The palace garden was quiet in the early dusk, its fountains whispering in the background while the sun bled gold into the sky. For once, no guards trailed them. No courtiers lingered with curious eyes. It was just Celine and Leon, walking slowly between white-blossomed trees that arched like ribs over the marble path.
It wasn’t freedom. But it was the closest they’d come in days.
Leon hadn’t said much since this morning’s meeting. His jaw had been tight, his posture guarded, even with her. Celine had let him be—until now.
She tugged his hand gently, pulling him to a stop beneath a tree heavy with flowers.
“Breathe,” she said, resting both palms against his chest.
He finally looked at her.
Just her.
Her face was soft in the fading light, eyes silver like polished glass. Her hair was down, slightly tousled by the wind, and for a moment, he could almost forget where they were.
Almost.
She smiled faintly. “It’ll be over soon.”
Leon’s brow furrowed. “You think he’s just going to let you leave?”
“I think he’ll find nothing to use against me,” she said. “I’ve answered his questions. I’ve shifted for his court. I’ve shown control.”
“Power isn’t the only thing he wants,” Leon said quietly.
Her smile faltered.
He saw the flicker of exhaustion in her. The way her shoulders drooped just a little. The way her voice softened not from confidence—but from the effort of holding on.
“I know,” she admitted. “But he’s clever. He’ll see how dangerous it is to push this any further.”
“He doesn’t care about danger, Celine. He is the danger.”
She stepped closer, her forehead brushing against his. “Then we’ll survive him too.”
Leon exhaled, curling his arms around her waist, pulling her close like she might slip away if he blinked.
“I miss you,” he murmured, voice low.
She leaned into him, her fingers resting lightly against his chest. “You have me.”
“No,” he said, a little rougher now. “I mean… I miss us. Before all of this.”
Before the capital. Before the politics. Before the tension that always waited at the edge of every look, every word.
Celine nodded, closing her eyes as she rested her cheek against him. “Me too.”
They stood like that for a while—breathing each other in, the garden around them hushed and still. Beyond the hedges, the palace loomed tall and silent, but here, in this pocket of quiet, time slowed. Just for a moment, it felt like theirs again.
Then, footsteps.
A guard approached with a low bow. “Alpha Leon. His Majesty has requested your presence.”
Leon stiffened slightly but didn’t break their hold. “Now?”
“It’s urgent.”
Leon’s jaw worked, but he looked down at Celine. “I can stay—”
She shook her head gently. “Go. I’ll stay here for a bit.”
He hesitated, then kissed her forehead and left, his figure disappearing down the path with the guard.
Celine stood alone in the garden, the soft wind rustling through the leaves. The stars had begun to show above the palace rooflines, faint and scattered, and the air was thick with the perfume of night flowers.
She tilted her face up, letting the quiet wrap around her.
But the peace didn’t hold.
Her chest tightened—not with fear, but homesickness. Crimson Fang. The scent of pine and ash. The sharp mountain air. The sound of Felix’s laugh, Lucy’s hurried steps, Helga’s sharp voice cutting through morning fog. She missed belonging.
The thought barely had time to settle before everything changed.
A shadow moved behind her.
And then—an arm.
A hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her breath, dragging her backward into the darkness at the edge of the hedge-lined wall.