The words were quiet. Very calm.
But it was precisely because they were too calm that there was nothing he could say in return.
He looked as if something had closed over his throat. For a long time he couldn't speak. When he finally managed, the words came out strained.
"There's still my brother… he loved you."
I laughed.
I laughed for a long time.
By the end, my eyes were faintly red.
"He's already dead."
The moment you chose to fake your death, in my heart, you died too.
I didn't say that aloud.
But I knew he understood.
I looked at him, my gaze as still as dead water, without a single ripple.
He had nothing left to say.
Guilt crept up, bit by bit, and swallowed him whole. He stood abruptly, as though he couldn't bear to face me a second longer.
"I'll go check on Hazel Ashford."
With that, he all but fled the room.
I followed the healer's instructions and rested quietly at the infirmary for several days.
The day I was discharged, Magnus Marlowe called us all before him.
He beckoned me over with a slow wave, gesturing for me to sit at his side. The old Alpha's scent of oak bark and winter frost settled around me, steady and familiar.
"Hazel, today is the Remembrance Moon. Go see Sylvia Nightfang one last time."
When he said it, his eyes held a grief and a guilt he couldn't fully hide.
He gave a few more quiet words to Sylvia Nightfang and Hazel Ashford, then let us go.
The attendants loaded the ceremonial offerings into the vehicle.
We were about to get in when Hazel Ashford suddenly said she'd forgotten something and turned back toward the estate.
I reached for the door, ready to climb in, but a hand closed around my wrist.
"What did Grandfather mean by 'one last time'? Are you hiding something from us?"
I looked down at his hand. Calmly, I pulled free.
"Nothing." My voice was level. "Grandfather just doesn't want me dwelling in the past anymore. That's all he meant."
I got into the vehicle and shut the door.
Clean. Final. Without looking at him again.
He stood where I'd left him, staring at his own empty hand, fingertips hollow against the air. His brow tightened before he realized it.
He sensed, dimly, that something was slipping out of his control. But the feeling was too faint to hold, too shapeless to name.
He wanted to press further.
But Hazel Ashford was already hurrying back, looping her arm through his.
"Let's go, darling."
He swallowed the words before they left his mouth.