CHAPTER 307: A MEETING III

If my mind had been buzzing before, it practically roared now. We talked into details about the plan to infiltrate the pack, by gaining the trust of the triplets.

The queen had even suggested that I flirt with them if necessary to get the mission done, that she would talk with her son after this so that he wouldn’t be taken unawares.

Her tone was calm, but her eyes held that glint that told me she wasn’t joking—she never joked when it came to strategy. My smirk faltered when she leaned back, fingers drumming the arm of her chair, and began outlining what I had only heard in whispers.

"The combat season is brutal," she said, voice low, like she was reciting something etched into her bones. "It stretches for two weeks, sometimes longer, depending on how many contestants survive the stages. You win, you advance. You lose, you are cast out. If you survive the bruises, that is."

So far, so good.

But she wasn’t done.

"The first rounds are simple duels, steel against steel, magic where permitted. But as the stages progress, the rules twist—sometimes you fight in teams, sometimes blindfolded, sometimes in the dark. The triplets are fond of creativity, and fond of blood. Eventually, when all others have fallen, the winner faces the beast."

My brows arched. "The beast?"

Her lips curled in distaste. "A werewolf, permitted to shift, permitted to tear. It is their way of reminding the rest of us who hold dominance. A spectacle of savagery. Daytime combat, of course. The sun keeps the vampires at bay, always has."

At the mention of vampires, my curiosity won over. "Why are they so interested in the Lycans’ region anyway?"

For a moment, the queen’s eyes sharpened, her chin tilting in suspicion. "Are you wavering already?"

I laughed, shaking my head, strands of hair brushing my cheek. "Hardly. Just curious. If I’m to risk my life in their den, I should know what gnaws at the edges of it."

She studied me, then leaned back again, fingers now tapping slower. "Minerals. Precious ones. They grow only in werewolf soil, it seems. Crystals that can restore life to a vampire’s veins, or so they believe. And more... they say the stones can let them walk beneath the sun."

I felt my stomach lurch. The thought alone sparked too many possibilities.

The idea of vampires walking in daylight—it was the sort of nightmare one only whispered about in ballads or taverns. If it proved true, the world would tilt on its axis.

My mind raced. If they could walk under the sun, they’d no longer be shadows. They’d be rivals. Equal predators in both day and night. And worse still—if the minerals failed to restore life, but succeeded in granting them that one freedom, wouldn’t it spark something worse than hunger? Ruthlessness? War?

I found myself blurting, "Has it been confirmed? This mineral... is it truly what they claim?"

The queen only shrugged, like we were discussing fabric colors. Her indifference was state of art. "Does it matter? We can keep ourselves safe. Should war come, we can weather it. Both of us can."

I nodded, excitement washing the dread away. My body thrummed with an energy I couldn’t contain. Soon, I would be back in the pack’s land. Soon, I would see for myself.

"How are you settling in?" the queen asked suddenly, tilting her head with that knowing smile.

"Very well," I answered, meaning it. "Do you want to test me? See if Freda’s work has held?" I arched a brow, my voice teasing.

Her eyes glinted. "Wait at the field where we trained those years ago. I’ll join you shortly."

I laughed, rising with a mock salute. "As you command, my queen." And with that, I stalked out of the room, my steps light with anticipation.

Just as I neared the common room of the queen’s residence, however, voices hushed abruptly. Rachel. And her brothers.

They stood clustered together, their heads bent close, words low and sharp until they sensed me. Then silence. Their eyes turned, three sets of gazes pinning me in place.

I folded my arms, a smile playing on my lips still. "Are you plotting my demise?"

They laughed–well, except Rachel, shaking their heads at my overactive imagination.

Raul strode over, his grin warm as ever. He kissed the crown of my head, lingering long enough for me to catch the faint scent of cedar on his tunic.

Rachel, though—Rachel didn’t laugh. Her face was a blank mask, her eyes searching mine like a mirror held up to a storm. We stared at each other, a standoff stretching taut as a bowstring.

Six years. That was how long it had been since I last truly stood before her. Had she forgiven me for cutting her off from her family? Did she still clutch those grudges from the past?

Before the questions could root deeper, she broke the tension. Laughter spilled from her lips—surprising, rich—and she flung her arms around me in a hug that smelled faintly of rosewater.

I stiffened–the hell?--then let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The notion of her animosity dissolved, though not completely. I was too careful now, too seasoned to trust without caution. Not in this third chance at life.

"How has life at the Isles treated you? And school?" she asked, her hand sliding into the crook of my arm as though we had never parted, as we’ve always been friends.

What had the Queen told her that made her... friendly?

"Not bad," I said with a shrug.

Rachel’s smile sharpened. "Good. Because I have something for you."

Before I could blink, she tugged me out of the common room, away from her brothers, her grip firm and determined.

"I have training with your mother," I protested lightly, half-laughing as she all but dragged me along.

"It can wait."

Her chambers welcomed us, and she threw herself onto her bed like a queen in her own right. I hovered near the door, skeptical. "So why am I here?"

"To give you a rundown," she replied, stretching lazily. "The current state of the community. The pack. You need to know."

Okay, she was aware of my mission. What then?