Chapter 7
761 Words
By evening, the stronghold sounded like celebration and felt like a bruise.
Laughter spilled from the great hall in bright, careless waves. Somewhere inside, music played and glasses clinked. Aria stayed in the shadows of the outer yard, coat pulled tight, watching her breath fog the air.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was any other winter night. But every shout, every cheer, scraped against the raw place in her chest where the bond still pulled toward him.
Footsteps crunched over frost behind her.
“I thought I told you to stay away from the main hall,” Richard said.
“I am away,” Aria replied without turning. “That’s the opposite direction.”
He came to stand beside her at the low stone wall, hands in his pockets. For a while they just looked at the dark line of trees.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said at last.
“Losing half your soul makes you chatty?” she asked. It came out more tired than sharp.
He exhaled through his nose. “It’s not half your soul. It’s a bond. Strong. Painful. But not all you are unless you let it be.”
“Feels like more than a bond,” she muttered.
“I know.” He was silent a beat, then added, “I sent a message to Nightfall.”
Her head snapped toward him. “You what?”
“Rowan owes me favors,” he said. “I asked if he’d take a ‘guest’ for a while. Someone who needs distance and quiet. He said yes.”
The word yes landed in her stomach like a stone.
“You didn’t ask me,” she said.
“I asked if he could,” Richard countered. “Whether you will is still yours.” His gaze sharpened. “Do you really want to stay here and breathe in their scent every time you walk down a corridor? Watch them rehearse a future that was almost yours?”
Almost.
Her wolf flinched.
Aria’s fingers dug into the rough stone. From the open hall doors, a burst of cheers: Aiden’s name, Olivia’s name, thrown into the air like confetti.
She swallowed. “What exactly did you tell Rowan?”
“That you’re a good wolf in a bad position,” her father said. “That you need space to remember you’re more than a pack’s gossip. That if he doesn’t want his reputation ruined, he’d better treat you well or I’ll come collect in person.”
Despite herself, a short, breathless laugh escaped her. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “He agreed faster than I expected. Seems Nightfall’s not fond of the Council’s games either.”
Silence stretched between them again, filled with distant music and her own heartbeat.
“If I go,” she said slowly, “it’ll look like I’m running.”
“To who?” Richard asked. “To the wolves who already decided what your life should be? Let them think what they like. You’re not running from him, Aria. You’re walking toward something that isn’t built on his choices.”
Toward pines instead of stone. Unknown faces instead of familiar pity. Air that didn’t taste like his laughter.
Her chest ached just imagining putting more distance between them. The bond tugged weakly in protest, like a frayed rope.
“As soon as you cross the border, it will hurt less,” her father said quietly, as if hearing the argument inside her. “Not gone. But less. You deserve at least that.”
When had he last hugged her like a child? She couldn’t remember. Now he rested a heavy, careful hand on the back of her neck, wolf‑simple comfort.
“When?” she asked.
“There’s a truck leaving for the northern border at dawn,” he said. “Supplies for Nightfall. They’ll take one extra passenger.”
She watched her breath drift away in thin clouds.
Leaving meant accepting that what she’d dreamed in green fabric and borrowed courage was dead. Staying meant letting that death replay every time she saw him.
“Pack a bag,” Aria said, the words tasting like blood and snow. “If I have to start being ‘more than this’ somewhere, I’d rather not do it under their banner.”
Richard’s fingers squeezed once. “Good girl.”
Behind them, the keep roared Aiden’s name again.
Aria turned her back to the sound and walked inside to pack.
- Writer
