Chapter 2

The Council Chamber is a vast circular hall built of rough unpolished dark obsidian stone.

Torches flicker on the walls, casting long cold shadows across the faces of the honored Elders seated in assembly.

I stand in the very center of the great hall, my hands clasped tight before me.

“You delayed critical instructions for forty full seconds. You gravely violated tactical protocol and nearly brought the whole telepathic link network down,” an elderly noble states in a frigid accusatory voice. “In the Shadow-Shrouded Mist, forty seconds means life or death. Were you paralyzed by fear, Seer-Guide?”

They are setting a trap, forcing me to confess incompetence.

“I was not paralyzed with fear,” I answer clearly and calmly.

“During those forty seconds, I used aura-sensing to map the hidden silver-net traps encircling Squad 5127 and calculated the single viable escape route.”

“Empty words with no proof,” another noble sneers.

“I request access to the spire’s memory crystal,” I meet their sharp icy gazes. “The crystal records every surge of magic power and every order transmitted. It will prove my innocence.”

The Head Elder sighs. “Retrieving the crystal takes time. Until then, your suspension remains in force.”

I give a small nod and turn to exit the heavy oak doors.

Elder Thorne waits for me in the dim corridor, deep worry etched into his wrinkled face.

“Seraphina, you need not endure this injustice,” Thorne whispers. “Tell them you are his fated mate. Under clan law, the Alpha’s mate is granted special protection against these baseless accusations.”

I close my eyes and remember the day Kael and I first met.

The moment my soul recognized its mate, overwhelming waves crashed over me.

The first thing I smelled was his scent — deep forest mixed with the coming storm, unique and intoxicating.

My pulse spiraled wild. My blood boiled hot. Unstoppable heat surged through my body.

For the first time my wandering soul belonged somewhere. I felt whole, complete.

The inner-female wolf in my consciousness howled madly: *He is mine!*

When his fingertips brushed mine by chance, an electric tingle shot up my spine, bringing pure shivering euphoria.

But Kael rejected the mate-bond.

He refused to complete the marking ritual. He never sank his fangs into the nape of my neck to claim me.

“No,” I open my eyes and say to Thorne. “I will be judged on my merit as a spire warrior. I will not grovel for protection behind a mate-bond he casts aside like trash.”

I leave the Council building and walk back to the manor. The metallic taste of blood rises again in my throat.

I push open the heavy front door. The sharp stench of cheap malt ale and roasted meat washes over me. The banquet hall swarms with people, loud and chaotic.

Kael holds a victory feast for his narrow escape from death.

Warriors of the Night-Rider Cavalry slam tankards down on long oak tables. Rough boisterous laughter echoes under the vaulted ceiling.

Dressed in a stunning crimson gown, Elara glides among the guests pouring wine, drinking in their drunken compliments. She plays the part of a perfect Luna-consort flawlessly.

I hope to slip quietly across the hall unseen, but Kael’s booming voice stops me.

“I give you my word,” Kael lifts his drinking horn and boasts to his second-in-command, “that careless delayed Guide will never be permitted to connect to our mental network again!”

The warriors answer with wolfish howls of agreement.

Several clansmen spot me standing by the staircase.

“Seraphina, where were you last night?” one asks casually.

Elara giggles and leans against Kael’s arm.

“Oh, you all know Seraphina,” Elara’s voice carries across the hall. “Her job is simply to sit comfortably high up in the spire living off the clan’s support. She needs no real skill.”

Kael smirks and nods in agreement. “For someone who cannot bear the sight of blood, it is certainly a soft safe post.”

My hands curl into tight fists.

Two years ago I survived cruel torturous trials to earn my rank as a Seer-Guide.

Again and again I pushed my mental power past breaking point until my nose bled and my vision blurred.

When I at last received my honor medal, Kael would not even glance at it.

Back then, he had been out in the woods hunting for Elara’s lost pet rabbit.

I turn and hurry up the stairs. I can bear to watch no more.

Late that night after all guests depart, I step out onto the dim guest-chamber balcony for fresh air.

Voices drift up from the garden below.

It is Kael and Elara.

“Kael, why do you still keep her around?” Elara whines petulantly. “She is plain and dull.”

“She is useful,” Kael replies in a lazy low tone. “She gives off an Omega-like calming aura. It is soothing to come home to. And she never causes trouble. Do not be jealous, Elara. I hold no romantic mate-love for her whatsoever.”

His words hammer into me harder than any physical blow.

The sacred bond bestowed by the Moon Goddess means nothing to him — merely a nice-smelling incense he can take or leave.

I retreat inside my room. My chest feels hollow and desolate.

Close to midnight I go downstairs to the study, hoping a book will quiet my racing thoughts.

The study door stands ajar.

Kael lies asleep across the great oak desk, his head resting on his folded arms.

I step softly inside, meaning only to fetch a book from the shelf, when my eyes catch sight of a parchment sheet on the desktop.

The title reads: *Report on Grave Peril Caused by Tactical Delay*.

My breath catches. I lean closer.

It is an official military indictment. It accuses the spire Seer-Guide of gross insubordination. It deliberately exaggerates enemy strength, claiming her hesitation put the warriors at the mercy of three times their number of rebel wolves. It demands her permanent banishment from all magic-net access.

Tucked to one corner of the report sits a delicate handwritten note.

I recognize Elara’s neat elegant script at once:

> > Kael, tell the Council the rebel wolves outnumbered you three-fold. Paint this delay as deadly. We must make certain she is exiled and destroyed forever.

I stare rigidly at the note. Repressed tears blur my sight.

I bit my own tongue raw to stay focused.

I fought against time through those forty seconds to disable the fatal silver-net traps and save his entire squad.

Now he twists those exact same forty seconds into a web of lies to hurl me into utter ruin.