Octavia's POV
I woke the next morning feeling nauseous, and with a clarity that had eluded me for weeks.
The careful dance of observation and silence had to end. I couldn't continue living in a marriage built on unspoken truths and shadowed corners. If I was going to survive this arrangement, if I was going to find any semblance of happiness or purpose, I needed answers.
During the afternoon, while Darius attended to business in the outer chambers, I sought out Lady Margaret. She was the gentlest of my ladies-in-waiting, with kind eyes and a soft voice that never carried judgment. I found her alone in the solar, mending one of my gowns by the window.
"Margaret," I said, settling into the chair across from her. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
Her needle stilled in the fabric, and she looked up with wariness creeping into her expression. "Of course, my lady."
"What do the servants know about the wolf sightings around the castle?" I asked plainly. "And what do they say about Prince Darius?"
Margaret's face went pale, her eyes dropping back to her needlework. For a long moment, I thought she wouldn't answer at all. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"There have always been rumors, my lady. Stories passed down from the older servants to the younger ones." She glanced toward the door, as if checking to ensure we were truly alone.
"Red eyes in the woods at night. People going missing from the villages. Things seen moving in the fog that aren't quite human, but aren't quite animal either."
"And the prince?" I pressed gently.
Margaret's hands trembled slightly as she set down her sewing. "He is... different from other rulers. Quiet. Keeps to himself more than is natural for a man in his position. He doesn't attend feasts or hold court like his father did. People don't fear him openly, he's never been cruel or violent in his human form, but they don't speak of him freely either."
"What do you mean?"
"When his name comes up in conversation, people look over their shoulders first. They lower their voices. They change the subject quickly." She met my eyes then, her expression grave.
The weight of her words settled over me like a shroud. "How long have you known?"
"Known what, my lady?" But the way she asked told me she understood exactly what I meant.
"That my husband becomes a real monster when the sun sets and not just the cruel person everyone talked about."
Margaret's breath caught. "My lady, I couldn't say-"
"You don't have to say anything," I assured her. "I already know. I've seen him."
That evening, I found myself standing outside Darius's study, my heart hammering against my ribs as I gathered the courage to do what I should have done weeks ago.
Through the partially open door, I could see him bent over his desk, papers scattered across the surface, maps half-rolled at the edges. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting dancing shadows across his face.
I stepped inside without asking permission. He didn't look up immediately, his attention focused on whatever document he was reading.
I used those precious seconds to study him, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the careful control he maintained even when he thought he was alone.
"I know about the wolf," I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
His hand stilled on the paper, but he didn't raise his head. "Do you?"
"I know it's you."
Finally, he looked up, those dark eyes meeting mine with an expression that confirmed everything without a single word. No denial, no surprise, no attempt at deception. Just a weary acceptance that our dance of secrets had finally come to an end.
"You've been watching me," I accused, my voice rising with each word. "Stalking through the woods in that form, seeing me when I thought I was alone. You've been lying to me from the moment I arrived here."
"I never lied to you," he said quietly, setting down his quill with deliberate precision. "I simply didn't burden you with truths you weren't ready to hear."
"Burden me?" Heat flashed through my chest. "I didn't come here to be protected from reality, Darius. I came here to be your wife, not your prisoner."
"You're not my prisoner."
"Then what am I?" I stepped closer to his desk, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Because I'm certainly not free. You forbid me from leaving the castle grounds, you disappear for hours without explanation, you treat me like a stranger in our own home. What exactly am I to you?"
He stood slowly, his movements controlled and deliberate. "You're not a prisoner, but you're not free either. The alliance keeps you here, and until it's safe, until I can be certain I won't hurt you, you must stay hidden."
"Hidden from what? From you?" I laughed bitterly. "I'm your wife, Darius. I signed documents, I spoke vows, I shared your bed. But you treat me like a secret you regret having."
"That's not-"
"I didn't marry into silence!" The words burst from me with surprising force. "I deserve to be seen, to be part of whatever truth you're hiding. I deserve to know what I'm living with, what I'm married to. I may be your wife by name, but you act like I'm nothing more than an inconvenience you're forced to endure."
The effort it took to speak those words left me breathless. A wave of heat rushed to my face, and the edges of the room began to blur. I reached out, gripping the edge of the table beside me as my knees wobbled beneath the weight of everything, rage, fear, and exhaustion. Darius moved instantly, a step forward, his hand outstretched to steady me.
“Don’t,” I said quickly, breathless but firm, avoiding his touch. “I’m fine. Just feeling sick, that’s all.”
His hand hovered in the air between us for a second longer, then slowly dropped to his side. Darius stood there, utterly still, his face a mask of careful neutrality. He didn't argue back, didn't defend himself, didn't offer any explanation or apology. He just watched me with those dark eyes, silent as a stone.
That silence hurt more than shouting would have. More than anger or accusations or even cruelty. It was the silence of a man who had already decided I wasn't worth the effort of explanation, who had written me off as just another obligation to be managed.
My throat tightened with unshed tears, and suddenly I couldn't bear to look at him another moment. I turned and fled from the room, my footsteps echoing off the stone corridors as I ran back to my chambers.
I didn't look back, I couldn't. Because if I had, I might have seen something in his expression that would have made me stay, and I wasn't ready for that kind of vulnerability, not yet.