The estate did not quiet after the warnings from the west line.
If anything, the tension settled deeper into the bones of the place. Doors closed harder than usual. Conversations dropped into whispers when footsteps approached. Wolves who had trained beside one another for years suddenly watched each other with guarded eyes.
Elara felt every ripple of it.
The bond between her and Alessandro carried those emotions like faint echoes. Anger. Loyalty. Suspicion. Fear.
And beneath it all—expectation.
She walked alone through the lower garden path, needing air, needing silence that did not taste like politics and tension.
The morning had grown brighter, but the sun felt weak behind thin clouds. Wind brushed the hedges and carried the distant scent of pine and wet earth.
Normally the garden soothed her.
Today it felt exposed.
Her mind kept replaying Serena's confession, the clause in her father's documents, the envoy's smug tone.
Everything felt tangled.
