Madam opened the door abruptly.

"Come along, you have slept the whole morning," she ordered, already moving toward the bathroom as though time itself waited for no one. "I’ll fix a hot bath for you with some healing oil."

Aire parted her eyes slowly.

Her body felt... heavy.

She stretched softly against the bed. Her fingers curled into the sheets before she turned her head toward the curtains.

The curtains were open wide. Seems like they’ve been that way for a while now. Golden light filtered through them, soft and late. Afternoon, perhaps.

Aire blinked.

How did she not wake up when they were drawn?

She always woke up at the slightest shift. Perhaps, she was beginning to get too familiar and comfortable here, when she shouldn’t.

Her brows pulled together faintly. A dull ache pulsed at the back of her head. The ache was sharp enough to be noticed, yet soft enough to be ignored.

She frowned.

"Can I have a cold bath, Madam... please?" she called, and her voice came out quieter than she expected.

Madam paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder. Then she nodded. "Yes, dear."

Aire watched her for a moment longer before slowly pushing herself upright. Her body protested slightly.

She felt it in her bones, that she had slept far longer than she should have. She slipped her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool floor.

She inhaled softly, then stood up.

The bathroom filled quickly. She walked i to the bathroom, and the faint, sharp scent of healing oils mixed with cold water lingered in the air.

Madam worked quietly.

Aire stood by the door, watching her for a moment.

There was something oddly comforting about the woman’s presence. She was firm and unyielding, yes, but Aire felt as if she xoukd trust her.

"The bath is ready," Madam said after a moment, stepping aside.

Aire nodded softly. "Thank you."

She moved forward, slipping out of her clothes without hesitation.

She stepped into the bath, and the moment the cold water touched her skin, Aire gasped.

Her body jolted instinctively, with her breath catching sharply in her throat.

The chill wrapped around her like a sudden grip, stealing warmth, and forcing her senses awake all at once.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. She couldn’t believe she brought this upon herself with her silly mouth.

Her shoulders tensed. She sank slowly into thw water, letting the cold take her. The ache at the back of her head dulled slightly.

Her breathing steadied. The water lapped gently against her skin. She closed her eyes as Madam began to bath her.

When she stepped out, her skin tingled. She felt awake, alive, and different.

Madam was already there with a towel.

She wrapped it around Aire’s shoulders with practiced ease, then guided her gently toward the vanity.

"Sit."

Aire obeyed like she always did. Even if she might never want to, Madam tone made disobedience feel unnecessary.

Madam stood behind her, and began drying her hair carefully.

Aire watched her reflection. She watched herself. She looked paler than usual, with her silver hair damp and clinging softly to her shoulders.

Her eyes looked slightly tired, with under eye bags, as if someone had sucked life out of her.

"What’s wrong?" Madam asked suddenly.

Aire blinked. Her gaze shifted slightly in the mirror. "Nothing," she started.

Then, she paused.

That wasn’t true. There were too many things. Too many questions. Too many things that didn’t make sense.

Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap.

"What happened to the Luna?" she asked quietly.

Madam’s hands stilled for the briefest second.

"The Luna before me." Aire clarified, referring to the triplets mother.

Madam gathered her hair slowly, pulling it back with careful precision. "She was taken captive by the faes."

Aire’s breath caught. Her eyes widened slightly. "What?"

The word left her before she could stop it.

Taken?

By faes?

No one had said anything like that.

No one had even hinted.

Everyone believed the Luna had simply... left. Everyone believed that she had grown tired of her duties, and had chosen to disappear.

Aire’s thoughts stumbled.

"Faes still live?" she asked, her voice softer now. Almost uncertain. If faes still lived, that means....

Madam’s gaze met hers through the mirror.

"You ask too many questions, Aire." The words came out firm. Too firm they could pass off as harsh.

Madam let down two strands of Aire’s hair, allowing them to fall softly along both sides of her face, framing her features, and softening them.

"There," she said simply. "We shouldn’t have Lady Mabel waiting all day."

....

The carriage was warm, and the air sat thick between them, unmoving, and untouched by words.

Mabel sat across from her. Her posture was straight, with her attention entirely fixed outside the window.

She stared out, as though Aire did not exist at all.

Aire sat quietly with her hands rested in her lap. Her fingers fidgeted softly against each other, twisting, and untwisting.

A small, restless movement she couldn’t quite stop. The wheels of the carriage rolled steadily beneath them.

A tour.

That’s what they had called it.

Mabel and Madam said it would be a way to see the pack. To understand it, and to belong to it. They said she must do it in the carriage, so people don’t step away from her.

Aire swallowed faintly. She wasn’t sure she wanted that.

Her gaze drifted toward the window.

The streets passed by slowly.

People moved, laughed, worked, spoke, and traded among themselves. It looked... normal, and almost peaceful.

Suddenly, a sharp noise broke the quietness of the streets.

Aire’s head snapped toward the window.

"What’s going on there?" she asked, already leaning forward slightly.

There was a crowd. The crowd wasn’t large, but it was dense. Men gathered tightly around something, or someone.

The energy was wrong, and too aggressive.

Mabel didn’t even look.

She simply waved her hand dismissively.

"A young lad might have been caught stealing," she said casually. "They’ll beat him around and take him in for questioning."

Aire blinked. Her gaze snapped back to the crowd. "They’ll what?" she turned to Mabel, and back to the street. "That’s appealing," she murmured, her eyes scanning the men.

There were too many of them. Too many grown wolves. For one small figure to be trapped in the middle.

Her chest tightened.

"But he’s just a child," Aire said, her voice rising slightly now. "Surely they’re not going to mutilate him for just stealing."

Mabel sighed softly. The conversation itself bored her. "He’s an omega," she replied, dismissively. "Most of the kids running around these streets are."

Aire’s breath stilled.

"An average wolf can kill any of them with no consequences." She added, with a small smile as it to wear her mask back on.

Aire turned sharply to her.

Shock filled her expression. "How long does this go on for?"

"Until blood is drawn," Mabel said simply. "Or until someone pays for whatever he stole."

Silence filled the carriage the moment Mabel stopped speaking. Aire turned back to the window.

The crowd shifted. She caught a glimpse of a small figure struggling between the men above him.

Her stomach dropped.

"This is barbarous," she whispered.

Her hand moved instinctively toward the carriage door.

Things weren’t done this way. Not in Beta Kole Park. There were rules in Beta Kole’s Park. Before Beta Kole took over, her father had placed rules even or the weakest. In fact, especially for the weakest, and even if Beta Kole wasn’t the best man, he had kept to those rules.

Growing up, she had thought being born in the King’s Pack was the greatest privilege. The safest place, and the most just.

Her fingers tightened around the handle. Her opinion had been crushed completely.

Mabel’s voice cut through her thoughts. "Aire, stay here."

Aire didn’t answer.

Her heart was beating faster now. Her gaze remained fixed outside. On the boy. On the crowd. On the imbalance. And on the wrongness of it all.

She turned toward the coachman.

"Stop the carriage," she ordered. "Now."