Chapter 19
Adelaide’s POV
I knelt on one knee, my spine finally relaxing.
The decree from Lycan Erasmus arrived late, but it arrived.
“Thanks, Lycan Erasmus, for his mercy!” As my words fell, the coolness of the ground beneath my palm, mixed with the scent of
withered leaves from the courtyard, was oddly reassuring compared to Bloodmoon’s laurel fragrance.
Ulrik stood rigid in my peripheral vision, his face ashen.
He opened his mouth but no sound emerged–I knew he was shocked, confused, perhaps even recalling all my patience and concessions over the past year.
But those speculations no longer concerned me. My gaze was fixed on the parchment in Fabian’s hand, the gilded wolf–head crest gleaming warmly in the autumn sun.
Rosemary suddenly clutched my sleeve, her nails digging painfully into the fabric.
“Adelaide, it was all a misunderstanding!” Her voice carried unprecedented urgency, “I thought you were trying to stop Ulrik and Velda, so I-”
I gently withdrew my arm, putting half a step between us.
Her grip lingered on the sleeve, but it no longer swayed me.
“If it’s a misunderstanding, clarity would suffice,” I said, turning to Fabian with a smile. “Beta Fabian, once Frostfang is resettled, do come by for Beata’s baking–her honey scones earned praise even from Lycan Luna.”
Fabian nodded, his eyes holding a hint of relief. “Lycan Erasmus specifically mentioned Frostfang’s Packhouse has been renovated to your childhood memories. The construction department worked for thirty days straight”
He lowered his voice. “Luna Clarissa often spoke of you, mentioning how you used to hide candied berries under her pine desk as
a child.”
My throat tightened. Staring at the cobblestones, I watched autumn sunlight cast slender shadows in the cracks.
“Thank Lycan Erasmus for me,” I said, lifting my head to find Rosemary watching me.
Her eyes swirled with emotions I couldn’t decipher–perhaps regret, perhaps resentment, but none mattered anymore.
“Once, I was Bloodmoon’s Luna,” I nodded slightly at Rosemary, “and naturally followed its rules. Not anymore.”
Before she could speak, I turned toward Beata, who waited with a wooden box.
Inside lay my father’s medals and my mother’s silver wolf–head comb.
+16 Bonus
Ulrik suddenly blocked my path, his gaze as complex as northern winter snow.
“Did you plan to leave ever since 1 asked Lycan Erasmus to approve my bond with Velda?”
His voice, low and raspy, carried a vulnerability I’d never heard before. “What exactly can’t you accept her?”
“Why am I accept her?” I looked up, watching the Bloodmoon sigil on his chest sway in the breeze. “Accept your broken vows? A
hollow title? Or a lifetime of pretense in Bloodmoon?”
My lips curled. “Ulrik, we both know some things shouldn’t be trampled once vowed.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Not a single shred of regret?”
His voice was a whisper. “This year… what about us?”
“Regret what?” I cut in, tracing the gilded script on the parchment. “There’s nothing to regret. From the moment you broke your
oath, you meant nothing to me.”
Recalling his accusations, my tone turned sharp. “Velda claims she’s above jealousy, but I won’t even waste breath explaining
“above” to her.”
As I turned, my whip cracked against the stone steps. “Ulrik, some paths end not from jealousy, but from pride–the daughter of Frostfang’s Alpha doesn’t kneel for crumbs of a heart.”
பம்
The courtyard wind suddenly rose, carrying Rosemary’s plea and Ulrik’s silence into the autumn sun.
Beata draped a leather coat over my shoulders, her touch warm and unchanged.
A chapter of life in Bloodmoon was closing
Ahead, Frostfang’s banner would fly proud, and 1, bearing the Davidson legacy, would stride into broader horizons.
“Let’s go,” Halsey said, wiping her tears as she rose with a cane.
Her figure stood firm in the autumn sun.
The elder invited by Bloodmoon slipped away in the chaos, her skirt brushing the threshold with a sigh.
The Tenar family stood rooted in the courtyard. Ulrik’s hand was clenched, his knuckles pressed against the Blood Moon
medallion
I knew what they were staring at the gilded word on the parchment–a sharp needle piercing their last shred of hope for Frostfang’s wealth
“Large furniture can’t be moved today,” I said as Omega Jessica directed packing “Send a truck tomorrow–not a single nail left
for them.”
“Yes, even the storage jars need inventory,” Beata’s eyes sparkled. “Every blade of grass from Frostfang deserves to come home.”
“Let’s go,” I said, taking the leather jacket from Beata. Passing through the courtyard, Ulrik still stood motionless, a soulless
statue.
