Chapter 5

The greenhouse had been locked for everyone in the castle since my mother's death. Only the gardener was allowed inside to keep it from falling into ruin.

I turned to the guard standing by the door.

"Bring me Seraphina."

"Yes, my lord." He was already running.

I stepped inside. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do it in the one place that still felt like it belonged to someone who'd loved without calculating the cost first.

Nothing had changed. Butterflies drifted between overgrown vines. Citrus trees filled the air with the faint scent of oranges and lemons, and rare plants climbed the trellises exactly as she'd trained them to.

My mother had built this place piece by piece, over years I only half remembered. She used to call it her little piece of summer. Even in the deepest winter, or rainy spring, or clouded autumn, it stayed warm in here. Alive. Safe, in a way nothing else in this castle had ever quite managed to be.

Maybe that was why I'd sent for Seraphina to come here instead of anywhere else. Some part of me needed my mother's blessing more than the Council's, and this greenhouse was the closest I would ever get to asking for it.

I stopped beside the old stone fountain and looked up through the glass ceiling.

"Mother, I don't know if you can hear me." Nothing answered, of course. Only the low hum of insects and water dripping somewhere among the vines.

Still, I couldn't stop talking. "Father thinks I'm doing the right thing." I pulled the box from my pocket and turned it over in my hand. "I hope you do too." My thumb traced its edge. "I could use some of your courage right now. If you're listening — give me a sign. Anything that tells me I'm not about to make the worst mistake of my life."

The greenhouse held still around me.

Then, behind me, the door opened.

Somewhere near the far wall, a clay pot slid off its shelf and shattered against the stone floor.

I spun toward the sound, heart lurching before I understood — just a pot, an old bracket finally giving out after years of rust. Nothing more than that. It had to be nothing more than that.

Seraphina stood frozen in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. "What was that?"

"Nothing," I said, too fast. "Old shelf. It's been coming loose for years."

She wore a pale blue dress, her blonde hair pinned loosely, a few strands already coming free in the humid air.

"Your guard said you wanted to see me here. Why here?" She stepped inside, letting the door fall shut. "I thought this place was closed."

She crossed the path toward me, and I suddenly wished I were facing a hundred rogues instead. At least I always knew what to do with rogues.

"Seraphina."

Something in my voice made her smile fade. "Yes?"

I looked at her. For six years, she had been by my side, through Asta's fevers. Through the broken arm from the stable roof she'd sworn she'd never climbed. Through every council dinner I'd avoided. Every year since my mate's death.

Seraphina had stayed through all of it, without ever once asking for anything in return.

Maybe love didn't always arrive like fire. Maybe sometimes it was simply the person who remained when everything else had already burned down.

"We've known each other most of our lives," I said.

She smiled faintly. "That's a very serious way to start a sentence."

"And for the past six years, you've been part of Asta's life."

Her expression shifted, wary. "Aidan—"

"You raised her."

"I love her."

"I know." My fingers tightened around the box. "You gave her a mother when I couldn't."

Her eyes were already shining.

"You're of Lycan blood. My father supports you. The council will too."

A small crease appeared between her brows — not the direction she'd expected this to go, probably because I was doing a terrible job of it.

"So." I exhaled. "I've been thinking it's time we formalized an alliance."

She stared at me. "An alliance?"

I closed my eyes for half a second. When I opened them, she was almost smiling despite it.

"Are you asking for my hand, Aidan?"

"I'm asking you to become my Luna. And, soon enough, Luna Queen of every pack under this crown."

For one full heartbeat, she didn't move. Then both hands flew up to cover her mouth.

"I thought you would never ask." Her voice cracked. "Aidan, I've dreamed about this since I was a girl." She laughed softly through tears. "Yes."

I hadn't even opened the box yet.

"Yes," she repeated, closing the last of the distance between us. "Of course, yes."

I opened it.

Seraphina went still. "Is that—"

"My mother's."

Her face crumpled. "Oh, Aidan."

I took her bare hand in my gloved one, and my fingers froze.

For one absurd second, I wished it was another hand in mine.

Her hand.

I wanted to feel that warm skin beneath my bare fingers again, with no leather between us, just like that night six years ago.

The memory hit harder than it should have after all these years.

What a fucking fool I'd been.

If I hadn't left her that morning, maybe she'd still be alive.

I swallowed and looked down at the ring, the gold blurring for a second before I blinked it clear.

Father was right. I had to let her go.

Seraphina had been a good mother to Asta. Maybe, with time, I could learn to love her too.

I slid my mother's ring onto Seraphina's finger with my gloved hand.

She stared down at it like I'd placed an entire crown there instead of a single ring. Then she threw both arms around my neck, and I closed my eyes and held her the way a man was supposed to hold the woman he'd just proposed to.

Above us, butterflies drifted beneath the glass roof of the small paradise my mother had built with her own hands.

I waited to feel something. Relief. Peace. Certainty. Anything at all that might tell me I'd made the right choice.

Instead, somewhere deep beneath my skin, my wolf went completely, utterly silent.

***

Elara’s POV

The carriage stopped in the castle courtyard. Will was out before I could stop him, staring up at the towers with his mouth open.

I climbed down after him and turned to Mira and Eric.

Eric leaned closer before I could step away.

“If you hate it here,” he said quietly near my ear, “you can always come back to the Velvet Cup.”

“That is terrible advice,” Mira said immediately. “This is the best opportunity she has right now.”

Eric rolled his eyes.

“You know I’m right,” she continued. “Half our regulars left to fight the rogues at the borders. No soldiers, no drunk travelers throwing coins around. Tomas can barely afford to pay us anymore.”

Unfortunately, she was right.

Mira pulled me into a quick hug. “Go. Get your rich castle job. And don't let the little monster eat you alive.”

“Mira.”

She laughed and climbed back into the carriage.

I took Will's hand and watched them leave before turning toward the castle.

A servant met us inside.

“I’m Elara. I was told there was a position here for a nanny. My son will be staying with me.”

He nodded. “This way.”

Instead of taking us deeper into the main castle, he led us across the courtyard to a smaller building where the castle staff lived.

A few minutes later, Will and I were sitting across from a tall, neatly dressed woman.

“Cordelia,” she introduced herself. “I manage the castle household.”

“Elara.”

Her eyes moved to Will.

“And this is?”

“My son, Will. He’s five.”

“Five.” Something almost amused flickered across her face. “Then perhaps you are better prepared for this position than most.”

I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that.

Cordelia folded her hands on the desk.

“The child you would be caring for is also five. Her name is Asta. She is the Alpha’s daughter.”

“I was told she can be... difficult.”

“That was polite.”

I blinked.

“Ten nannies in the last year,” Cordelia continued. “Asta frightened away six. Three quit after incidents I would rather not discuss. One lasted less than a day.”

Will looked at me.

I looked at Cordelia.

“And what exactly did she do to them?”

“You can ask her yourself if you survive the first week.”

I couldn't tell if she was joking.

“When would I start?”

“Immediately.”

“Immediately?”

Cordelia nodded. “If you still want the position, of course.”

I thought about the Velvet Cup, the tavern where Mira and I had worked for the past six years. The empty tables. Fewer travelers every week. The coins I counted twice before spending.

Then I looked at Will.

“I do.”

“Good.” Cordelia stood. “Someone will show you and your son to your room. You can settle in tonight.”

“And Asta?”

“You’ll meet her in the morning.”

Cordelia opened the door.

I had barely stepped into the corridor when Will suddenly stopped beside me.

“Mama.”

I followed his gaze.

A little girl stood at the top of the stairs, watching us — dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then something strange tightened inside my chest.

I had never seen that child before. So why did looking at her feel like I had?