With her face lighted by candles and her eyes sparkling like broken emeralds, Lilith stood in front of the council room. She spoke quietly. Too quiet.
"She is unable to conceive."
Shocks. Growls. The crowd moved.
A smooth blade was Lilith's smile. If I weren't sure, I wouldn't say it. I have proof—I found it myself. The Silvermane healer's files hold a paper. In the womb, magic twisted her womb. Blood cursed. She cannot have any children.
Like a stone thrown into still water, she let the paper fall onto the middle table.
Jude's entire body stiffened as he stood close to the council pit's edge. Behind his gaze, his wolf growled and paced. He stayed silent despite his mouth locking. Not quite yet.
Elias scowled as he picked up the paper. "This sigil is official." Silvermane Records.
Lilith took a step forward, faking pain as she clutched her chest. We've accepted her. Despite the pressure, they tolerated her presence. But to hide this?
The crowd roared.
"No heir Alpha," someone growled. "No bloodline from Luna."
Another point was, "She's corrupted the bond." "Deception!"
Jude's hand twitched beside his. "She never knew," he remarked in a low, rough voice.
Lilith had a cyanide-and-sugar smile. "She was never intended to be Luna, even though she might not have realized it."
There was quiet.
And the following set of words was final.
With a voice as cold as ice, the elder said, "Brand her."
Shocks. Let's toast.
With fake sadness, Lilith bent her head.
It was uttered.
Branding is the punishment for a partner who isn't worthy of the title. The exile's mark. Shameful.
Of being turned away.
The wind cut like a knife through the gathering crowd, making the patio cold to the touch.
In the middle was a pit with strong flashing flames. Inside was the iron branding rod, whose tip glowed red, hellfire in shape.
With her hands linked in front of her and a cut on her cheek from being pulled here, Natasha stood in the circle. But her eyes were unyielding. Burning, bright, green.
Through the firelight, she caught sight of Jude.
Every part of his body was at war as he stood at the dais, his mouth clenched, his eyes darkened.
She said, "You don't believe this," loud enough for him to hear.
He didn't reply.
"It's a lie, you know that. " Nothing, though. "Jude. "
Like thunder, his name shattered from her mouth.
He shut his eyes. Only once. A flash of weakness. Then they were opened again, sharp, cold, and blue.
"Belief is not the issue," he stated.
"It is," she choked. "You touched me as though I were already yours, ran with me in the moonlight, and looked me in the eyes—"
"And you're not now."
The words were sharp as knives.
She took a step forward. Say it. Let's say you think I am not fertile. Let's say I fooled you. Don't lie to me, but to them.
Jude's hands were at his sides in fists.
Lilith, behind him, stared with a quiet, shuddering smile. Her features slithered with success.
Jude got the iron from the elder.
Heat rose from the metal like breath as he looked at it.
"You have the option to decline," Natasha said. "You can defend me."
However, he turned. Took the brand.
And moved in her direction.
The crowd yelled in agreement.
Even when the tears left her eyes, Natasha stayed upright.
She didn't flinch.
Jude, however, did.
He stopped directly before her. A few inches away. The metal in his hand was glowing.
His lungs filled with her perfume. Stormlight and daisies. He thrashed against the order, his wolf roaring and rattling in his breast.
Now she spoke softly. Just for him.
"Please."
He lifted the iron.
Then stopped.
His whole body shook.
Then— He touched her skin with it.
Natasha's throat made a sound that wasn't human.
It was primordial.
A cry that froze hearts, made even the bravest soldiers quiver, and tore through the throng like a curse.
The metal burned into her shoulder, causing the skin to sizzle and hiss. The courtyard was filled with the smell of burnt flesh. Her golden skin was burned red-hot by the mark, which was the traitor's spiral.
She fell to the ground.
Jude then let go of the iron.
His hands shook. He was having a problem moving.
The sound. The aroma. Her pain.
Now his inner wolf was tearing at him, wanting payback, demanding that every last wolf who had shouted for her branding be killed.
He twitched his fingers. Curled on the stone, shaking, his eyes shot to her.
Through pieces of blood-stained hair, she looked up at him.
Not with hatred.
Horrified.
She rasped, "You allowed them to do this to me."
Jude's mouth opened, but nothing came out. as he had no reason.
Just quiet.
Just ash.
Night quickly fell, drowning the sky in darkness.
Now there was no one in the backyard. Not a guard. No board. Not a pack.
Only her.
Where they had left Natasha, she lay. Shivering, abandoned, branded.
Her wolf was quiet now.
With each beating and breath, the wound burned.
Then boots.
Some stirring in the shadows.
With her body resisting and her eyes spinning, she tried to sit up.
She was lifted by strong arms.
"Simple, wild one," a voice whispered. "I've got you."
Gareth.
He smelled of secrets, smoke, and pine. In the darkness, his eyes shone green.
"You," she said in a whisper.
He gave a nod. "Me."
She fought feebly. "Why...?"
Like a storm considering a flame, he looked down upon her.
"Because you were never deserved by them."
He turned and disappeared into the trees with her in his arms without saying another word.
The Evergreen fire was still burning behind them.
And an Alpha sobbed into Jude's hands while he was alone and heartbroken in his rooms.
The smell of her skin was still on his hands.
And they would always remember.