The test results hadn’t come back yet. Not officially. Not that it mattered—Leon had already ordered all their meals to be tasted first, and no plate reached Celine without his scent marking the rim.
Still, no one spoke about it aloud. They didn’t need to.
The palace felt colder now.
Even wrapped in layers of silk, with firelight flickering in every polished corner, Celine couldn’t shake the chill that had settled under her skin. The walls were too smooth. The hallways too quiet. Even the courtiers’ smiles had begun to look like masks that had been worn too long.
Everyone was watching.
Everyone was waiting.
Even now, alone in their rooms, Celine found herself watching the door. Listening for sounds that didn’t belong. Her wolf hadn’t growled since—but Lyra was still there, quiet and alert in the back of her mind.
And Celine?
She didn’t know if she was being paranoid… or finally seeing clearly.
She sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the floor, fingers curled in her lap.
“Maybe I imagined it,” she murmured.
Leon looked up from across the room, where he was pulling on his shirt. “You didn’t.”
“I’ve been on edge for weeks. The wedding. The prophecy. The court. The King. Luke. Lilith.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Maybe I’m just unraveling.”
Leon crossed the room in three strides and knelt before her, taking her hands.
“You’ve never been sharper,” he said. “This place twists your instincts. Makes you question what you know is real.”
Celine nodded slowly, her throat tight. “I miss the pack.”
Leon’s hand slid up to cup her cheek.
“I know.”
“The air was clean there,” she whispered. “The people smiled and meant it. Lucy would burst into my room every morning with horrible tea and worse fashion advice. I didn’t have to wonder if every bite of food was a test.”
Leon pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ll go back. I promise.”
Celine closed her eyes.
But her wolf didn’t sleep.