By mid‑morning, the whole manor had a new favorite story.
“The Luna calmed the Alpha.”
“She put her hands on his face when the curse took him, and he stopped.”
“They said she stood there with blood on her arm and still told Victor Hale off in front of everyone.”
I heard it in fragments—servants gossiping too loud in side corridors, warriors at the pump murmuring between sips, even an elder’s apprentice whispering breathlessly to another: *“She’s not just some decorative human. Did you see the light?”*
If I let it, the talk would have gone to my head.
If I let it, the fear would have too.
Some looked at me with awe.
Some with suspicion, eyes narrowed as if they were counting how many witches they’d have to burn to get rid of me.
A few looked at me with something vicious and sharp,
