Whispers.
That was all the room had been filled with since the start of the pack meeting, low, crawling whispers, skittering like insects beneath the surface of every word, every gesture. I’d stood at the head of the long stone table, reading over the weekly reports, issuing commands, reminding everyone who I was.
But the murmurs never stopped.
Even my Beta kept darting glances my way, lips twitching like he was biting back a smirk.
“The northern patrol reported three rogue sightings near the border,” I said, voice clipped.
Silence.
Then Councilor Hadrek cleared his throat. “And what does the Lycan Princess suggest we do about that?”
My gaze snapped to him.
He didn’t flinch.
Neither did the dozen other wolves in the chamber who stared at me with thinly veiled amusement.
There it was again.
Princess.
Not Elene. Not me.
Sylra.
Someone laughed under their breath. I slammed my palm on the table, silencing the room.
“Enough,” I growled. “This is a Blackmaw meeting, not a gossip pit.”
They all went quiet, but the damage was done.
The moment the meeting ended, I didn’t stay for the closing formalities. I shoved the chair back and stalked out through the corridor, boots echoing off the stone.
I knew who started this.
Elene was in the west wing’s private dining hall, legs elegantly crossed as she speared grapes from a gold-rimmed plate and popped them into her mouth like she didn’t have a care in the world.
I slammed the door shut behind me.
She didn’t even blink.
“Elene.”
She glanced up, eyes lazy. “Rovan.”
“Did you tell them?”
She arched a brow. “Tell who what?”
“The pack,” I snapped. “About Sylra. About the Lycan King’s court. About what we saw.”
Her lips parted in a small, amused smile. “Is that what this is about?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I hissed, stepping closer. “You and I were the only ones who saw her in that court. The only ones who heard the King claim her as his daughter. And now half the pack is whispering about a royal Luna who never was.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Elene—”
“I didn’t,” she repeated, rising to her feet now, slow and deliberate. “If people are whispering, maybe it’s because your face told the entire story. Maybe you weren’t as composed as you think.”
I shook my head. “No. This has you written all over it. You were humiliated, and you decided to spin it first before anyone could ask questions.”
She scoffed. “Oh, you think this is about me feeling humiliated?”
“You haven’t stopped sulking since we left Ebonhold!”
“I haven’t stopped sulking?” she laughed, a bitter sound. “Rovan, you’ve barely looked at me since we left the throne room. Your thoughts are still with her.”
“Don’t twist this.”
“Then stop pretending!” she shouted, suddenly fierce. “Why are you so obsessed with her?”
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
I took a step back, stunned.
My mouth opened but no sound came out.
Her expression twisted. “Oh. There it is.”
“Elene—”
The door creaked again, and my mother stepped in, voice as sweet as poisoned wine.
“Well, this sounds delightful,” she said. “Who’s obsessed with who?”
Elene spun to face her. “Ask your son. He thinks I’ve been spreading rumors because he can’t stop obsessing over his ex-mate.”
I stared at the floor, rage and shame tightening around my throat like a noose.
Lady Vela blinked. “Ex-mate?”
“She was at the Lycan palace,” Elene said. “Wearing the royal crest. The King himself claimed her. Said she’s his daughter.”
The room went still and my mother froze.
