Page 34 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

I breathe the word before quite thinking it. "Bullshit. You abandoned her."

I wave my hands in front of me. "This? We are not doing this. I have no idea what you hope to gain from this, but I don't have a father and I like it that way."

He stands and grimaces again. "Abandoned Ceri? I was willing to leave my place, my titles, my wife for her. I was going to andshe knew this because I proposed. She agreed and then vanished the day after. I thought she'd left me. I searched for years and couldn't find her. I thought she didn't want to be found. A year ago, I found out that—" His mouth tightens and he sinks his head in shame. "Moira had created a situation. A vile one that made Ceri flee."

I don't want to ask, but I didn't know I wished to know the truth until now. What could possibly have happened that broke my mother's mind. "What happened?"

His eyes scare me as he says, "You would be better off not knowing, child."

I think of mother, the longing as she called after him, the ring she had told me was a gift from someone special. I shake my head and suddenly need the support of the wall to stay upright.

"You should rest?—"

"I will. The moment you are gone from here." The grief is rising again and I hate it. I hate the tears lining my eyes. I hate looking weak in front of this stranger. "I don't care who you think you are. I don't care if you knew I existed or not. For me, you never did, and I am not open to changing that."

Baldwin looks torn. Forlorn. "I understand that you may think that now. But you will come to understand soon enough that ignoring the problem doesn't make it stop existing. My home is yours, Seraphina. I would be happy to receive you. To know you?—"

"Soren is my home. The Glacial Pack is my home," I say, voice sharp. "And you are not my father."

It isn't until he leaves that I realize what I said.

Soren is my home.

CHAPTER 12

RONAN

"Idon't understand you anymore. It's like...talking to a wall that never dents. I can't seem to reach you," Tova whispers, her eyes red-rimmed.

She says that a lot lately, sounding like a damn broken record.

Before, her tendencies to burst into tears at the slightest events had only been mildly frustrating. Now, it grated on every damned nerve, pissing me the fuck off. Maybe it is the fact that the spies we had infiltrate Soren Winter's stronghold failed to mention the important detail of his little bride's pregnancy.

I had fancied myself to always be three steps ahead, but if the spies were sending back filtered information, it could only mean they've been found out.

What troubles me is how long. And if the missives I have received in the last few months are indeed correct.

It is the only reason I have accepted Tova's request to visit the North at a time like this. I must see for myself that his allies have indeed dwindled like the reports say, and my chances ofwrestling the North from him and replacing him with someone more controllable still stands.

Usually, named heirs inherited the seats of Alpha or Head Alpha, but in the event that a rival proposes a duel and wins it, the seat is transferred, only when the heir is of age. Without heirs, successions were less complicated.

I could pride myself in my strength and sing praises of it like an oversized peacock, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe I could beat Winter in a duel. I tried once before, and the scar above my heart serves as a brutal reminder that I would be fucking dead if Winter wanted me dead.

It really was that simple.

Hence, the loophole. If the larger part of the council and elders considered the Head Alpha inappropriate for the job, there would be a unanimous vote to unseat him. It was the coward's way out, but I've never minded my methods, so long as I achieved my goal.

Tova moves closer, her hands trembling. She wants reassurance. An apology. Anything I'm incapable of giving. "Have you grown so tired of me that you avoid home?" she asks. "Or do you spend your nights in the bed of the woman you call out for in your dreams?"

I stiffen. The guards feign ignorance, but I'm well aware that they have heard.

"Now is hardly the time for your nagging, Tova," Mother chides harshly before I can respond, her face pinched with annoyance and pale from the cold she isn't quite used to. "If you dedicated as much time to conceiving, maybe it would be your child's ceremony we attend tonight, not your savage cousin's."

Tova flinches.

I exhale slowly, fighting back the sharp, ugly retort sitting on my tongue. Because Mother isn't wrong. It's nearly been a year. Month after month of calculated sex and precise timing, and still nothing.

The doctors say nothing is wrong, but the court whispers of these things, they speculate about my inability to sire a child, and even if I don't give a damn about their opinions, I know exactly how weakness spreads in a pack. Like blood in water.

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