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From the “warriors” trained from birth to actually serve as spies in Ganymede to rebels using the rogue territory to slip through poorly guarded borders in Rhea and setting up a secret stronghold, the packs had been a patchwork of silent warfare occurring right under their noses during these times ofpeacefor years.
It was when Silver spoke of Charon and Locke, of Cassius, her father, Imperial Luna Marlane, and Adrien that she knew she needed to leave—not only that tent but the island entirely. Someone stronger may have been able to sit through it, someone better, but she had not been prepared and had no one to turn to as they spewed their vitriol. She only could watch Amalie’s nerve-skewering smile as she felt the desire for her family’s blood dripping from every emphatic spoken word.
Had she always been a part of this?
The alpha’s niece said nothing as Isla slowly rose from her seat after the most recent orator’s conclusion. She kept low as she snuck down the wooden bleachers, light on her feet to manage their creaking. Thankfully, her movements were drowned out by the chittering crowd. In the short intermission, spectators spoke amongst themselves, some clearly roused by the cause, invigorated by the possibilities if they shredded the hierarchy apart. Others had been understandably wary, privy to the fact that pretty words and speeches only masked the catastrophe that this could be, the destruction it could lead to, and the lives lost.
Isla had just reached the sandy ground when she caught Silver returning to the stage again. Someone had been tailing him onto the platform but stopped short just shy of the wide spotlight. Her heart leaped into her throat when she recognized the petite built and black-cropped hair. It was the woman who’d handed the flyer to her.
“As you may or may not have heard,” Silver boomed over the crowd, his tone smooth and assured, while Isla dipped back to shield herself in the structure’s shadow. “Four days ago, our brothers and sisters in Deimos crowned their new luna. Alpha Kai, a victim of a tragedy that could’ve been prevented had the Imperial legions done their duty and kept sorceresses from breaching our lands, found his fated mate.” From some, whoops and whistles went through the air, but others released low grumbles.
Isla’s entire body was numb.
“His fated is a warrior born of Io.” Those noises of approval slipped into sharp breaths. Clearly, they hadn’t known. “The Imperial Beta’s daughter.”
More gasps and now chatter had begun, frantic words of confusion and begrudging words cursing the Goddess.
“But so I’ve learned, she is one for our cause.”
The chatter ceased.
Isla scrunched her brows. What was he talking about?
“It has been relayed with confidence from our most trusted allies that before the luna accepted her role at the alpha’s side, they devised a plan, and she bravely returned to the Imperial Pack, risking her life to gather intel. From her, we learned of an arsenal of witches that Imperial Alpha Cassius is harboring in Valkeric, their mountain prison, preparing to unleash them upon us all.”
Cries of shock and fear erupted, and Isla had to resist her own.
None of that had been true. At least, not the part of her involvement or why she’d gone home, but she bit down on her tongue and her urge to jump out and refute him.
Because she was smarter. She understood.
The alpha who made history in the Hunt, who practically spat in the Imperial Alpha’s face, and his destined queen that followed him. His queen, a daughter of Imperial blood, a warrior—Fate couldn’t have made it any clearer…
Eli’s words. She was a chess piece on a much bigger board—a symbol.
She couldn’t control the misinformation they spread, the propaganda, and couldn’t change who and what they wanted her to be. These people would believe what they heard today. Everything.
It was better for her if they believed it. The fact about the witches had been true, anyway.
“With her knowledge of Io, her strength, and Alpha Kai by her side, whose power is unlike anyone has ever seen—the ability tokillwithout touching an opponent—” More gasps and jabber. “We are stronger than we ever have been, and now—now is when we rally ourselves. Now is when we prepare to strike. The luna is here,” Isla nearly choked, “in Mimas, visiting our alpha, our pack, preparing for our fight. She arrived at the Pack Hall just this afternoon.”
Isla’s heart stopped entirely when Silver’s eyes, the color of his namesake, flitted in her direction. Brief enough not to draw attention but with enough of a flash that—
He knew who she was, knew she was there.
She was leaving.
Now.
After a glimpse of Amalie, who wasn’t looking her way but still donned that serpentine smile, Isla turned on her heel.
She kept her steps casual as she exited the tent, feeling the entry guard watching her closely. But once she rounded a dune, shielded from his eyes, Isla sprinted. She sprinted until her feet ached, until her lungs burned, until that ridiculous hat got lost in the wind.
She didn’t run for the main part of the island. She couldn’t handle people right now, none of that chaos. Her mask needed to be reforged, and the only way that could happen was if she broke and gathered herself again.
The southern beach had been deserted and was a thin stretch of sand compared to what she’d glimpsed of the grander northern end closer to the ferry entrance. Isla was grateful for the barrenness as panic pressed on her chest with cold, clawed hands. Squeezing. Shredding.
Chest heaving, Isla looked down at her own splayed fingers, prickles forming over her chilling skin, her insides writhing, twisting. “Please don’t.” Darkness pressed in. Gathered.
