"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

Fallon studied me for another second, then stepped back.

"Be ready at dawn."

"For what?"

"We ride."

The next morning, frost silvered the forest floor.

I had expected a ceremonial hunt designed to display Obsidian strength. Instead, Fallon brought me to the northern boundary where winter traps were being reset and old battle markers removed.

"Why am I here?" I asked as we rode.

"Because the treaty gives Crescent access to this road next month. If you are going to accuse us of moving patrols across the line, you should know where the line actually is."

"How generous. A guided tour of stolen land."

"Half this ridge belonged to neither pack before your grandfather moved the stones."

"And I am sure Obsidian's version of the map says that."

"There are three versions. I have read all of them."

That surprised me enough to end the argument for several breaths.

Fallon rode a black stallion beside my gray mare while six Obsidian guards spread through the trees around us.

"Shorten your reins," he said.

"I know how to ride."

"You ride like someone who expects the forest to apologize before it attacks."

"Your father already tried that approach."

His mouth twitched.

Before I could decide whether it was almost a smile, a whistle cut through the trees.

"Down!"

Fallon launched from his saddle.

His body hit mine and knocked us both from the mare.

We crashed through thorn brush and rolled down a short slope.

A crossbow bolt buried itself in the tree where my chest had been.

Green liquid smoked along the metal tip.

Wolfsbane.

A gunshot cracked above us.

Fallon jerked.

Blood spread across his left shoulder.

"Fallon?"

He rolled off me, drew a pistol with his good hand, and fired twice into the canopy.

A man fell from a branch and hit the ground hard.

Two more shots answered from deeper in the trees. Our escort scattered for cover. Fallon shoved me behind a fallen trunk before he returned fire. The attack was disciplined: one shooter kept the guards pinned while another moved to cut off the trail back to the fortress. These were not desperate refugees. Someone had trained them.

"West ravine," Fallon barked to his captain. "Do not chase past the marker. It is a funnel."

Even bleeding, he recognized the terrain faster than any of them.

"Move," Fallon ordered.

"You're shot."

"I noticed."

He kicked the dead attacker's arm aside.

A black serpent had been tattooed around the man's wrist.

"Serpent rebels," Fallon said.

His face had already gone pale.

The bullet was silver.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me deeper into the woods as another bolt struck the dirt behind us.

We ran until the guards' shouts disappeared.

A narrow crack in a limestone ridge opened into a shallow cave.

Fallon made it three steps inside before collapsing against the wall.

His breathing turned ragged.

I used the small knife from my boot to cut away his jacket. The bullet had passed through the outer shoulder but left a silver burn around the wound. Blackened veins were already spreading under the skin.

"That looks bad."

"Your medical training is astonishing."

"I could make it worse if you prefer."

"There is the woman I remember."

I froze.

Fallon's eyes opened.

"What did you say?"

He looked away. "Nothing."

The lie sat between us.

"The bullet needs to come out."

"No. Silver fragments. Digging blind will make it worse."

"Then what?"

"Pressure. Time. My wolf will push it toward the surface if the dose doesn't stop my heart first."

He said it as if discussing weather.

I tore a strip from the hem of my dress.

"Don't touch the blood," he warned. "There is wolfsbane on the entry wound too."

"You could have mentioned that before smearing it across my sleeve."

I folded the cloth and pressed it against his shoulder.

He hissed.

"Why did you jump in front of me?"

"You are my fiancée."

"I am your prisoner's daughter."

"Same treaty."

"That is a terrible answer."

"It is the one you keep asking for."

His eyes closed.

I tightened the bandage.

The cave grew quiet except for dripping water and his uneven breathing.

I could leave.

Selene might still have allies in the forest. The border was somewhere west. A wounded Fallon could not stop me.

I stood.

At the cave mouth, I could see only trees and pale rock. Freedom might have been a mile away or twenty. The rebels who had tried to kill me might belong to Crescent splinter groups, to the Serpent clan, or to Kael himself if the attack was meant to test Fallon's loyalty. I hated that every path required trusting someone who had already lied.

His hand caught my wrist.

The grip was weak.

"Don't."

I looked down at him.

His eyes had shifted from silver to the bright gold of his wolf.

"Don't what?"

"Leave the cave alone. There are at least three more outside. I can smell them when the wind changes."

That was more sensible than the plea I had expected.

I sat again.

"You thought I was running."

"You were."

"I was considering it."

A rough laugh escaped him.

"At least you are honest when I am half dead."

"Do not flatter yourself."

He leaned his head against the stone.

"Seven days until the wedding."

"If you survive."

"I intend to."

"Disappointing."

His thumb moved once against my wrist, directly over my pulse.

The scar at my throat warmed in answer.

Fallon's gaze sharpened despite the pain.

"You feel it."

I pulled free.

"I feel nothing for you."

"That is not what I said."

Before I could answer, a howl sounded far outside the cave.

Then another.

Obsidian tracking hounds.

Fallon tried to rise and nearly collapsed. I caught his good arm before I could think better of it. His weight settled against me for one unguarded second.

"If you tell anyone I helped you stand, I will deny it."

"Naturally. It would ruin your reputation."

Fallon exhaled. "My father's men found us."

I looked at the bandage darkening over his shoulder.

For reasons I did not understand, relief came first.

Kael's soldiers found us near noon.

They carried Fallon back to the fortress on a litter.

They dragged me to the temple in chains.

Alpha Kael waited beneath the obsidian statue of the Wolf God.

No healer had examined me. No one had asked whether the wolfsbane bolt grazed my cloak or whether I had eaten since dawn the previous day. The contrast was deliberate: Fallon had returned as an injured heir. I had returned as a suspect.

"Convenient ambush," he said. "The rebels knew the exact trail my son would take."

"I was beside him when they fired."

"An excellent way to look innocent."

He grabbed the front of my dress and hauled me partly off my feet.

"Where are the Serpent rebels hiding?"

"If I knew, I would have asked them to aim at you instead."

Kael raised his fist.

The temple doors slammed open.

Fallon entered with fresh bandages strapped across his shoulder. He was pale, unsteady, and furious.

"Put her down."

Kael did not move. "She led them to you."

"No."

"You cannot know that."

"I know where the first bolt was aimed. Her heart. If she planned the attack, she chose assassins who nearly killed her."

Kael's grip loosened.

Fallon stepped between us.

"Touch her again without evidence and we have a different problem."

"You threaten your Alpha over a Crescent woman?"

"I am telling my father not to break the treaty he ordered me to seal."

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Kael laughed.

"Keep your pet close, son. When she puts a knife in your back, remember this conversation."

He left.

Fallon waited until the doors were fully shut, then turned on the temple guards. "Remove the chains."

One hesitated. "Alpha Kael ordered—"

"I heard his order. Remove them."

The guard unlocked my wrists. Red marks circled the skin. Fallon looked at them, jaw tight.

"Why does your father want me guilty so badly?" I asked.

"Because if the Serpent rebels have help inside the fortress, he would rather blame an enemy bride than admit one of his own people betrayed him."

"And what would you rather do?"

"Find the person who fired a silver bullet at my back."

Fallon remained facing the doors until the last guard disappeared.

"I did not ask for your help," I said.

"You never do."

"Because help from you always comes with a lock."

He turned. "Return to the east tower."

"There it is."

His expression hardened. "I am injured, tired, and not in the mood to argue."

"Then stop giving orders."

"Go."

That evening, Fallon's war council met in the central keep.

I waited until the guard rotation changed.

Selene's warning had given me a question. The ambush had given me urgency.

What were Fallon and Kael both hiding about the Moon Festival?

The answer, if it existed, would be in Fallon's study.

I waited another ten minutes after the council bells rang, listening from my tower door. One guard complained about the cold. The other mentioned Fallon had ordered the west gallery cleared for military maps. That confirmed he would be occupied. I had one narrow window, and failure would hand Kael the treason charge he already wanted.

I used a bent stable nail to work the old brass lock.

It took six minutes and one broken fingernail.

The door opened.

I slipped inside.

His study surprised me.

No trophies. No portraits of Kael. No wall of weapons.

Books.

Maps.

Shelves of Crescent histories copied from manuscripts I recognized from our own archives.

Some volumes should not have existed here at all. The original copies had burned in the sanctuary library. These were handwritten transcriptions, dated months before the attack. Fallon had been collecting Crescent records before the war openly began. That could mean preparation for conquest. It could also mean he had known far more about our pack than Kael ever admitted.

I pulled one volume free.

The margins were full of Fallon's handwriting.

Not insults.

Questions.

Why did Crescent close the north pass before Kael's declaration of war?

Who warned Elian about the troop movement?

Why was the Moon Sanctuary burned before the main army arrived?

Beneath that question, he had written a name twice. Garran Voss, Kael's former war master. Executed for insubordination two weeks after the Crescent campaign.

I knew that name. Not from history. From the edge of a memory: a man shouting near the sanctuary gate while Fallon held me behind a stone pillar.

My hands began to shake.

My breathing changed.

He had been investigating the same night I could not remember.

I searched the desk.

Trade ledgers. Patrol reports. Sealed letters.

The bottom drawer was locked separately.

I used the nail again.

The mechanism clicked.

Inside, on dark velvet, lay a single silver amulet attached to a broken chain.

My amulet.

Dried blood crusted the crescent engraving.

I reached for it.

The instant my fingers touched the silver, memory tore through me.

Moon Festival.

Fallon in the woods.

His hands on my face.

"If they find out, my father will use you to get to me."

My own voice, shaking. "Then reject me."

"I can't."

His teeth at my throat.

The mark burning into place.

Then another image.

Sanctuary doors breaking open.

Elian on his knees.

Blood on the stones.

Fallon standing over him with a sword in his hand.

My brother falling.

But the image jumped before the blade struck. I saw Fallon's mouth moving. I saw Elian turn his head. I saw another shadow behind them. The spell had left the memory jagged, and grief had filled the missing pieces with certainty.

I hated uncertainty more than I hated pain.

I dropped to my knees.

The amulet cut into my palm.

He knew.

He had always known.

The doorknob turned behind me.

I froze.

The study door opened.

Fallon stepped inside.

His gaze dropped to the unlocked drawer, then to the bloodstained amulet clenched in my fist.

Neither of us spoke.

For the first time since I entered Obsidian territory, Fallon looked afraid of me.