C8 The Questions Nobody Should Ask

I barely slept that night, Lyra's warning circling through my head on an endless loop, "someone has been asking questions about you." Not Damien. Not my mother. Not even the elders. Someone else, someone unnamed, and by sunrise I was already dressed and standing in the corridor, restless before the sun had fully cleared the walls.

I found three of my brothers waiting there, Adrian leaning against the stone with his arms crossed, Victor clutching a stack of papers, Noah looking like he'd been physically dragged out of bed. Damien was nowhere in sight.

"What's going on?" I asked, scanning their faces. Victor lifted the papers. "Father gave us our first official assignment."

I frowned. "All of us?"

"Not exactly," he said, handing me a single document. I scanned it fast — the five princes split across Bloodmoon's duties, Damien overseeing the western warriors, Adrian sorting internal disputes, Victor buried in trade negotiations, Noah shadowing the royal healers. And me? Patrol duty with the palace guards through the southern district. I looked up. "Why me?"

Adrian shrugged. "Because you're the only one Father hasn't decided what to do with yet."

"Congratulations," Victor said, grinning. "Thank you," I said flatly, glaring at him. Noah stepped in, more gently. "Actually, I think it's a good opportunity — people in the southern district already like you." I thought of the old woman who'd once pressed bread into my hands for nothing, and something warm loosened in my chest despite myself.

That's when Damien arrived, stopping short at the sight of the document in my hand. "You're going to the southern district?"

"Apparently."

"Father gave you patrol authority?"

"Not authority. Responsibility."

"Same thing."

I lifted an eyebrow at him. "Why does it bother you?"

"It doesn't," he said, too quickly, and Adrian laughed under his breath. "It clearly does." Damien ignored him entirely, eyes locked on mine. "Just don't make another mistake," he said, and I folded the document and told him I'd try. He walked past me — then stopped, back still turned. "Someone was asking about you last night."

My blood went cold. I turned. "What?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Three questions."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Then why tell me?"

His eyes found mine, unreadable. "Because for once, I don't think you're the problem." Then he was gone, and I stood there staring after him, unsettled in a way his anger never managed. For the first time, Damien had warned me instead of threatening me. That frightened me more.

By midday the five of us had gathered in an unused strategy room — the first time we'd sat together without our parents hovering. Victor spread maps across the table, tapping the southern district. "Fastest-growing trade region we have. Humans are buying our timber, herbs, metals."

"But the eastern border is unstable," Adrian said. "Because of Ironfang?" Noah asked. "Not only Ironfang." Adrian jabbed a finger at a cluster of villages. "Disputed territory, missing livestock, travelers vanishing."

My stomach tightened. "People are disappearing?"

"Three this month."

"Why haven't we heard about this?"

"Because the elders don't want the pack to panic," Adrian said. Damien's face turned serious. "What do you suggest?"

"We investigate quietly," Adrian said, and Victor smiled, tapping the table. "I prefer money to investigations."

"You always do," Damien said, and Victor shrugged. "Money solves more problems than claws."

"Not all," Noah said, smiling.

"Give me a few years," Victor shot back, and the whole room broke into laughter — even Damien, and for one strange, weightless moment we were just five young men around a table, not rivals, not heirs fighting over a crown. Then Damien's eyes landed on me. "Kael. You said you saw a red wagon in the southern district."

"Yes."

"Can you recognize the driver?"

"No."

"Then we'll find him."

"We?" I asked, startled.

"You and me," he said, and Adrian's eyebrow shot up. "You're voluntarily working with him?"

"Don't make it sound strange," Damien said, annoyed.

"It is strange."

"I should write this down," Victor said, delighted, and Damien ignored him entirely. "We're brothers," he said, meeting my eyes. "At least for now, we should act like it." I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. Then Noah's head snapped toward the door. "Someone's outside." We all turned. Nothing there — but when Adrian pulled the door open, a folded paper lay abandoned on the floor. Victor snatched it up, and his grin vanished as he read it. He handed it to Damien without a word. Six words, nothing more: "The second prince is not who he thinks." My blood turned to ice. Nobody spoke. Adrian looked at me. Noah went pale. Damien folded the paper slowly. "Nobody says a word about this."

"What does it mean?" I asked. He looked straight at me. "I don't know." But something behind his eyes told me he was terrified of finding out.

That evening, I found Lyra beneath the moonflower tree in the garden, a book open on her lap, and she looked up as I approached. "You came."

"You told me not to go anywhere."

"I didn't expect you to actually listen."

"I don't always."

"I noticed," she said, smiling, and I sat beside her, letting the wind fill the silence for a while before she closed her book. "Did you find anything?"

"Not exactly." I told her about the note. Her expression shifted, sharpened. "What did it say?" I made myself repeat the words, and her eyes searched mine. "Kael…"

"I know."

"How long have people been saying things like that about you?"

"All my life."

"No." She reached over and closed her fingers gently around my wrist. "This was different. Someone is deliberately trying to frighten you."

I looked down at her hand on my skin. "Maybe I'm already frightened," I admitted. She went quiet, then leaned closer. "Then let me stay." My heart stumbled. "Lyra—"

"I mean it," she said, resting her head against my shoulder, and the simple warmth of it loosened something tight in my chest I hadn't realized I was holding. "You make it difficult to remember I'm supposed to stay away from you," I said.

She smiled up at me. "Maybe you're not supposed to." I turned toward her, our faces close, her eyes lifting to mine, neither of us speaking. She traced the fading bruise along my cheek with one careful finger. "Does it still hurt?"

"Only when I smile."

"Then stop smiling."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you're here." Her smile softened into something quieter, and she leaned in until our foreheads touched. "I wish things were simpler," she murmured.

"So do I."

"I wish we could walk through the palace without everyone watching."

"I wish I could hold your hand without wondering who'd punish me for it," I said, and she laced her fingers through mine anyway. "Then hold it," she said, squeezing tight.

"For tonight, let them watch." I smiled, and she leaned closer still, her lips stopping just short of mine, my pulse hammering loud enough I was certain she could hear it. "You're thinking too much," she whispered.

"I usually do."

"Then don't." She closed the last inch between us and kissed me, soft and unhurried, and when she finally pulled back neither of us said a word, her cheeks flushed pink, mine probably worse. "Now you can think about that all night," she said, and I laughed. "You planned that."

"Maybe." She rose to leave, then bent close one more time. "Kael?"

"Yes?"

Her fingers brushed through my hair, her expression turning serious. "Whatever happens, don't let them make you believe you're unwanted." Then she walked away, and I watched her go, and for a handful of precious seconds I forgot about the note entirely. Until I got back to my room.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong — drawers hanging open, clothes strewn across the floor, my mattress dragged half off its frame. I froze in the doorway. Someone had been searching for something specific. Nothing looked stolen at first glance, until I reached the small wooden box on my desk, the old bracelet, the childhood drawing, the faded scrap of cloth all still there. But Lyra's handkerchief was gone.

My chest tightened painfully. I searched every corner. Nothing. Then footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, and I threw the door open to find no one there — only a second note lying on the floor. My hands shook as I picked it up. One line this time: "Ask your mother why she never loved you."

I stopped breathing. My mother. Selena. Why would anyone drag her into this? I crushed the note in my fist, and that's when I heard movement behind me. I spun around. Damien stood at the end of the corridor, watching me, his face unreadable. "Kael."

I held the note up, and his expression darkened instantly. "What does it say?"

I hesitated, then handed it over. He read it, jaw tightening. "Where did you get this?"

"My room."

He glanced down the corridor, then back at me. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere private."

"Why?"

He dropped his voice. "Because I just remembered something."

"What?"

He held my gaze. "When we were children — you weren't always treated like a servant." My heart stopped cold. "What are you talking about?"

He looked genuinely shaken. "I remember Father used to carry you. He used to call you his little wolf." My mouth went completely dry. "Why don't I remember that?" Damien didn't answer, and the note in his hand suddenly felt far more dangerous than a few cruel words scrawled by a stranger.

Because whoever was behind this wasn't just trying to ruin my name. They were trying to unmake my entire childhood, one memory at a time. And somewhere in this palace, they'd just stolen the first thing that had ever made me feel loved.