"She saved him."
The whisper followed Zoraide down the corridor.
Another voice answered. "I saw it. His chest was not moving. Then it was."
She kept her eyes forward.
Small steps. Calm breathing. Herbal mask secure at her throat.
Medicinal rot wrapped around her like armor.
A pair of warriors stepped aside as she passed.
Not out of dominance.
Out of respect.
Her pulse flickered.
She did not react.
"Thank you," one of them said quietly.
She paused.
"For what?" she asked.
"For bringing Darius back."
She nodded once. "He fought hard."
The warrior shook his head. "No. You did."
Footsteps clicked sharply against stone.
Isolde.
Of course.
"Well," Isolde said lightly, voice dripping with sweetness, "how inspiring. Our little Omega performing miracles."
The hallway went still.
Zoraide turned slowly.
"I performed stitches," she replied calmly.
Isolde's eyes scanned her from head to toe.
"You trembled while doing it."
"I was tired."
"You glowed."
A few wolves exchanged looks.
Zoraide's lips curved faintly. "Poor lighting."
Isolde stepped closer.
Her perfume was thick and floral. Artificial dominance.
"You have stirred the pack," Isolde said softly. "They are speaking of you."
"People speak when they are bored."
"They are not bored." Isolde's gaze sharpened. "They are curious."
"So is your Alpha," Zoraide said quietly.
The air shifted instantly.
Isolde's jaw tightened.
"You forget your place."
"I was told my place is under observation."
Several warriors coughed awkwardly.
Isolde's smile thinned.
"You are still Omega," she said softly. "Do not mistake applause for power."
Zoraide stepped closer.
Close enough that their scents clashed.
"Power does not need applause."
Isolde's eyes flashed briefly.
"Careful," she warned.
"Always."
A low ripple of tension spread through the corridor.
Then a deeper voice cut through it.
"That is enough."
Alaric.
The pack parted immediately.
He walked toward them with controlled steps.
His gaze lingered on Zoraide first.
Then shifted to Isolde.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
Isolde's posture straightened instantly.
"None, Alpha. We were simply congratulating your healer."
Alaric's eyes returned to Zoraide.
"You enjoy attention?" he asked quietly.
"I enjoy breathing," she replied.
His jaw flexed.
"Walk with me."
She obeyed.
Isolde watched them go.
The scent of her irritation trailed behind like smoke.
Once they were alone in the upper corridor, Alaric stopped abruptly.
"You should not provoke her."
"She approached me."
"You responded."
"She insulted me."
His eyes flashed gold.
"And you answered like an Alpha."
Silence.
She held his gaze.
"I answered like myself."
He stepped closer.
The mate bond thickened instantly.
"You are shifting the pack," he said quietly.
"I stitched a wound."
"You bent the air."
"I saved your warrior."
"And now they look at you differently."
"Is that a problem?"
His hand reached for the stone railing beside him.
It cracked slightly under his grip.
"Yes."
"Because?"
"Because loyalty shifts when power shifts."
She tilted her head.
"Do you fear that?"
His eyes darkened.
"I fear what I cannot control."
The words hung heavy.
"You cannot control me," she said softly.
His gaze dropped briefly to her throat.
"To your scent," he corrected.
She instinctively touched the herbal mask.
"You still smell wrong," he murmured.
"Medicinal rot," she said lightly.
"And something brighter."
"Imagination."
He stepped closer.
Now only inches separated them.
"You burned silver in that room."
"You stepped closer."
"You drew from me."
"You offered."
His nostrils flared.
The bond pulsed hard.
"You are playing a dangerous game."
"I did not ask to play."
He studied her carefully.
"Why did you risk exposure?"
"Because he was dying."
"And if the council uses that against you?"
"Then they prove they do not deserve you."
That landed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You speak boldly for someone with no rank."
"Rank does not make you right."
Silence.
Footsteps echoed below.
Whispers.
Respect.
Her name.
He heard it too.
"They are calling you Starborn," he said quietly.
She did not react.
"Is that what you are?"
"I am tired," she replied.
He moved closer again.
"You cannot hide the shift. Even your scent is changing."
"It is the herbs."
"It is not."
Before she could answer, raised voices echoed from the courtyard below.
Zoraide leaned slightly over the railing.
A small crowd had gathered.
Darius stood in the center.
Alive.
Steady.
He raised his voice.
"She did not just stitch me," he called. "She held my life in her hands."
Murmurs rippled outward.
"She carries High Blood," someone whispered.
Isolde stepped forward into the courtyard.
"Enough," she snapped. "You are alive because our Alpha's strength filled the room."
Darius shook his head.
"I felt it," he insisted. "It was hers first."
The courtyard fell silent.
Alaric's presence flared beside Zoraide.
His scent thickened.
Dominant.
Claiming.
"Do not speak further," he commanded from above.
The pack stilled instantly.
Isolde's gaze snapped upward.
Her eyes locked onto Zoraide.
There was no sweetness now.
Only calculation.
Zoraide stepped back from the railing.
"They will divide over this," Alaric said quietly.
"I did not ask them to."
"But they will."
He turned to face her fully.
"And Isolde will not tolerate it."
"I am not afraid of her."
"You should be."
She met his gaze.
"Are you?"
His eyes flashed.
Instead of answering, he grabbed the crystal goblet resting on a nearby table.
It shattered in his hand.
Liquid dripped between his fingers.
"I do not tolerate threats inside my walls," he said softly.
"Then perhaps you should watch more carefully," she replied.
A sharp knock sounded at the far end of the corridor.
A guard approached quickly.
"Alpha."
"What now?"
"The council requests immediate assembly."
Alaric did not move.
"For what?" he asked.
The guard hesitated.
"For formal recognition."
Silence stretched thin.
"Recognition of whom?" Alaric asked quietly.
The guard swallowed.
"Of the healer."
Zoraide's pulse thudded once.
Alaric's gaze snapped to her.
The mate bond surged violently.
Recognition meant rank.
Rank meant exposure.
And exposure meant danger.
Below, Isolde's voice rose again.
"She is not one of us."
The guard shifted nervously.
"The council believes otherwise."
Alaric stepped closer to Zoraide.
His voice dropped low.
"Did you plan this?"
"No."
"Then we walk into it together."
Her breath caught.
"Together?"
His eyes burned.
"If they raise you, they challenge me."
"And if they reject me?"
"They insult my judgment."
The tension between them thickened.
The guard cleared his throat.
"There is one more matter."
Alaric did not look away from Zoraide.
"Speak."
"The elders uncovered something in the archives."
Zoraide's stomach tightened.
"What?" Alaric demanded.
The guard's voice lowered.
"A sealed record. The Starborn line was not wiped out."
Silence.
"They believe," the guard continued carefully, "that one descendant was hidden inside this territory twenty years ago."
The world seemed to narrow.
Alaric's eyes locked onto Zoraide's.
Gold blazing.
"And they have a name," the guard finished.
The mate bond roared like a storm.
"What name?" Alaric asked softly.
The guard swallowed.
"Zoraide."