Chapter 228
The moment I stepped into the dining hall, I felt it. A cold thread of resistance weaving through the warmth. I caught the looks. I heard the murmurs. They thought I wouldn’t notice.
They clearly didn’t know who I was.
Roman wasn’t with me—deep in strategy talks with Rya and Wyatt—so I walked in alone, chin high, and took my usual seat at the warrior table. Even the roast potatoes couldn’t soften the atmosphere today.
“Luna,” a familiar voice said across from me.
Elder Halrick. All robes and ego. He sat down like he was claiming a throne, a bowl of stew cradled in his hands.
“I hear the training session was... spirited,” he said.
“Successful,” I replied without flinching.
He gave a dry smile. “Some of us worry you’re doing too much too fast.”
“Some of you weren’t worried when we were under attack,” I replied. “Funny how urgency is only inconvenient when it doesn’t suit tradition.”
He stirred his stew. “What you’re proposing... it shifts dynamics. Pulling women from healing and administration? It disrupts the balance.”
“I’m not pulling anyone,” I said. “I’m giving them a choice. If that’s what disrupts you, perhaps the balance was never solid to begin with.”
He didn’t like that.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not afraid to lead with fire.”
I met his stare. “Fire is how you survive the cold.”
He stood slowly, gathering his bowl. “Not every battle is fought with claws, Luna. Some are fought in whispers. You’d be wise to listen.”
Then he walked away.
His meaning was clear. The council wasn’t united. There were snakes in the grass.
But I wasn’t afraid of venom.
By sundown, the courtyard was buzzing with life.
Over fifty women had gathered for the second training session—mothers, students, warriors’ wives, even a few Elders’ daughters. I stood at the center, leather gloves laced, Ella at my side.
“You know they’re watching us,” Ella muttered, eyeing the trees beyond the training ring.
“Good,” I said. “Let them.”
Today was different. I could feel it. Yesterday was curiosity. Today was hunger.
We moved through footwork, form, defensive postures. Some stumbled. Some flourished. All kept going. Even when their muscles trembled or their feet slipped.
“Hold your stance, lower your shoulder—don’t hunch, Mari!” I called, laughing when the seamstress groaned.
“You keep saying that like my back agrees with you!” she wheezed.
Someone snorted.
“Pain is growth,” I said.
“No, pain is betrayal by my thighs!” Mari shot back.
Laughter spread. Even I cracked a smile.
That’s when I noticed her.
A girl I hadn’t seen before. Late teens, maybe twenty. Short, sharp movements. Every punch was precise. Her focus never wavered, even when others stumbled. Her clothes were worn, but her energy screamed discipline.
“Ella,” I murmured. “Who’s that?”
Ella followed my gaze. “That’s Nessa. Quiet. She just transferred here from the eastern ridge. Applied for patrol last season. Denied. Not enough 'experience,' apparently.”
“She’s got more fight in her than half the active warriors.”
“I was thinking the same.”
As the session wrapped, I called for sparring pairs. Nervous glances darted around. A few women hesitated—until Nessa stepped forward.
“I’ll go,” she said.
She picked an opponent twice her size and took her down in less than a minute. Not recklessly. With control. Precision. It was beautiful.
When it ended, applause echoed around the ring. Nessa looked startled by the response, cheeks coloring. She bowed her head slightly and stepped back.
Afterward, as everyone cooled down, I approached her.
“You’ve trained before,” I said.
She nodded. “My mother taught me before she passed. She was a warrior.”
“She’d be proud.”
Nessa glanced up at me. “I want to help. More than just this. If there’s a place for me... I’m ready.”
I smiled. “You just earned it.”
She grinned, then slipped off into the crowd.
Ella approached. “Looks like the future’s showing up early.”
“Let’s hope the rest of the pack is ready for her.”
Later that night, I walked alone toward the armory, wanting to grab extra training gear for tomorrow. The moon was a sliver above the trees, and the air held that quiet stillness—peaceful, but watchful.
As I rounded the corner, I heard a voice.
Low. Male. Hushed.
I slowed.
“…said she’s overstepping. The Luna’s getting too bold. If we let this go on, she’ll be making decisions without the council next.”
Another voice replied. “Halrick says to stay calm. We watch. We wait. But we have people inside. We’ll block the vote next week.”
Block the vote?
I stepped closer.
“She’s stirring the females. And if the Alpha sides with her every time…”
The rest was muffled.
My pulse quickened. They weren’t just gossiping. They were organizing. Silently tightening their grip on tradition—on control. And they didn’t plan to stop at disapproval.
I turned to leave, but a rustle behind me made me freeze.
Someone had followed me.
A figure stepped out—hooded, slender. Female. Familiar.
Nessa.
“I didn’t mean to listen,” she whispered quickly. “I was heading to the training tent when I heard them. I think it’s worse than what we know.”
“How many of them are there?” I asked.
“At least five. Two council aides. One warrior captain. And…” she hesitated. “Someone in the record hall. The one that archives strategy documents.”
My gut twisted.
“Why tell me?” I asked softly.
“Because you gave me a chance. And because I believe in what you’re doing.”
I nodded slowly. “Then we don’t tell Roman yet.”
Nessa blinked. “Why not?”
“Because if they’re planning to block a vote, they’ll try to bait him. Provoke him into reacting with force. I won’t let them paint him as an aggressor.”
“Then what do we do?”
I met her gaze.
“We watch. We gather names. And when the time is right, we don’t block them... we expose them.”
She nodded once, then vanished back into the shadows.
I stood alone a moment longer, heart pounding—not from fear, but from resolve.
They wanted to play politics in the dark?
Fine.
I’d bring the light.
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