Lord Fenris
When Thalen arrived, the smell of rain had barely subsided.
He entered the war room without a sound, his cloak wet, and turned down the heat. The manner in which Fenris's fingers paused over the edge of a parchment revealed his attentiveness, even if he kept his gaze fixed on the maps.
"Well?" asked Fenris.
"I followed your instructions," Thalen said as he moved. "She delivered the linens." In the inner gallery, I waited out the storm.
There was a break.
"She was not by herself."
The crimson in Fenris's eyes flickered like candlelight as he raised his gaze. "Who?"
"Kaelen."
The name turned sour in the air.
Fenris pulled himself up slowly. "Did he make contact with her?"
"No." He did, however, make a threat. Calmly. I only saw the very end of it.
For a moment, Fenris remained silent.
With deliberate accuracy, he then rolled the map back into a tight roll and put it aside.
"She didn't report it," he said softly.
"No, sir," Thalen replied, blinking.
"No way. Kaelen's influence in court is not lost on her. She is aware of the significance of pronouncing his name aloud. "She's beginning to understand fear," Fenris stated from a distance, sounding menacing. And how to utilize it."
Thalen paused. "My lord, you gave her a name. There is significance to that.
"I know exactly what it means," Fenris stated.
He turned to the massive windows, where rain was still hissing behind the glass. "Keep an eye on Kaelen. And double the watch on the East Wing."
"Do you think she's discovered something?"
Fenris remained silent. However, he became more focused.
He had observed the change in her. Not force. Not trust. But a dangerous kind of awareness—silent, cautious, unassuming. The sort that silently buried daggers and picked up information that nobody meant to disclose.
Sayori was the name he gave her, believing her gentleness would keep her steady.
However, he now questioned if it had merely made her invisible enough to be helpful.
Furthermore, it was underestimated to a dangerous degree.
---
Sayori
She had no intention of going back to the East Wing that evening.
But she was drawn by something.
Not inquisitiveness. Not rebellion.
It was the same page she had seen earlier. The letter behind the guest bed. The writing was unique—no ink she had ever seen, no language she could understand. When she blinked, it barely sparkled. As if it wasn't totally at home in this world.
Now there was no one in the chamber.
Her bare feet made no sound as she entered, and the candlelight flickered low. Her earlier folded linens remained untouched.
Behind the bedframe, she fell to her knees.
And there it was. Remains. A stack of parchment. But more now—a stack of well organized letters.
She read the headers gradually.
One of them was sealed with the mark of the Eastern Tribunal, a council of mages that has long been considered neutral in the politics of werewolves.
The other had an odd symbol that she had observed carved on one of Kaelen's rings.
However, the third one gave her the chills.
A picture. The castle's rough floor plan, highlighting the Alpha's private wing in dark, rust-colored ink.
There was no moniker. There was no date. However, in Common language, the following sentence was written underneath it:
"Silver root, duskfall hour."
Sayori still didn't get it.
However, it gave off an impression of betrayal.
After memorizing the lines, she carefully put the map back. Following that, she fled the chamber with bated breath.
At the stairwell, a voice greeted her.
"For someone without magic, you move far too silently."
She was stunned.
Kaelen was standing directly at the corner of the hallway. This time, there's no satire. Simply put, it's cold computation.
"How long do you believe the Alpha will keep you safe?" he asked.
Sayori remained silent.
Made no effort.
However, she had tucked a stolen piece of parchment into the corner of her apron, and her fingers grazed it. Simply just in case.
Allow him to speculate about what she had seen.
Let him be afraid of her silence.
Because someone in a position of power had cause to, for the first time in her life.