I'd just started to rock her to sleep when the rotting doors of the Hollow Den were kicked open with a crash.

The moment Eloise saw Rosalind cradled in my arms, something wild flared in her eyes. Her scent spiked, frost-touched violets sharpening into something electric, and she rushed forward, reaching to tear Rosalind away.

I frowned and raised my hand to block her. Her eyes rimmed red instantly.

"You haven't held me like that in so long. Why are you holding her?"

"I knew it. You only care about your own pup. You never really loved me!"

Like a small, starving animal denied the one thing it craved, Eloise's tears fell in fat, heavy drops.

But I could only furrow my brow in confusion.

"Eloise, have you forgotten what you said to me?"

From the time Eloise was still in swaddling furs, I'd held her in my arms every night and rocked her to sleep.

Then one day, when she was four and old enough to form memories, she suddenly burst into tears and accused me of pinching her.

She said she was afraid I'd pinch her to death in her sleep.

Someone had clearly whispered those words into her ear. But Cassius never investigated. He dismissed it as the fragile outburst of a pup mourning her birth mother.

Worse, he blamed me for failing to raise Eloise well enough, claiming my negligence had made her so insecure.

After that, Eloise was no longer just a pup to me. She was also my Alpha's daughter.

I never dared overstep again. Holding her was out of the question.

Eloise seemed to remember all of this too, but she doubled down regardless.

"Then you still can't hold her!"

Rosalind, startled awake by the noise, didn't cry. She just burrowed deeper into my arms, trembling. Her small fingers curled into my tunic, and I felt her heartbeat hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The sight only enraged Eloise further. She lunged forward and grabbed at us.

I didn't see it coming. She shoved me, and I fell.

Rosalind screamed. I wrapped myself around her, shielding her with everything I had.

My arm struck the stone floor and I heard the crack before I felt it. The color drained from my face.

But Eloise acted as though she'd seized on some unforgivable offense. She ripped the scent-sachet I'd sewn for Rosalind right off her clothes and held it up.

"Why does she get the same sachet as me?!"

I looked into Eloise's eyes, brimming with hatred, and let out a weary sigh.

"The sachet I made for you? You threw it into the fire pit a long time ago."

"Besides, she's my daughter. Is it so wrong for me to make something for her?"

If Eloise cared to remember, she would know that what I'd done for her went far beyond a single scent-sachet.

Sewing her winter pelts through the bitter cold. Making ice for her in the sweltering heat.

I taught her music, strategy, calligraphy, painting, every craft of needle and thread. Every last skill I had, I poured into that child without reservation.

Yet she still glared at me with those hateful eyes. "I knew it. You only ever cared about your own daughter!"

She hurled the scent-sachet to the ground and stamped on it, grinding it into the dirt until it was filthy and ruined. Only then did she whip around and storm off.

That rigid, retreating back was identical to her father's.

Rosalind had gone white with shock, but she still blinked back tears and helped me to my feet.

Then, with careful fingers, she wiped the scent-sachet clean and tucked it against her chest.

"Don't cry, Mama..."

My heart ached so badly I pulled her into my arms. Before I could say a single word, the Alpha's wolves came and took her away.

As they led her off, Rosalind turned and waved, smiling.

"I'll come see you again tomorrow, Mama!"

Tomorrow never came. Wailing tore through the pack den and ripped me from sleep.

My chest seized. I ran out without shoes, without wrappings, without stopping.