After the "white flower" incident in the study, the atmosphere between Kaelen and me underwent a subtle change.
He no longer just coldly ordered me to eat. Sometimes, he would awkwardly discuss a few of the battle tactics from the books with me, though he always ended with, "What do you know?"
One morning, I woke to find a single white wildflower, still wet with dew, in the vase by my bed. This made me even more certain that the late-night visitor was this hypocritical man before me.
Soon, it was the night of the full moon again.
I nervously awaited the arrival of the "Silver Frost Blood's" agony, but miraculously, this time, the bone-deep chill did not come as expected. It was just a faint electric current, flowing gently through my veins, bringing a tingling coolness. It was even more effective at easing the discomfort than Physician Ilian's herbs.
I came out of the bathroom, drying my wet hair with a towel, my mother's silver comb in my hand. But I couldn't get the tangles out.
"Clumsy."
Kaelen had, at some point, appeared behind me. He took the comb from my hand and, with his calloused warrior's hands, began to awkwardly but gently comb my long hair.
His movements were clumsy, and he occasionally snagged my hair, but I didn't say a word. I just watched his focused, awkward expression in the reflection of the mirror by the hearth.
He hadn't taken Morgana's potion tonight either, but he seemed… exceptionally calm. No pain, no struggle. His usually lightless eyes, in the dancing firelight, actually held a soft glow.
"Why…?" I couldn't help but ask. "Why are we… both alright?"
"I don't know," he said, looking at the dancing flames, his voice low. "Perhaps… this is the true purpose of the blood pact."
We sat in silence, listening to the crackle of the burning wood in the hearth. It was a warm and serene atmosphere I had never experienced on a full moon night.
After he finished combing my hair, I sat by the fire and began to talk about the legends of the Moon Lake I had read in the books.
"The book says the Moon Lake was formed from the tears of the Moon Goddess," I said. "According to legend, the first werewolf was created by the Moon Goddess from her own silver blood and the soul of an ancient giant wolf. They were once the guardians of the Moon Goddess. But later, the werewolves, driven by suspicion, started the first civil war, brother against brother. The Moon Goddess wept in sorrow. Her tears fell into the lake, forming the 'Moon Tear Stones.' At the same time, she also laid down a curse—all the bloodlines of the werewolves who participated in that fratricidal war would, on the night of the full moon, suffer the same heart-wrenching pain she had felt."
"Your 'Rage Blood' and my 'Silver Frost Blood' are the purest bloodline imprints left by the two opposing werewolf progenitors from that ancient civil war."
"But the most crucial pages in the book… were torn out," I said with regret. "They probably recorded what needed to be done to appease the Moon Goddess's anger and lift the curse."
"Perhaps the one who tore them out didn't want anyone else to know the truth," Kaelen said, looking at me pointedly.
I was fiddling with my mother's silver comb. I then took the watery-blue "Moon Tear Stone" from my inner pocket.
Once again, I tried to fit the gem into the empty hollow on the comb. They fit perfectly.
Kaelen's gaze fell on the Moon Tear Stone in my hand, and his eyes, for the first time, contracted violently.
"That thing…" his voice was hoarse, laced with disbelief. "How do you have it?"
"It's none of your business," I immediately put the stone and comb away, looking at him warily.
"Answer me," he said, taking a step forward, his powerful presence pressing in on me. "Where did it come from?"
"I found it," I returned his gaze stubbornly. "In a place… where a giant black nail fragment was left behind."
Kaelen's body jolted. He looked at me, then at the comb and stone in my hand, his eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a deep, profound pain I couldn't understand.
He saw the wary look in my eyes and knew this was not the time to press the matter. The emotions in his eyes slowly receded, leaving only a deep complexity.
"...Keep it safe," his tone softened slightly. "Don't let anyone else see it."
He then turned and returned to his seat, leaving me with his enigmatic back.
It's as if… he's seen it before.
That night was the most peaceful night I had had since coming to the North. I even had a dream in which I saw my mother's blurry face, smiling at me.
After that peaceful full moon night, the air in the quarters changed.
Kaelen was no longer just my guard. He would, under the guise of "understanding the enemy," listen to me talk about my life and the customs of the South. He even, from somewhere, found a southern cook, and my daily meals became the taste of my homeland that I remembered.
And in the vase by my bed, a single white wildflower, still wet with dew, would quietly appear.
He never admitted it, but I knew.
I was still, in name, his "suspect," but I had become a secret, awkwardly and domineeringly kept in his territory.
One evening, as the fire in the hearth burned brightly, I closed my book and decided to take the initiative.
"Kaelen, have any more concubines gone missing from the courtyard recently?" I asked tentatively.
"No. Not since the new matron took over," he replied without looking up.
"A new matron?" My heart tightened. "What about the old one?"
"She's dead," he said, his tone flat, as if stating an unimportant fact. "She drowned in the old well behind the courtyard while we were in the Wailing Canyon. Morgana said the missing girls were connected to her, and she killed herself out of guilt."
"I don't believe it!" I shot to my feet, the shock and anger making it impossible for me to remain calm. "That's impossible! The timing of her death is too convenient! It must have something to do with Liam's investigation!"
He looked up from his documents, his lightless eyes on me. "You had him investigate too?"
"Of course," I returned his gaze calmly. "I couldn't just watch them disappear one by one. Liam promised he would help me."
Kaelen's expression instantly turned cold, a sarcastic sneer on his lips. "Is that so? Then did he not tell you that he found nothing?"
My heart sank. "He told you? So, you had him investigate too?"
This time, it was his turn to be silent.
So, we had both been fighting our own battles in the dark, but had, without knowing, placed our trust in the same person.
"Stay out of it," he said, looking at me, his voice cold. "Some things are more complicated than you think."
"Is that so?" I looked at him. "I suspect my friend Willow's disappearance is also connected to this."
"I've told you, I did not take your friend," a hint of impatience entered his voice.
"Then why did I find a strand of Willow's dark brown hair in the crack of the locked room on the top floor of the tower? Tell me, where is she?"
"Aila," his voice was tinged with weariness. "I did not harm Willow. On the contrary, I… am protecting her."
"Protecting her?"
"Yes," his gaze was exceptionally firm. "Because the one who truly wants to harm you both is someone else. In this castle, there is an unseen eye, watching all of us."
"Then how do you explain this?" I wasted no more words and placed the black nail fragment directly on the map of his territory that was spread out before him.
The moment his eyes fell on the nail fragment, his pupils contracted sharply.
"I found this where Willow disappeared," I pressed on. "It belongs to one of your northern werewolves. Don't tell me your men have never been to the South."
He suddenly stood, his tall figure instantly looming over me. I instinctively took a step back, my back hitting the cold, massive bookshelf.
The next second, he was upon me, one hand slamming against the bookshelf by my ear, trapping me between his chest and the bookshelf.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, lowering his head, his crisp scent of pine and ice completely enveloping me.
"Willow," I said, looking up and meeting his deep, intense eyes without fear. "Tell me, where is she?"
He looked at me for a long time before saying, in a cold tone, "In the eyes of my uncle and the elders, this nail fragment is proof that the South has the ability to infiltrate our territory and take a trophy from a powerful northern werewolf. They would use it as an excuse to start a war they have long desired."
"Using politics as an excuse again," I didn't believe him. I took out the Moon Tear Stone and dangled it in front of him. "Then what about this? You recognize it too, don't you?"
At the sight of the Moon Tear Stone, the final line of his defense seemed to crumble. The oppressive aura of the Alpha suddenly dissipated, replaced by a deep helplessness.
"The shadows in this castle run deeper than you can imagine," his voice dropped, hoarse and gentle. He slowly raised his other hand, the one covered in battle scars, and, with a hint of hesitation, gently brushed my cheek.
"I am trying to… protect you all."
Just as I was lost in the warmth of his hand—
BANG—!
The study door was thrown open with a massive force!
It was Rosalind!
She had burst in without even being announced. And she had walked in on a very compromising scene: Kaelen had me trapped between his chest and the bookshelf, in a pose as intimate as lovers, and his hand was gently caressing my cheek.
Rosalind froze, her panicked expression solidifying, then being replaced by an incredulous pain and jealousy.
The hand caressing my cheek froze. All the warmth instantly vanished. He pulled his hand back and, without a trace of effort, moved to the side, shielding me behind him. This small movement, however, was a poisoned dagger that plunged even deeper into Rosalind's heart.
But a greater fear made Rosalind forget all of that. She pointed outside, her voice trembling with fear and heartbreak. "Something… something's happened! The Black Forest… an urgent report from Gavin! A patrol… was completely slaughtered! They were all… disemboweled and hung from the trees!"
She looked at Kaelen, then at me, who was being shielded in his arms. Her usually jealous eyes were now filled with a pure, unadulterated fear and a hatred for me, the "southerner."
In that instant, Kaelen's face became darker than the night sky outside.
"I understand," Kaelen's voice was devoid of any emotion. "Summon all the captains. We meet in the council hall."
Rosalind looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. In the end, filled with humiliation and resentment, she turned and left.
The study was once again silent, but the budding warmth between us had been completely frozen.
"Get some rest," he said, and without another word, he strode out, as if the man who had just gently caressed my cheek had been a figment of my imagination.