Chapter 4

Tonight, I rebel for the first time.

Defying my Alpha mate’s authority is no easy ordeal, nor is crossing the pack’s borders without permission to meet the man once declared a traitor and cast out. But I’ve made my choice, and I won’t turn back now.

The forest presses in close at night, threatening to suffocate me, its branches clawing at the moon as if to snuff out its light entirely. I move with careful steps, the damp earth soft beneath my boots, my breath ghosting in the icy air. Every step forward is betrayal, yet every step is also survival.

No one will know that I’m gone, and I’m sure no one will care.

That’s the only relief I carry.

Nyx stirs in me, restless, urging me on. ‘He’s right there,’ she says, her voice still faint, barely reaching me. ‘Keep going.’

The border clearing waits, mist curling silver around the stones. And he’s already there.

Rowan Briar.

He’s taller than the boy I remember, heavy and broad-shouldered now. His dark hair falls in a shaggy cut, untamed, brushing his jaw and neck. His eyes—once a soft green now bear a sharp edge. They catch the light like wet moss after rain. The years have carved lines into him, but the way he looks at me is the same. With devotion and care. As if no time has passed.

I feel weak under his gaze but it doesn’t scare me. I could collapse right here and I know he’d hold me in his arms and keep me safe.

“You came,” he says, his voice hard and deep. It takes me by surprise. I still remember how gentle he was, not just with his words, but also his manners.

“I had no choice,” I say, recovering, trying not to sound too desperate.

His gaze lingers on me too long, like he’s reliving all our memories, prolonging the silence between us. Maybe he is studying how much I have changed. I wonder how I look in his eyes now. Back when we were still kids, wolfless and innocent, he would tell me I’m beautiful. Every single day. It came to him effortlessly like that was the most ardent truth.

“Rowan,” I whisper his name, and only then does he blink, escaping his thoughts.

“You reek of it,” he finally claims, his face twisting with disgust.

“Of what?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat.

“Silverdew.” He steps closer. “That’s why your wolf has gone quiet. You’re fading.”

I swallow hard, glancing up at him as he moves even closer. “How do you know all that?”

His lips curve into a sad smile, his sharp eyes softening. “Do you think his father’s sentence could sever what ties us? That the border could stop my heart from following yours?” He closes the distance between us and cups my face in his hands, his thumb stroking my cheek. I shudder, feeling his warm breath fan my face, but I don’t push him away. “The years apart have not taken away what I feel for you, Freya. Written in my heart, in every breath is your name.”

I can’t bear to look at his face, to see the intensity in those eyes. My misery and helplessness reflect in them. I turn away. “You shouldn’t say such things, Rowan. I’m married to Kade,” I mumble, clutching at my chest.

“And he has crowned his mistress the lady of the house,” he points out bitterly.

“How do you—” I begin, then cut myself off. News carries over kingdoms, and he never stopped looking for me. He never stopped loving me. Of course, he knows what has been happening.

His thumb brushes my cheek again, softer this time. “If he does not honour his marriage vows, why do you?”

I shake my head, then take his hands and push them down from my face before stepping back. “I don’t know what to do.”

He looks at me with pain in his eyes at my unspoken rejection. Releasing a slow breath, he straightens. When he speaks, his voice is still gentle, “Let me help you, Freya.”

I nod weakly.

“Someone has been slowly poisoning me. You’re right about that… I didn’t want to believe it. Even when the healer from the pack showed me proof.”

“You should have.” Rowan’s jaw flexes. “There’s only one person who wants you gone.”

I glance at him. “You think it’s Izel.”

“I know it’s Izel.” His voice is certain. “An investigation into a ruckus near Nightfell led me to her. Before she moved to Silvercrest, she trained under a witch. What I’m saying is that—she carries witch blood. She’s able to mask it well which is why no one in your pack has caught the scent, but she is strong enough to bend loyalty, to twist men’s will. You understand that about witch powers, right? Your guards, your servants—why do you think they obey her so easily? Why Kade looks at her and forgets you?”

My lips quiver, but it still does not make full sense. “Witch blood?”

“Yes.” His eyes burn, reflecting the moon. “She’s not just sly. She’s dangerous. Izel doesn’t just want your place, Freya. She wants your end which is why she has been poisoning you.”

I flinch at the brutal honesty in his tone. Why? I wonder. She already has enough power now that she’s lady of the house. My children call her mama. What does she hope to achieve by killing me? Does she think I could sway Kade and make him love me again?

I look back at Rowan and realize it doesn’t matter anymore. I feel the need to ask, so I ask the question. “And what do you want?”

His expression softens, only for a breath. “To see you alive.”

The silence that follows is bittersweet, and painful.

I remember him as a boy, laughing as we raced through the fields, hair wild in the wind, his voice calling me back when I strayed too far. He told me once, in a whisper only I could hear, that he would always love me. That promise cost him everything.

Now he stands here, the Rogue King of Nightfell.

“I can help you,” Rowan says. “Nightfell knows ways to fight poison and glamour. I can give you something to keep your wolf awake. But you’ll need more than that. You’ll need to decide who you are.”

I almost laugh, bitter. “Who I am? I am nothing in that house anymore. Not to Kade. Not to anyone.”

He steps closer, close enough that I see the scar trailing along his jaw, lit by moonlight. His voice drops low. “Not true.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, and my gaze falls to his lips as I hold my breath.

He surprises me by reaching for my neck, and then he pulls down the robe I’m wearing before tugging down the sleeve of my dress, exposing my shoulder blade. I gasp at the action, feeling so afraid that tears fill my eyes until he pulls out something shiny and reflective. A piece of mirror. He holds it and says, “Look.”

He holds my neck with his other hand, rough calluses against my skin. Then his hand moves from my neck before his thumb brushes the centre of my scapula. In the mirror, I see a faint glow, something shaped like a silver crescent etched under my skin.

“What is that?”

Rowan’s voice is filled with awe. “Do you see it?”

“It’s just a scar.”

“No.” His finger brushes once again over the shape, touch featherlight. “It’s a sigil. The mark of a High Luna.”

The words hollow me out. “There hasn’t been a High Luna anywhere on the continent for the last three centuries.”

“But we have one now.” His green eyes blaze. “You bear the proof. Which means your path is larger than Kade’s house. Larger than his crown. You were never meant to rot in his shadow. You’re meant for more.”

The wind rushes through the trees, carrying the scent of pine. “How long have you known? Why tell me now?”

He sighs. “I have known it for a while…. Nightfell holds a lot of truths, a lot of secrets. There are many reasons why wolves are cast out, Freya. I saw the mark on you once when we were young. We were bathing in a stream. And then I saw it again at the cave library in Nightfell after my arrival there. I asked some exiled elders about it, and then I knew what it meant. I should’ve told you earlier, but I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as I figured out that you were being poisoned, I sent my raven.”

“High Luna,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Why me? Why would the Moon Goddess choose someone so weak and incapable of even protecting herself?”

Rowan doesn’t look away. “Only the Moon Goddess knows why.”

My knees nearly give at his words.

Rowan steps back into the mist, shoulders squared. “Think on it, Freya. You must reclaim your strength before Kade decides to sever the bond at the Blood Moon Conclave. He will do it, won’t he? And without your wolf, you know you won’t survive the separation. You have just twenty-nine days.”

“Rowan—” I call, though I don’t know what I mean to say.

But he’s already gone, his shadow swallowed by the forest.

I stand there trembling, clutching my chest, feeling the burn of the mark on my back.

High Luna.

The words echo through me, more dangerous than poison, more impossible than freedom.