Athena’s POV
It had been a few weeks since the Royal Pack’s celebration—the night Emily pulled me aside and gutted me with words only she should’ve never known. Since then, I’d kept my head down, avoided attention, and did everything I could to keep the truth from spreading.
I stayed out of the main halls, wore looser clothes, and disappeared before breakfast every morning to throw up where no one could hear me.
But rumors had a way of crawling through walls. And lately, they’d been crawling fast.
I was in the courtyard, watering the plants near the edge of the training grounds, when I heard a voice behind me.
“You left the party early.”
I froze.
I turned slowly and saw him—Eryndor, leaning against a stone column, arms crossed, smirk in place.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Just picking up supplies,” he said. “Your parents still owe my pack a few trade items.” He pushed off the column and walked toward me. “Didn’t think I’d see you, though. Lucky me.”
“I’m not in the mood for your mocking, Eryndor.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mood swings already? So it’s true, then? You’re carrying pups?”
“Whose pups?” he asked, his voice low. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrowed as he studied me, like he was trying to read something beneath my skin. For half a second, something flickered there—something almost like regret. But it vanished just as quickly as it came, replaced by that same smug sneer I remembered too well.
“Lucky me,” he said. “I rejected you before this mess. You’re not even worth the effort now.”
His words hit harder than I expected. I should’ve been numb to it. I’d heard worse. From him. But somehow, Eryndor always knew exactly where to strike.
I turned to walk away, jaw clenched, but his voice followed me.
“Who is it, then?” he called after me. “One of the guards? A merchant? Or maybe just some drunk you dragged into your bed?”
I clenched my fists, trying to breathe.
He stepped around me, blocking my path. “Tell me. Who fathered your dirty little secret? Or are you too ashamed to admit the father was a filthy rogue?”
My mouth opened, but I said nothing. Not because I couldn’t—but because I wouldn’t.
Because part of me was still hoping… somehow, Varianth would remember. And I needed to know that if he came for me, it wasn’t just because of the child.
Eryndor’s lip curled when I stayed silent.
“Or maybe,” Eryndor added with a cruel smirk, “you don’t even know who fucked you. You little whore.”
His tone was coated in mock sympathy, like he thought he was being clever.
My vision blurred with heat. I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe.
I slapped him. The sound cracked through the courtyard. His head jerked sideways from the impact, and silence fell between us. My hand was still trembling when I pulled it back. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Eryndor turned slowly, one hand on his cheek, his smile gone.
I stepped back, chest rising and falling fast. “Say whatever you want about me,” I said, voice low. “But you don’t get to speak to me like that. Not anymore.”
And I shoved past him.
I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care who whispered behind their hands. Let them talk. Let them stare. I wasn’t going to let him break me again.