CHAPTER 78: CHAPTER 78: VENOMOUS MAID

IVAN’S POV

The next few days were bearable only because they had to be.

I forced myself back into the rhythm of council meetings, paperwork, endless reports—anything that gave the illusion of control.

The council hearing had permanently left a bad aftertaste in my mouth. Though the days dulled the memory of its finer details, it wasn’t so easy to erase the grueling weight of the council’s collective eyes on me.

They watched me like I was a ticking timebomb, and with every bloody second, I played the part of the soft-smiling, decent Alpha—sweet to his mother, a gentleman to his supposed Luna, and painfully sober.

It seemed my active presence was enough to quiet the rumors for now. No one dared mention the Rabid Wolf to my face, though I could still feel the whispers floating behind closed doors whenever I passed.

The maids still scattered when they saw me coming. The guards stiffened so hard they forgot how to breathe. Just what exactly had Nina told them?

Of all the things that had occurred within the chambers of the council hearing, she was the puzzle I had no answer to.

The moonstone, in all its supposed excellence, hadn’t picked up on the lies she spewed in my name—all without a clear motivation I could yet discern.

I hadn’t summoned her, as Francis had advised, to lock her in a cell and grill her until she revealed if she was a spy or a witch.

Instead, I’d tasked Francis with running a thorough background check: who she was, where she came from, when she met Maeve, and what kind of threat she might pose to Ash Creek.

Even then, knowing Francis was on top of the situation wasn’t enough to quiet the itch gnawing at the back of my mind. Call it an Alpha’s instinct—or that of a paranoid man—but it told me I was missing something.

Maybe I feared more what that something might be, because I ignored it, shoved it off the lens of my existence rather than dig too deep.

But ignoring it never eased the itch. It never quieted the question that repeated endlessly in my head: was Maeve involved in this somehow?

When I wasn’t with the council, I buried myself in my study. Page after page, parchment after parchment, as though endless ink and signatures could outweigh the clawing in my chest.

Serena had been the happiest I’d seen her in weeks, breezing into my office more times than I liked, bringing me tea and coffee, and all sorts of concoctions brewed from expensive herbs—none of which ever offered the soothing effect she promised.

I hated every second of the tight smiles, the perfectly timed hums of agreement, the too-loud laughter. Nothing grated my tongue worse than pretending to laugh at Serena’s godawful jokes.

But Francis swore every bit of this hell was required. Humor the council, humor Vance Montrose, and when you sit on the throne, their rules be damned.

It was tedious. Suffocating. But each time I nearly ripped Serena’s fingers off for grazing my cheek, I reminded myself that even patience was a blade when manned with strategy.

Too often, though, my mind wandered to Asha. I’d stayed away from him for a while, refusing to subject his innocence to the scrutiny I was under by dragging him into the limelight with me.

Still, he was the tether that kept me steady—the one who, without even knowing it, brought streaks of sunlight into my cloudiest moments. The one who lit up my face with a smile in the most idle of times.

I missed him fiercely. Missed the way his laugh could split the heaviness in my chest. Missed the simple act of holding his small hand in mine.

I’d have endured Maeve’s sweet bites of acid and her colder stares if that was what it took to be with him longer. As long as Asha was close, I could survive anything.

But I’d also been keeping my distance from Maeve—by choice. Staying half a dozen feet back, walls raised high, eyes fixed coldly ahead whenever we crossed paths in the hallways, pretending her presence didn’t send my blood rushing hot and cold at once.

Ignoring her was safer. For both of us. It kept her from lashing out, spitting words that cut deeper than silver. It kept me from hoping for things I had no right to.

And most of all, it kept things peaceful—for now.

Still, thoughts of her crept in when I least wanted them.

Her refusal. Her second-chance mate, waiting somewhere the longer I wasted time. The possibility that she might take my son and vanish the moment the bond finally broke.

The kind of thoughts that made my fists clench tight enough to ache.

So I shoved them down. Thought of Asha instead.

My eyes landed on the gift waiting at the corner of my desk—a wooden craft board shaped for children.

I’d ordered it days ago, a small thing that had made me think of him instantly when I’d seen it in the catalogue.

The board had arrived this morning, complete with corny little fish keychains dangling from its hook string.

I picked it up, running my fingers over the polished surface. It was ridiculous, really, how something so small could stir warmth in me.

But I could already see his smile—the unguarded, bright one that belonged only to him.

I wanted to give it to him now.

The warmth it sparked in my chest was too soothing to resist. It couldn’t hurt to leave my desk, sneak in a little time with my little boy.

Hopefully, he’d be happy to see me. Hopefully.

I rose, carrying the board with me down the corridor, following the familiar pull of his presence. But when I reached his chambers, I slowed.

Maeve’s door was wide open. Normally, it was locked.

She wasn’t inside—I couldn’t feel her presence. But Asha was. And he wasn’t alone.

I stepped past the threshold, careful, my eyes scanning the room, claws on the verge of unsheathing at the slightest hint of danger. A few paces in, and I froze.

There were voices. An argument. One that was growing heated by the second.

Slowly, with stealth, I watched the horror unfold.

A maid, dressed to royal perfection, stood glowering furiously down at a trembling Asha, whose soulful eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

My wolf surged up, but not in the wild rage I expected—it was anguish, a desperate howl clawing at me as our little pup was cornered like prey in a predator’s den.