“So,” Gerald said, his low voice lifting in clear surprise, “did I hear that correctly? You are offering me your share of the Mortimer territory?”

I did not answer.

A brief chuckle rolled from his chest, deep and steady.

“In that case, I accept. But I never take without giving. How about this, Victoria? Bind yourself to me under a long oath.”

I stiffened.

“You always spoke of wandering beyond the mountain lines,” he continued smoothly. “It so happens I have invested in a great traveling conclave, a gathering that moves from pack to pack. I still lack the one who will stand at its center and speak.”

“I am no longer young,” I said instinctively. “My form, my presence…”

“Enough,” Gerald cut in without impatience. “Fifty-five winters is not the end of anything. You were once the most luminous voice to rise from the High Academies. That has not changed.”

He did not ask what I had endured.

As if my path were already decided, his tone left no space for refusal.

“Forget Gerald,” he said. “Look forward. I will come for you when I return.”

Some things never changed. He was still as commanding as he had been in his youth.

After a long pause, I exhaled slowly.

“Very well,” I said. “I accept, Edmund.”

For the first time in decades, my life was beginning on my own terms.

Gerald did not return to the lodge that night.

At dawn, his call came through the rune-stone.

“Bring the morning meal to the council hall,” he ordered. “Prepare enough for two. We have a guest.”

He never trusted food prepared by others. For thirty winters, even when I was fevered or sleepless, I rose before sunrise to cook for him.

When I entered his chamber at the hall, I stopped short.

Tessa stood there.

She wore a pale-gold mantle, her posture elegant and composed. At her feet lay my favorite hide-canvas, torn apart and scattered across the stone floor.

In its place stood a new moonstone carving.

My mind went blank.

“Who did this?” I demanded, heat surging up my spine. “That was my work.”

Tessa’s eyes widened, her hand rising in feigned alarm.

“Oh, I thought it was nothing of value,” she said softly. “It looked crude. I replaced it with one of mine. Forgive me, Victoria.”

That canvas was the only piece Gerald and I had ever crafted together during the journey we once called sacred.

Gerald did not even look up from the scrolls in his hand. He crossed the room and took the food vessel from me.

“It does not matter,” he said dismissively. “That old thing had no worth. This place finally feels refined.”

As he passed me, his shoulder struck mine.

I fell.

Broken frame shards cut into my palm. Blood spilled instantly, sharp pain flashing white through my vision.

I tried to rise.

Then I saw it.

A pale silk garment, discarded carelessly in the corner.

My chest tightened, breath catching painfully.

Gerald noticed none of it.

When Tessa’s eyes shimmered and she said softly, “Gerald, there were ground nuts in the porridge. You know I cannot tolerate them. I could have died,” his expression darkened at once.

Without hesitation, he hurled the vessel into the fire pit.

Then he looked down at me on the floor with open disdain.

“Stop acting weak. Clean up that ugly thing. And never use ground nuts again.”

He took Tessa by the hand and left.

That night, at her celebration feast, I watched him shield her from the crowd, refusing to let her carry even the smallest satchel.

“Your hands shape beauty,” he said fondly. “They should never be burdened.”

I returned home and treated my wound myself.

Then I gathered every gift Gerald had ever given me.

Each feast, each turning of the moon, everything came in pairs.

Only then did I understand.

Nothing had ever been meant solely for me.

By the time the sun dipped low, I hurried to collect my grandson, Henry.

As he emerged with the other pups, laughter rose nearby.

“Is that your grandmother?” someone jeered.

Henry flushed crimson.

“No,” he shouted. “She is just our caretaker.”

Then he lifted a carved-image scroll.

“This is my grandmother. She is a great sculptor.”

It was Tessa.

I felt nothing.

On the ride home, Henry stayed silent.

When we stopped, he whispered, “Grandmother, are you angry?”

I looked at him calmly.

“Henry,” I said, “if you wish for another grandmother, I will help you have one.”

I handed him to the pack nanny and rode off without looking back.

When I returned to the territory, exhaustion clinging to my bones, the first thing I saw was my old harp lying in the grass outside the lodge, abandoned like refuse.

Inside, Arthur stood near the doorway, hauling in several heavy travel chests.

“Mother,” he said flatly, not meeting my eyes, “Aunt Tessa will be staying with us for a time. She dislikes noise, so I cleared out your music room and turned it into a carving chamber for her.”

I looked at him, truly looked.

In that moment, I understood that I no longer belonged here. I was not family, not welcome. I was only a remnant, something unsightly left behind, lingering where it should not.

That harp had been Arthur’s gift to me on his eighth naming day. He had traded away all his winter tokens for it.

He used to sit beside me in the sunlit room, small fingers brushing the strings, laughing as he leaned against my arm and said, “I love Mother the most.”

That child was gone.

I swallowed the pain rising in my chest and forced a thin smile.

“So this is how you treat your mother now.”

Unease flickered across his face, brief and awkward. Before he could answer, soft footsteps approached.

Gerald stepped into the yard with Tessa beside him. His expression mirrored Arthur’s, distant and cold as he looked straight at me.

“Tessa fears the dark,” he said. “Your chamber receives the most sunlight. Move out and let her take it.”

I lowered my eyes and nodded.

“Alright. I will clear my things.”

They had expected resistance. Tears, perhaps. My calm acceptance unsettled him, and surprise tightened his features.

“Victoria…”

“Oh, you are so kind,” Tessa said quickly, smiling sweetly. “Let us live peacefully together during this time.”

I did not respond. I turned and went upstairs.

In the chamber, I dragged out one heavy pack after another. Each item carried years of quiet endurance, of giving without return.

When I tossed three decades of memories into the refuse cart, Gerald followed me out, frowning.

“Why are you discarding so much?”

“Things I no longer need.”

He hesitated, then reached into one pack and froze.

“These are the gifts I gave you.”

I smiled faintly.

“Old things should have been thrown away long ago.”

His jaw tightened.

“You used to treasure them.”

Yes. Once, anything from him had made me glow with foolish joy. I had sworn to keep each gift forever.

But forever was too heavy for a heart worn thin by betrayal.

I passed him without stopping.

“There is someone new in the lodge now,” I said quietly. “You never liked crowds.”

He seemed about to explain that Tessa’s stay was temporary, but I was already loading the last pack onto my mount.

He exhaled sharply.

“There is a feast tonight. You have not attended one in years. Come along with Tessa.”

He had not brought me to a gathering in a long time. Not since my body changed, not since I no longer suited his image.

At the feast, Gerald and Tessa dismounted first.

The host greeted them warmly. “Alpha Mortimer, your mate is as radiant as ever.”

Gerald did not correct him. He took Tessa’s hand naturally.

“Thank you.”

“And this lady is…?”

Only then did he glance at me, briefly, before looking away.

“Our aide.”

I stood still.

Though I expected it, the words still tore through me.

I lifted my chin and entered the feast hall with what dignity I had left.

Tessa clung to Gerald’s arm as they moved through the firelit gathering, graceful and inseparable, like a true bonded pair.

I remained apart, watching as though from another world.

Then, without warning, a sharp pain ripped through my injured right calf, burning and sudden, stealing the breath from my lungs.

In an instant, cold sweat soaked through my back.

The old injury from the ravine flared violently. The leg that had once been shattered throbbed with each heartbeat, pain spreading like fire through bone and muscle. I could no longer stand among the crowd and had no choice but to ask for a place to rest.

What they gave me was a narrow storage room carved into stone, dark and unheated, used only for tools and discarded supplies.

The moment I stepped inside, there was a sharp click behind me.

The door locked.

“Gerald has always loved me,” Tessa’s voice rang out from beyond the door, bright with malice. “You miserable woman who chased him shamelessly. Thirty years as his mate meant nothing. He never loved you.”

I slid down against the cold wall, breath coming shallow.

“You saw it yourself tonight,” she continued. “I stood at his side, where a true mate belongs. This silk mantle I wore was chosen by your daughter. That moonstone timepiece was given by your son. They adore me.”

Pain tore through my leg, stealing my strength. I pounded weakly against the door, my voice breaking.

“Take him. Take them all. I do not care. Just let me leave. I need a healer. Please.”

Her laughter was soft and cruel.

“Do not delude yourself. I will not let you crawl out and ruin this night. Stay here and remember your place.”

Something was hung on the outside handle. A ward sigil. Then her footsteps faded down the corridor, each step light and unhurried.

I collapsed onto the stone floor.

My hands shook as I reached for my rune-stone.

Dead.

“No one hears you,” I whispered hoarsely.

I struck the door until my fists burned raw, shouting until my throat tore, but the chamber was buried too deep, the night too still.

In the end, the pain swallowed me whole.

Darkness followed.

When the feast ended two hours later, Gerald finally noticed my absence. His expression tightened in irritation.

“Where did she go?” he asked. “I told her to stay where she was.”

Tessa held his arm, her voice gentle with false concern.

“Did she leave because you called me your mate? If I had known she would misunderstand, I would have explained.”

Gerald scoffed.

“Tonight was filled with elders and leaders. In her state, she would only have disgraced me. Tessa, I am glad you were there. You saved my standing.”

“She is always overly dramatic,” he added. “Let her sulk. We are going home.”

Tessa glanced once toward the storage chamber, satisfaction flickering across her face.

And I remained locked inside, forgotten.

Not one member of that family remembered me.

At dawn, when Henry was to be taken to his lessons, my son finally thought of me.

“Why has she not arrived?” he snapped. “Does she know the time?”

When my rune-stone did not answer, he did not try again. He simply waved it away and told the nanny to take Henry instead.

I was discovered later by a groundskeeper.

After my rune-stone was recharged, there were no messages from Gerald. No questions. No concern.

Instead, a glowing announcement filled the screen.

[The Alpha Mortimer’s long unseen mate is revealed to be a master sculptor. A perfect union of power and artistry.]

I stared at it for a long moment, then smiled bitterly.

The rune-stone rang again.

For an instant, I thought it might be Gerald.

But it was Edmund.

The moment I answered, his voice came through, tight with restrained fury.

“Victoria. I called you all night. What happened? Where are you? Are you safe now?”