Rosalind did not return to her room that night.
Like a wounded ghost, she burst into the Regent's study, deep within the castle.
"Father!"
Barton was sitting by the hearth, slowly and methodically polishing an ancient ceremonial dagger with a soft piece of deerskin. Seeing his daughter storm in, her face streaked with tears, he showed no surprise. He just slowly put down the dagger and smiled affectionately.
"What is it, my dear daughter? Who has made the most beautiful rose of the North sad again?"
"It was him! It was Kaelen!" Rosalind's voice was filled with hatred. "He's been bewitched by that southern sorceress! I saw it with my own eyes… he touched her as if she were a treasure! Father, you said that once his curse was eased, you would make me Luna. Does our childhood bond mean less than a lowly half-blood offering?"
As Barton listened to his daughter's cries, a flicker of almost imperceptible ecstasy crossed his eyes.
The opportunity he had been waiting for had finally arrived.
He stood and walked to his daughter, wiping away her tears.
"Do not be hasty, my dear daughter," his voice was a viper's whisper. "How could a southern half-blood be worthy of the northern throne?"
He placed his hands on Rosalind's shoulders and made her look at the dancing flames in the hearth, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "She is… just a useful 'cure' for now. Kaelen's obsession with her is nothing more than an instinctive dependence brought on by the curse. As long as we can prove that she is not only useless but will also bring disaster, Kaelen will naturally come to his senses."
"But… what should I do?" Rosalind asked, looking at her father with tear-filled, lost eyes.
A cold curve touched Barton's lips.
"Father has a plan," he said slowly. "One that will not only make Kaelen see her for what she truly is but will also make him… no longer need her at all."
The torches in the council hall burned, crackling, casting the shadows of the past Alphas on the walls into grotesque, distorted figures.
Kaelen sat on the main throne, his face as dark as water. On the table before him lay Gavin's blood-stained, urgent report. Several captains stood below, their expressions grave.
"…The bodies were hung upside down, disemboweled," a captain reported in a low voice. "The method is identical to the group that attacked the supply depot, but this time, they left this at the scene."
He placed a charred fragment of a vambrace on the map. The southern crescent moon crest was still visible on it.
At that moment, Barton entered with Rosalind, Morgana, and several core elders.
"Kaelen," Barton's voice was heavy. "I have heard of the tragedy in the Black Forest. The southerners… have gone too far!"
Kaelen said nothing, just looked at him coldly.
"Father," Rosalind stepped forward, her face still streaked with tears, but her voice was exceptionally firm. "I… have intelligence to report as well."
All eyes were on her.
"At almost the same time that Gavin's patrol was attacked," she said, her voice trembling, "a small team I was leading was also ambushed on the eastern side of the forest. There weren't many of them, and they moved quickly, all wearing the southern crescent moon crest. We lost three of our brothers before we were able to fight them off."
"What?!" the Greymane elder was the first to explode in a rage. "They dare to be so rampant in our territory?!"
Barton stepped forward at the opportune moment and slammed a poisoned, southern-style arrow down next to the vambrace fragment.
"This is evidence brought back from Rosalind's battlefield," his voice was inflammatory. "A vambrace, an arrow, and two bloody massacres of our patrols. The southerners have, with their actions, declared war on us!"
The hall erupted in a fury.
"Lord Alpha! Give the order! We must teach those southern cowards a lesson!"
"That's right! Blood must be paid for with blood!"
Kaelen looked at the scene before him and knew he was caught in a trap he couldn't refuse. With Liam and Drake gone, his most trusted right and left hands had been sent away. The council hall was now Barton's to command.
"For the glory of the North, to avenge our fallen warriors!" the Greymane elder turned to Kaelen on the main throne, knelt on one knee, and pleaded loudly, "We implore you, Lord Alpha! Personally lead the army to the northern-southern border! Wash away our shame with the blood of the South!"
"We implore the Lord Alpha to go to war!"
Behind him, all the elders and captains knelt in unison.
Kaelen sat on the throne, silently looking down at the kneeling figures. A deep weariness flickered in his lightless eyes.
He knew he had to go.
The council meeting lasted late into the night.
I hadn't slept. I sat by the hearth, waiting quietly. The fire cast my shadow on the wall, long and thin, a lonely silhouette.
The door finally opened.
Kaelen entered, bringing the chill of the night with him. He took off the black leather armor that symbolized his power, tossing it aside and revealing the sweat-soaked tunic underneath. In that moment, he no longer looked like the high and mighty Alpha, but just a tired man.
He paused when he saw I was still awake, and his tense shoulders seemed to relax for a moment.
"Why are you still up?"
"Waiting for you."
He walked to the chair opposite me and sat, pouring himself a glass of cold water and downing it in one gulp.
"Is it decided?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, looking at the dancing flames, his voice hoarse. "We leave at first light."
He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "At the meeting, my uncle proposed that you must stay."
"The reason?"
"He said that as the 'blood pact offering' from the South, your identity is sensitive. To accompany the army would only be seen as a provocative hostage," Kaelen's tone was laced with sarcasm.
The reason was irrefutable, but it was also an invisible net that trapped me here.
"What about you?" I asked, looking at him. "What about the full moon?"
"Morgana gave me this," he said, taking a crystal vial from his coat. It contained a faintly glowing silver liquid. "A 'sedative' made from your blood."
He placed the vial on the table and looked me in the eye, enunciating each word. "Aila, this is a ploy to lure the tiger from the mountain."
My heart tightened.
"But I have to go," he continued, his voice filled with an unquestionable resolve. "While I'm gone, stay here. Don't trust anyone, especially… my uncle."
He stood and walked over to me.
"When I come back," he said, making a promise, "I will tell you everything. About Willow, about the locked room, about our mother."
He gave me a long, deep look and pressed something cold into my hand—the key to his personal chambers.
"If you're in danger, hide in there," his voice was hoarse. "That… is the only safe place. Take care of yourself. Wait for me to come back."
I clutched the cold key, for the first time, keenly aware that this seemingly peaceful castle was, in fact, a place of treacherous, swirling undercurrents.
I couldn't sleep that night. I couldn't just sit and wait.
From my personal belongings, I retrieved the "Moon Shadow's Sting" dagger, which I had hidden in the very bottom. In the moonlight, the "Moon Shadow's Sting" glowed with a cold, deadly light.
I carefully strapped it, sheath and all, to the inside of my calf, perfectly concealing it with the hem of my long skirt.
The next morning, the horns of Winterfang shattered the dawn's silence.
The army assembled before the castle. Kaelen, in full battle gear, was once again the cold Alpha. Rosalind, as his accompanying officer, rode a fiery red warhorse, proudly at his side.
I stood on the high castle walls, watching the river of steel slowly move out, towards the southern horizon.
Just before he passed through the city gates, Kaelen seemed to sense something and looked back in my direction. The distance was too great for me to see his expression, only the deep shadow under his helmet.
I clutched the cold key in my hand, a sense of foreboding filling my heart.
I knew that with Kaelen gone, I had lost my only protection in this castle.
A great storm was coming.
On the same afternoon that Kaelen's army disappeared over the horizon, a dust-covered party returned to the castle from another forest path.
At its head was Liam, who had just completed his reconnaissance mission.
The members of his team were all wounded, clearly having been through a fierce battle. But Drake was nowhere to be seen.
Liam looked at the empty training grounds and the unnervingly oppressive atmosphere in the castle and immediately knew something was wrong.
He didn't know that he had returned just in time.