Chapter 4: Whispers behind Palace Walls

“So tell me again, darling,” Lady Sylra said, her tone soft as silk and sharp as shears, “what were his last words before he opened his eyes?”

Eirene fluttered her lashes. “He said—‘You saved me. I saw your eyes in the storm.’”

Sylra’s lips curved. “How poetic.”

Around them, the palace salon buzzed with nobles sipping spiced tea and speculating about the miracle that spared Frostfang’s heir. But Sylra wasn’t interested in gossip. Her eyes scanned Eirene like a hawk watching a hare.

“And these proverbs you claim to know,” Sylra added smoothly, “remind me—how does the old northern one go? ‘The moon marks—’?”

Eirene stiffened just slightly. “Ah. It’s… ‘The moon marks the brave with a shadow.’”

Sylra’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “How curious. The correct line is, ‘The moon marks the hunted with a howl.’”

Eirene paled.

But then the salon door opened.

Theo entered in full training gear, sweat clinging to his brow. He looked at Eirene, then at Sylra.