Olivia’s POV
By morning, the whispers were already louder than the dawn birdsong.
I could hear them in the halls of the packhouse, drifting through the kitchens, slipping between the courtyards like smoke. The servants looked away a little too quickly, their greetings tinged with unease. Guards shifted on their posts as though suddenly uncertain of what they were protecting.
“Banished blood.”
“Cursed blood.”
“Serpent blood.”
The words followed me like shadows.
Lucas kept close, his presence as steady as ever, but I could see the sharpness in his stride, the way his jaw clenched when another wolf lowered their eyes at my passing. He carried their doubt like an insult, like a blade drawn on me.
“Let them look,” he muttered as we walked through the main hall. “By the time we’re done,
