By the time word came that Randall and Corbin had returned, Elinore had already read through a dozen reports, denied three ill-timed requests from opportunistic nobles, and started drafting a speech she wasn't sure the kingdom would even hear.
She was exhausted. But she didn't let it show.
The throne room doors creaked open as the two wolves stepped inside. One dark and brooding, the other smiling like he hadn't just been out hunting death.
Randall. Shirt partially laced, blood smudged faintly on his jaw, hair tousled like he'd rolled through a battlefield and enjoyed every second of it. He looked like trouble incarnate. And worse, he looked pleased with himself.
Corbin followed, silent as always, his face unreadable but stiff.
Elinore rose from her throne, spine straight. "Report."
Corbin gave a short bow. "We tracked the rogues. Six in total. Organized, but scattered once we engaged."
"And?" she asked, gaze flicking briefly to Randall.
Randall's expression was casual. Too casual.
"We took them out," he said. "Quick. They weren't built for an actual fight."
"Motivation?" she pressed. "Was this retaliation? A message? Territory-related?"
Randall shrugged. "Hard to say. No markings, no clear command structure. Looked like a desperate bunch trying to make a point. We intercepted before they could."
Elinore narrowed her eyes. That was vague. Too vague.
She looked at Corbin. "Would you agree with the prince's assessment?"
Corbin's eyes flicked toward Randall, brief and subtle.
"Yes," he said. "Uncoordinated. Dangerous, but unfocused."
Lie.
Elinore was used to reading between lines. Used to the weight of what wasn't said. And right now, the silence was screaming.
Her voice softened, but only just. "Nothing worth reporting to the Council, then?"
Randall tilted his head. "If we report every desperate skirmish, they'll call for blood. You wanted this quiet. I kept it quiet."
Elinore studied him. He was too calm, too comfortable.
And yet… something in his shoulders was tight. Like whatever he wasn't saying still lived under his skin.
She stepped forward, only once, but it was enough to shift the room.
"I'm not a fool, Randall," she said. "You're hiding something."
He didn't flinch. "You really think I'd lie to you?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
"That's very smart of you." Randall's smile curved.
Alpha Corbin shifted slightly beside him, just enough to confirm what she already knew. He was holding back, too.
She didn't press.
Not here. Not with guards and stone walls listening.
"Very well," she said finally, tone cool. "I'll assume the situation is under control."
Randall inclined his head with mock deference. "As always."
Corbin said nothing.
Elinore turned, already stepping down from the dais. "Walk with me."
She didn't look back to see if he followed. She knew he would.
They passed through the arched corridor in silence. Outside, dusk was deepening. The hall lit by firelight and the soft hum of guards changing shifts.
Only once they were alone on the east balcony did she speak again.
"You're hiding something."
Randall leaned against the stone railing like they were discussing the weather.
"You say that like it's a crime."
"It is when it puts the kingdom at risk."
His gaze flicked to hers, a little sharper now. "I'm protecting the kingdom, Elinore. You're the one who wants to keep everything stitched together with paper and patience. I deal in teeth."
"Then show me the bite." She crossed her arms.
He was quiet for a moment, eyes searching her face.
"I've seen too many leaders act out of fear," he said. "And too many councils overreact to threats they don't understand. This wasn't political. It was a flare. A desperate howl in the dark. If I raise alarm bells over it, the Council will weaponize it, against the wolves. Against you."
"So instead, you decide what I should or shouldn't know?"
He didn't answer.
And that was answer enough.
She stepped closer, voice low. "If you want me to trust you, Randall, you can't keep me in the dark."
His golden eyes held hers.
"I don't need you to trust me," he said. "I need you to let me do what I'm good at."
"And what is that?" she asked. "Playing hero in shadows?"
"No." He leaned in, close enough for her to feel the heat of him. "Keeping people like you alive while you hold everything else together."
Her breath hitched. Not from fear. From the sudden, terrifying honesty in his voice.
He stepped back just as quickly, the distance breaking the spell.
"Now if you're done accusing me," he added lightly, "I'd like to clean up before someone mistakes me for the court butcher."
She didn't stop him, didn't speak again until he was gone.
And when she finally turned back toward the setting sun, her hands were clenched at her sides.
She stayed on the balcony long after the sun had vanished, its last light swallowed by the mountains. The wind had picked up, tugging at the edge of her cloak, but she didn't move.
She was still thinking about the way he'd said it.
Keeping people like you alive.
As if it were a fact, not a favor. As if she was already in danger, and he'd taken it upon himself to step between her and whatever was coming.
It shouldn't have unsettled her. Because for all his arrogance, all his games, Randall Astor does not bluff. Not like that.
And he cannot lie well, either.
He hadn't told her everything. That much was obvious. But it wasn't the concealment that bothered her most, it was the reason behind it. He thought he was protecting her.
Like she was something breakable, like he had already decided where her limits were.
She hated that.
And hated even more the part of her that was afraid he might be right.
A soft knock sounded against the stone frame behind her.
Alec stepped closer carefully.
"Alpha Corbin has returned to the barracks," he said gently. "But the prince was seen heading to the upper courtyard. Alone."
She didn't respond.
"Should I follow?" he asked.
Elinore shook her head. "No. Let him go."
Alec stepped forward, lowering his voice. "There's talk already. Whispers about what really happened out there. Some say it wasn't rogues at all. Others think Corbin's hiding a casualty."
Elinore exhaled, slow and cold. "Of course they're whispering. The moment silence walks into a room, someone starts inventing noise."
"What would you like me to do?"
She turned from the railing at last, her eyes catching the low flicker of torchlight below.
"Nothing," she said. "Not yet. But keep your ears open. If someone is trying to stir fear inside these walls, I want to know before the fear spreads."
Alec bowed his head. "Yes, my lady."
She started walking then, slow and measured, back through the corridors of her palace. Their palace.
And as she passed through the great hall, she could still feel it. His presence. Not just where he had stood, but the weight of it. The threat of it. The promise.
Randall Astor may have left her in the dark. But Elinore Gerville was already lighting the match.