CHAPTER FIFTEEN
861 Words
By the third day after Lucien’s arrest, the pack felt… different.
It wasn’t something an outsider could put a finger on. The houses were still standing, the sentries still walked their patrols, and the fires still burned in the great hearth of the hall. But Kael could feel it.
He could feel it in the way conversations shifted when he walked by. In the way, laughter cut short when his shadow passed a doorway. In the stiffness of nods from wolves who once greeted him with warmth and ease.
The change wasn’t loud or obvious. That made it worse. This wasn’t rebellion that could be confronted head‑on. This was quiet, patient erosion.
Ronan fell into step beside him as they crossed the training yard, the crisp bite of winter air curling from their breaths. “They’re talking,” he muttered, keeping his voice low. “Some say you locked him up without proof. Some say…” He hesitated, glancing at Kael’s profile. “…some say you were afraid of him.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “And Selene?”
Ronan hesitated again — and that alone told Kael more than words. “She’s… quiet. Careful. That’s not a good sign.”
That evening, the dining hall felt different, too.
The smell of venison stew and baked bread lingered as it always did, but the usual hum of chatter was dampened. Conversations stayed close to the chest. Wolves hunched over their meals, shoulders tense.
Kael scanned the room. At a table near the far wall, three hunters sat with their heads bent together. He didn’t mean to overhear, but his wolf‑sharp hearing made privacy a fragile thing.
“…said Kael set him up,” one murmured.
“…that the crates weren’t even weapons,” another replied.
“…trying to push him out before he gets too much support,” the third concluded.
Kael’s hands flexed at his sides. Lucien’s poison was working — not through shouts or accusations, but through whispers, weaving itself into the fabric of daily life until no one could remember who had started them.
He made his way to the high table without speaking, but he could feel eyes on his back the whole way.
Later that night, Kael stepped into the courtyard and saw Selene standing by the old stone well, speaking with Aira — one of the older she‑wolves who had known Selene since she had first come to Blackthorn
They stopped talking as soon as Kael approached, but not before he caught the tail end of Aira’s words.
“…he should have trusted you.”
Selene’s eyes flicked to Kael, cool and unreadable. “We’ll talk later,” she told Aira.
“We need to speak,” Kael said quietly once Aira was gone.
“About Lucien?”
“About the fact that you seem to be giving him the benefit of the doubt more than you’re giving me.”
Selene crossed her arms, the cold air stirring the edge of her cloak. “I’m trying to understand both sides. And I can’t do that if you keep me in the dark about your decisions. You’re my mate, Kael. But lately… you feel like my Alpha first, and my partner second.”
Kael’s wolf bristled, but his voice was calm. “I was protecting you.”
Her expression didn’t soften. “Or controlling me?” she asked softly.
The question landed with the force of a blow. Kael said nothing, and after a moment, Selene turned away, walking back toward the packhouse without looking back.
By morning, the cracks were showing everywhere.
Two sentries at the gate openly asked when Lucien would be given a public hearing. A young tracker requested reassignment to patrol the far woods instead of the borders near the packhouse. An omega in the kitchens served Kael without meeting his eyes, her hands trembling just slightly.
Even the stablemaster — a wolf who had served Kael’s father faithfully for decades — paused too long before saying his Alpha’s name.
In the war room, Ronan found Kael standing over a spread of maps, the glow of the lanterns throwing deep shadows across his face.
“It’s getting worse,” Ronan said grimly. “Lucien’s name is in every whisper. I even heard a few wolves say he was the one preparing for trouble while you sat in your office. If you don’t act soon, this won’t just be gossip. It’ll be a fracture.”
Kael didn’t look up from the maps. “What do you suggest?”
“Something decisive. Something public. Right now it’s your word against his, and he’s winning the room without even being in it.”
Kael stared down at the territory lines drawn on the parchment, tracing one with a fingertip. His voice, when it came, was low but unyielding.
“Then we’ll settle it. Publicly. He wants an audience? He’ll get one.”
The decision was made. The trial would happen. But Kael already knew — in the pit of his gut — that Lucien wasn’t going to walk into it beaten.
No. Lucien would walk into it ready. And smiling.
- Writer
