Jamie's POV
The morning sun broke across Furstone like the blade of a sword—sharp, golden, and unforgiving in its clarity.
I stood beside Andrew at the gates of the central courtyard, the same place where not long ago, our people had mourned his father beneath the Iron Tree. The grief still lingered in the air like smoke that refused to lift, but today… today felt different. Like something was shifting. The weight of war, yes, but also something more—resolve.
Laurette stood to Andrew's left, arms crossed over her chest, her posture commanding. Her dark braids were coiled and knotted at the back of her head like a crown. If the grief still lived within her, it had buried itself beneath layers of steel. She was every bit the daughter of an Alpha—and today, she looked every inch the queen her pack saw her to be.
A hush fell over the courtyard.
Then came the sound—a slow, rhythmic tremor in the earth. Boots. Hooves. War.
The first of the Kaelmere warriors emerged through the northern treeline in formation, their armor glinting with the light of the rising sun. They moved like a living current—efficient, dangerous, focused. Even from this distance, I could feel the intensity in the air change, as if Furstone itself was holding its breath.
At the front of their ranks strode a woman—tall, broad-shouldered, with a warcloak draped over her left arm and the insignia of a phoenix etched into her breastplate. Her black hair was braided down her back, streaked with silver at the temples.
When she reached us, she didn't bow.
She offered a firm nod. "Alpha Andrew," she said, voice clear and unwavering. "General Nyra of Kaelmere. We come as summoned."
Andrew extended a hand, chin high. "You honor us with your presence, General Nyra. And your strength is welcome here more than you know."
Nyra took his hand briefly, then turned her eyes to me.
"And this," she said, voice dropping just enough to carry a quieter weight, "must be the Luna."
The way she said it—Luna—wasn't just respectful. It was cautious. As if she were still deciding what kind of Luna I was going to be.
"I'm honored, General Nyra," I said with a dip of my head, my voice calm. Measured. "Thank you for coming. We fight for more than just Furstone. We fight for the balance of the territories."
Something unreadable flickered across her face. A nod. Then she moved aside as her warriors assembled behind her.
That was when Laurette stepped forward, eyes alight with warmth beneath her tough exterior. "It's good to see you again, old friend."
Nyra's posture softened—only slightly—but it was there. "And you, Laurette. I see Furstone hasn't dulled your fire."
"It's sharpened it," Laurette said, a flash of teeth behind her smirk.
They clasped arms. Something solid and unshaken passed between them—years of camaraderie forged on the battlefield and in the margins of strategy tables.
We guided the Kaelmere contingent into the inner courtyard. Along the way, I noticed how our warriors watched them. Some with awe, others with veiled suspicion. I couldn't blame them. Outsiders always caused friction, especially now when trust was currency.
By midday, the tension was simmering beneath the surface.
I made my way to the training grounds where some of the newcomers had begun to spar with Furstone's finest. What began as a friendly demonstration turned quickly.
Metal clanged.
Grunts turned to snarls.
A Kaelmere soldier lunged forward too hard, knocking one of our men to the ground with the flat of his blade. The Furstone warrior sprang back up, wild-eyed, and charged.
I pushed through the crowd.
"Enough!" I barked.
Both men froze mid-swing.
I stepped between them, my energy crackling just beneath the skin. "We are allies, not adversaries. Your enemies wear the crest of blood and madness. Unless one of you has grown fangs and treachery behind my back, then stand down."
Silence.
The crowd parted slowly.
The two warriors lowered their weapons, both still seething, but subdued.
I turned and raised my voice for all to hear. "We face a war unlike anything we've known. You do not have to like one another. But you will respect the flag under which we fight. Furstone stands united. And it will not crumble from within. Not while I draw breath."
There was a pause. Then murmurs. Nods. And a few reluctant salutes.
Nyra stepped forward from the outer ring of the gathering. She regarded me for a long moment, her head tilted slightly.
"You handle tension well," she said. "Respect is earned—yours was commanded."
I offered her a small smile. "I've learned there's no time for hesitation when lives depend on it."
"Wise words," she said. "I'll remember that."
By twilight, the Kaelmere warriors had been assigned quarters in the south barracks, and a quiet lull had settled over the stronghold. Andrew had disappeared into another meeting with Elder Throne and the rest of the high council.
I found myself walking alone near the Iron Tree, where the last rays of sun turned its bark almost silver.
"Your Grace."
I turned—Philip, one of the younger patrol leaders, bowed low. I'd grown fond of him. Loyal, quick-witted, and fiercely protective of the younger pups.
"Philip," I said. "At ease. What's the report?"
"The warriors are settled," he said. "No disturbances. But…" he hesitated.
"But?"
"I haven't seen Caroline all day. Not at the morning roll call, not at the training fields."
I stiffened slightly. "And you're sure?"
"Yes, sir. I've checked twice. No word from anyone."
I nodded slowly, the weight in my chest settling again. "Keep an eye out for her. Quietly. And report only to me."
"Yes, Luna."
As he walked away, the unease twisted deeper into my bones. Caroline had been slipping. Nothing overt. Nothing direct. But enough for the alarm bells to hum like background music, I could no longer ignore them.
I looked back toward the fading silhouette of Kaelmere's banners in the distance.
Tomorrow, we'd speak to the warriors officially.
But tonight… I would speak to Andrew.
And maybe—just maybe-I-I—I'd admit what I was starting to fear.
Something inside our walls… was rotting.
And it wasn't just doubt anymore.
It was a betrayal.
*****
Jamie's POV
I found Andrew exactly where I thought he'd be—alone on the western balcony overlooking the training grounds, sleeves rolled up, the last of the light carving golden lines along his jaw.
He didn't hear me come in, not until I closed the distance and slid my arms around his waist from behind. His body relaxed into mine immediately, like he'd been holding his breath until that moment.
"You're tense," I murmured against his back.
"You've been watching me that closely, have you?"
"Always."
He turned, eyes softening the second they landed on me. "I thought you'd be with the warriors."
"I was." I hesitated, resting my hands against his chest. "There's something off, Andy. I can feel it. Caroline—she's been… distant. Disconnected. She missed roll call. Again. And Philip said—"
"Jamie," he interrupted gently, thumb brushing my cheek. "It's Caroline."
"I know who she is. That's exactly why it worries me."
He held my gaze for a moment, searching, then exhaled and shook his head. "She wouldn't betray us. She's like family."
"Sometimes betrayal starts there."
Silence stretched between us.
And then—Andrew leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of my neck, breathing in deep.
Gods.
That.
My heart stuttered.
"I missed you," I whispered.
He hummed against my skin. "I missed you more, Moonlight."
Moonlight.
The name he'd started using in whispers. In the dark. When it was just us.
And every time he said it, it did something to me. Softened edges, I didn't even know I was sharpening.
"I was going to wait till after the war," he said quietly, "but after today... I don't think I want to wait anymore. I want to take you somewhere. Just us."
I smiled into his shoulder. "We'll find the time."
We had to.
But as his hands slid down my back and my fingers tangled in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, a knock came at the door.
Then another.
He groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."
"We're Lunas, remember? No rest for the royalty."
He pressed one last kiss against my temple, slow and lingering, before stepping back and adjusting his tunic.
"Later," he promised.
"Later," I echoed, and when he looked back at me with that crooked grin, I let myself believe it.
But beneath it all…
That seed of doubt was still there.
And it was growing roots.