Page 50 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
Griffin hesitates, then sighs. “Maya helped her. New identity, new appearance. And there’s more.” He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I recognize from our childhood. “She is taking a treatment that Maya developed. It suppresses her wolf completely.”
“Suppresses,” I repeat, struggling to understand. “You mean, she can’t shift?”
“I mean her wolf is dormant. For all practical purposes, she’s human again.” Griffin’s expression turns grave. “It’s what she wanted, Erik. To live as a human, free from the wolf that was forced upon her. Free from the pain of a mate bond that was rejected.”
The full weight of what I’ve done crashes down on me. My legs buckle, and I clutch the edge of the desk for support.
“The treatment is experimental,” Griffin continues quietly. “Maya doesn’t know what the long-term effects may be. But Fiona was willing to take the risk.”
“She could still die,” I whisper.
Griffin nods once, the simple motion an admission that haunts me more than words could. “She wanted to live on her terms, however brief her life may be. Can you honestly say she was wrong to want that?”
I have no answer, only the crushing knowledge that, in trying to protect my focus, my duty, and my heart, I’ve lost something irreplaceable. Someone irreplaceable.
And she could be dying out there, somewhere, alone.
I leave Griffin’s office without another word and find Elina in the training yard, drilling a group of new recruits. She moves with a fluid grace, her dark hair tied back in a tight braid as she demonstrates a complex sword maneuver. The soldiers watch with rapt attention, their respect for her skill evident in their expressions.
She spots me and her face lights up. She immediately calls out for the recruits to take a break, and then she jogs toward me, concern mingling with happiness in her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be out and about yet,” she scolds, though her smile softens the words. “Jerry said at least another day of rest.”
For a moment, I find myself doubting Griffin’s words. I’ve known Elina for years. She is well-liked among the soldiers, respected for her skill and dedication. How could she have done something so deliberately harmful? Said such false things to Fiona?
But then, why would Fiona lie about such an encounter? What would she have to gain?
“I need to talk to you,” I say to Elina, keeping my voice neutral. “Privately.”
A look of uncertainty crosses her face, but she nods. “Of course.”
We walk to a secluded corner of the yard, away from curious ears. I turn to face her directly, studying her expression carefully.
“Before we left on the mission,” I begin, “did you have any encounters with Fiona?”
Elina’s brow furrows in apparent confusion. “Fiona? The blonde girl?” She shakes her head. “No, not really. I saw her around, of course, but we didn’t speak.”
The lie comes so smoothly that I almost believe her. Almost.
“You never spoke to her in the library?” I press. “Never told her there was something between us?”
Her expression hardens slightly. “If that girl claimed I said something to her, she’s lying.” Elina’s hand touches my arm lightly. “Why are you asking about her, anyway? She’s gone.”
There’s satisfaction in those last words—subtle, but unmistakable.
“Maya seems to think you told Fiona that you and I have a history together,” I continue, watching her closely. “That we’re involved romantically.”
“Maya should mind her own business,” Elina snaps, then immediately looks contrite. “I mean, the queen has more important matters to concern herself with than palace gossip.”
“So, you admit you did speak to Fiona?”
She hesitates, realizing her mistake. “I might have exchanged a few words with her once or twice. Nothing significant.”
“And did those words include telling her she isn’t good enough to be my mate? That she is too damaged?”
Color rises in Elina’s cheeks—not from embarrassment, but anger. “She isn’t good enough for you,” she says, dropping the charade. “She isn’t even a proper shifter. She was an experiment; she’s broken. You deserve better.”
The venom in her voice shocks me. “Like my sister-in-law, Maya?” I ask coldly. “Is the queen not a ‘proper shifter’ either?”
