Zelda pushed open the cavern door.

I froze, then rushed toward her. “Zelda, please. Call Healer Edrin. Ethan needs fever herbs.”

She was my only hope. For Ethan’s sake, I could beg her, even if she was the reason we were trapped here.

A faint, unreadable smile curved on Zelda’s lips. She opened her palm. “You mean this?”

“Yes. That’s it. Thank you.” I reached forward, but just as my fingers brushed the bundle of dried whiteroot, she flipped her hand.

The medicine dropped to the floor.

I lunged to grab it, but she pressed her bare foot down, grinding the crushed herbs into dust.

“I thought he would die in the desert,” she murmured. “He’s very lucky.”

I stared blankly at the pale powder smeared across the stone.

Zelda pinched my chin and leaned close. “Yvonne, listen to me. Kurt and I are bound by life and death. We were fated long before you existed.”

“Do you know what he told me when he held me?” Her voice softened. “He said he can’t sleep beside you. Only my scent calms him.”

I bit my lip hard, fighting the wave of pain clawing up my chest. I remembered clearly.

After our first night as mates, Kurt held me close and whispered, I can’t sleep without your scent.

“He doesn’t love you, Yvonne,” Zelda breathed. Each word sliced deeper.

“Why couldn’t you let go? Why did you bring a child into this world just to trap him?”

A cold dread crept through me. Holding Ethan tightly, I asked, “Did you do all this on purpose? Just to take Kurt from me?”

“Not entirely.” Zelda tilted her head, smiling sweetly with venom beneath. “I also wanted to watch you suffer.”

“You and I were both orphans. So why did you get adopted by the Kurt clan and win his heart, while I had to trail behind with no name and no rank?”

I said quietly, “Kurt wanted to adopt you. It was you who—”

“Who wants to be his adopted daughter?” she snapped, voice cracking into a scream. “I am his destined mate. His wife.”

Her fingers slid across my abdomen and jabbed Ethan’s flushed cheek. “When your baby died back then, I was thrilled.”

My vision blurred.

She continued softly, “Kurt protected me. Even though I killed his child, he still protected me.”

“That’s when I knew he was mine.”

Her nails dug into Ethan’s cheek, making him cry out.

I grabbed her wrist. “Don’t touch my child.”

Suddenly, Zelda stumbled backward with a gasp of fear.

“Ah!” Her forehead slammed into the iron door latch, and blood streamed down her face.

“Zelda!” Kurt stormed in, immediately gathering her into his arms and pressing his hand to the wound. “Steward, bring the healer.”

Zelda sagged against his chest. “Kurt, I’m alright. Ethan has a fever. Let the healer see him first.”

Then she looked at me with watery eyes that hid triumph. “I only wanted to give him medicine. Why did you push me?”

Tears mixed with blood trailed down her cheek.

Kurt’s face twisted with anguish. He turned toward me, voice cold. “Yvonne, why can’t you be more patient?”

“She fell on her own,” I said, pointing at the crushed herbs. “She destroyed Ethan’s medicine.”

His eyes dropped to the floor. For the first time, something flickered in them.

He knew how long I had waited to become a mother. He knew I would never risk my child’s life.

Hope flickered in my chest. “Kurt, Ethan’s fever—”

But before I could finish, Zelda broke into ragged sobs. “It’s my sister. She said Ethan would rather die than take my herbs. Kurt, please help him. He’s really sick.”

Kurt gently cupped her face. “Even now, you’re still thinking of him.”

Then he stood and approached me.

I will never forget the look in his eyes.

“Yvonne,” he said softly, the gentleness colder than any snarl, “I never imagined your jealousy would blind you to your own child’s suffering.”

He held out his hand.

“Give me Ethan.”

I instinctively held my son tighter. “What are you trying to do?”

“How can I trust Ethan to stay with you when you’re in this state?” Kurt’s voice was cold.

“No.” I staggered back. “He is my son. I will not be separated from him.”

Kurt’s gaze hardened into ice. He tore Ethan from my arms. The little one wailed, claws curling, ears pressed flat in fear.

“Give him back to me!” I reached for them, but Kurt kicked me aside. My waist slammed into the sharp corner of a stone chest, and a strangled cry escaped me.

For a moment, Kurt’s back stiffened, but he never turned around. He lifted Zelda gently and left the cavern… carrying my child.

The door shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

When consciousness returned, everything was washed in pale white.

The ceiling of our den.

I turned my head. Kurt sat beside me. He stirred the moment I moved and brushed a hand across my cheek. “You’re awake. Do you feel unwell?”

“I…” My throat scraped like sand. No sound came out at first.

Kurt quickly pressed a cup of heated springwater to my lips. “You were unconscious for a full day and night. Why didn’t you tell me your blood-essence drops so easily? I was terrified when you collapsed.”

His concern looked real. His voice gentle.

Gentle enough to almost make me forget he had locked his mate and their child inside a storage cavern to suffocate.

Almost.

A day and a night.

Only four more days. Then I would be gone.

I forced myself upright. “Where is Ethan?”

He pressed me back into the furs. “Don’t worry. Zelda is tending to him.”

“What?” My heart clenched. I shoved him away and stood.

Kurt seized my wrist and threw me back onto the bedding. “What are you doing?” His jaw tightened, as if holding back rage. “Yvonne, you need rest.”

Fear and fury surged hot through my veins. “You left my child with Zelda. How do you expect me to rest?”

“Yvonne!” Kurt erupted, pacing beside the bed, then snapping, “Why are you so hostile toward Zelda? You two used to get along.”

“Yes,” I laughed, bitter and cracked. “I once treated her like a sister. But what did she do? Have you ever asked? Have you ever cared to know?”

“You—”

A woman’s scream burst from the next chamber.

Then a baby’s cry—raw, choking, desperate.

I shoved Kurt out of the way and sprinted into the nursery hollow.

The sight froze my blood.

Ethan lay on his back, his tiny chest heaving, his face burning red as he coughed and gagged. Curled milk—too thick, too sweet—covered his cheeks, his chest, the bedding beneath him.

Zelda stood off to the side, wiping her tunic with a cloth, her face twisted in irritation, not concern.

I swept Ethan into my arms, patting his back, trying to clear his airway. As I pressed him close, I saw angry red welts blooming across his forehead and chest.

A reaction. A strong one.

Kurt turned to Zelda first. “What happened?”

I demanded, “Zelda, what did you feed him?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Only some clan-milk mash.”

Kurt immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why are you blaming her? She is still just a girl.”

I stared at him, disbelief clawing through me. “You trusted her with Ethan? Did you check if he reacts to mountain-milk? Did you even look at him when you walked in?”

“Enough!” Kurt roared, the sound rattling the cavern walls. “Zelda did her best to care for him. And you? You only ever find fault.”

“Yvonne, your jealousy, your bitterness… it disgusts me.”

I was stunned.

Disgusting?

“No,” I shook my head with a bitter smile. “Kurt, you are the one who makes me sick.”

“Don’t argue,” Zelda cut in, her voice trembling as she forced out a sob. “It’s my fault. Sister has every right to blame me.”

Kurt immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body, disappointment darkening his eyes. “Look at Zelda. Doesn’t that make you feel ashamed?”

Suddenly, an old memory nudged at me.

I met Kurt’s gaze. “Do you remember what you told me the night you asked me to be your mate?”

For a moment, his expression went blank.

That brief flicker made everything feel absurd. I laughed softly, bitterly. “You said I was more important than your life.”

He looked away. “You weren’t like this back then.”

“So you changed your mind?”

“I didn’t.” His voice rose abruptly, almost desperate. “Yvonne, of course I love you. But Zelda’s parents saved my life, and I promised them—”

“Enough.” I turned, Ethan still trembling in my arms. “It’s been six years. I’ve heard enough.”

At the healer’s cavern, the tribe’s spirit doctor took one look at Ethan and his face turned grim.

“What were you thinking? Even if a pup this young isn’t allergic to sea-creatures, you cannot grind fire-shrimp into milk-root mash. Had you arrived one moment later, he might not have survived.”

My head swam. “Fire-shrimp?”

The healer frowned at my tone and sighed. “Find a new caretaker. Whoever fed him this… did not do so with good intent.”

Zelda.

My legs nearly gave out.

I had almost lost Ethan.

I steadied my voice. “Can you prepare a written record of his test findings?”

After returning to the den, I drafted the separation pact.

In the garden hollow, Kurt hovered anxiously around Zelda. “Your wound hasn’t closed. Don’t strain yourself.”

Zelda smiled faintly as she loosened the soil around a small sapling. “I’m only tending the earth. I’m fine.”

“That is the intertwined tree you planted for me. I want it to grow strong. Even if I can’t stay by your side, I’ll still have it.”

Kurt grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t say that. I planted that tree for you. It means we’ll be together forever. Don’t you believe that?”

My mind went blank for a moment.

A sharp ache tightened my chest.

A new sapling stood in the best part of the garden.

Not long ago, a tree had grown there—the Albizia lovers’ tree we planted on the day we forged our mate-bond. It symbolized eternal love.

After Ethan was born, Kurt had said he wanted a tree for him in that sacred spot, a symbol of strength for our child. He claimed he moved the Albizia for Ethan’s sake.

It was a lie.

He didn’t want a place for our son.

He wanted a place for Zelda.

I drew in a long breath, walked over, and opened the separation pact to the signature page. “I want to register Ethan in an insurance scroll. Sign this.”

“Why are you here?” Kurt cleared his throat, uneasy. “Don’t you already have protections for him? Why add another?”

He reached to read the document.

As I moved to block him, Zelda tugged on his sleeve. “Kurt, go ahead and speak with her. I’ll wait outside.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“No need.”

He shoved the scroll back into my hands. “Leave it in the study. I’ll sign it once I’ve read it.”

I grabbed his wrist. “I’ve read it. Just sign.”

He frowned, glanced nervously at Zelda, already holding the doorway open.

He scribbled his signature quickly, then ran after her without looking back.

“That’s it.”

I stood there dazed.

Just like that, our six-year mate-bond ended—so carelessly, so disgracefully.

I walked into the pup’s chamber and pressed a kiss to Ethan’s warm little forehead.

“Baby… we’re free now.”