Chapter 3 The Sliverfang Envoy

Chapter 3: The Silver fang Envoy

Morning came grey and cold. Sera had slept poorly, if she had slept at all. She dressed before the servants arrived, pulling on a plain tunic and trousers, her mother's ring warm against her chest. She needed to move. To think. The shrine waited for tonight, but the day stretched long and dangerous ahead.

She found Kael in the training yard.

He was not what she expected. The Silverfang envoy stood alone at the edge of the sparring ring, barefoot despite the frost, a wooden sword loose in his grip. He was tall, lean, with shoulders built for war and a face that gave nothing away. His hair was dark, cut short. A thin scar ran from his brow to his cheekbone, old and faded. He watched two guards spar without expression, still and patient as a hunter.

Sera had heard the whispers. Prince Kael of the Silverfang Pack-second son, the spare heir. He had been sent to Xiayoa to observe, to report, to measure her weakness for his father's council. He was not her suitor. He was her judge.

She stepped into the ring.

"You're the envoy," she said.

Kael turned. His eyes were pale grey, sharp as winter. He did not bow. "Princess."

"You didn't come to the throne room yesterday."

"No."

"Why?"

He considered the question. "I wanted to see you before the court shaped my opinion. Courts lie. Titles lie. I prefer to judge for myself."

Sera almost smiled. "And what do you see?"

Kael studied her. Not her clothes. Not her crown-she wore none. He looked at her stance, her hands, the way she held her shoulders. "Someone who has been trained to fight but told not to. Someone who is angry but keeps it leashed. Someone-" He paused. "-who is afraid of something and pretending not to be."

The words landed like a slap. Sera kept her face still. "That's a lot to read from a stance."

"I'm observant."

"Then observe this." She picked up a wooden sword from the rack and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed. "Spar with me."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Is that wise?"

"I don't care if it's wise."

A small crowd gathered. Guards, servants, a few nobles passing through the yard. Sera heard someone whisper her name. She ignored them. She raised her sword and circled.

Kael did not attack. He moved with her, matching her steps, reading her rhythm. She lunged. He parried. She spun, drove forward, pressed him hard-but he gave ground smoothly, never off balance. His style was different from hers. Patient. Economical. Every movement had a purpose.

"You're holding back," she said, breathing hard.

"So are you."

She attacked again, faster. He blocked, sidestepped, tapped her wrist with the flat of his blade-a warning. She growled. The sound surprised her. It was low and rough, more wolf than woman.

Kael heard it. His eyes flickered. "There," he said quietly. "That's what I came to see."

Sera froze. Her grip tightened on the sword.

"Your wolf is close to the surface," Kael said. "Closer than you think. You've been suppressing it for years. That's why the shift hasn't come. You're not broken, Princess. You're holding a door shut with your bare hands."

"Get out of my yard."

He lowered his sword. "As you wish." He turned to go, then paused. "One more thing. Darius is not the real danger. The council wants you married, yes. But someone on that council wants you dead. I don't know who yet. But I will."

He walked away. The crowd parted for him. Sera stood alone in the ring, chest heaving, sword still raised.

She hated that he was right.

---

She spent the rest of the day buried in the royal archive. The old books smelled of dust and leather. She searched for anything about half-blood shifts, about the blood moon prophecy, about her mother's discovery in the temple ruins. Hours passed. Her eyes burned. And then she found it.

A journal. Not old-recent. Her mother's handwriting.

Sera's hands trembled as she opened it. The pages were worn from rereading, the ink smudged in places by tears. Her mother had written in the common tongue, not the old one. She had wanted to be understood.

"I am afraid for my daughter. The priestess says she will be born under a waning moon, which means her wolf will sleep longer than most. She will not shift as a child. She may not shift at all until her life is in danger. But when she does-the priestess says-her wolf will be unlike any other. Not pure. Not weak. Something new."

Sera turned the page.

"Alaric does not believe in prophecies. But I do. I have seen the temple ruins. I have read the walls. There was a queen once-a half-blood like our daughter-who ended a war and united the packs for a hundred years. And there was another who burned the world. The difference, the walls said, was love. Not romantic love. Not the love of a man. The love of a people. A queen who loves her kingdom more than her crown will save it. A queen who loves her crown more than her kingdom will destroy it."

Sera closed the journal. Her throat was tight. Her mother had believed in her. Had seen something in her before she was even born.

But her mother was dead. And belief was not enough.

She tucked the journal into her coat and left the archive. Outside, the sun was setting. The sky bled orange and pink. Tonight was the dark moon. Tonight she would meet the priestess.

Tonight she would try to shift.

She returned to her chambers, changed into simple clothes, and waited for full dark. When the last light left the sky, she slipped out through a servant's passage, past the guards, past the east wall, into the forest beyond.

The old shrine stood in a clearing, half-buried in moss and snow. It was a ring of standing stones, each carved with the symbols of the old tongue. In the center, a single altar of black stone.

Someone was already there.

A woman in a grey cloak stood before the altar, her back to Sera. She was tall, silver-haired, and she did not turn when Sera approached.

"You came," the priestess said.

"You told me to."

"I told you to be careful." The priestess turned. Her eyes were milky white, blind-but Sera knew she saw more than anyone. "Someone followed you."

Sera's hand went to the knife at her belt. "Who?"

The priestess smiled. "Not an enemy. Not yet." She gestured to the trees. "You can come out, wolf. She knows you're there."

A shadow moved. Kael stepped into the clearing, hands raised, palms open. "I mean no harm."

"You followed me," Sera said, fury rising.

"I followed the priestess. I've been watching her for three days. I told you-someone wants you dead. I intend to find out who." He looked at the altar. "And I think the answer is here."

The priestess laughed softly. "Clever boy. Yes. The answer is here. But the answer is not a name. It is a truth." She turned to Sera. "The wolf inside you is not sleeping, child. It is waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to stop being afraid of it."

The priestess reached out and took Sera's hand. Her grip was cold and strong. "Tonight, the moon is dark. There is no pull, no light, no guidance. This is the night you choose. Not the moon. Not the prophecy. You."

She led Sera to the altar. "Lie down. Close your eyes. And when the wolf comes, do not fight it. Do not command it. Just-let it be."

Sera lay back on the cold stone. The sky above was black. No stars. No moon. Just emptiness.

Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, watching. The priestess began to chant in the old tongue.

Sera closed her eyes.

At first, nothing happened. Just the cold, the wind, the sound of her own heartbeat. Then-slowly-something stirred. Not a pulse this time. Not a prickle. A presence. Deep inside her. Opening its eyes.

Hello, it seemed to say. I've been waiting.

Sera's breath caught. Her fingers curled. Her skin burned.

And then the pain began.