Esme leaned back just enough to search his face, her brows drawing together in confusion at his unexpected question.

"W– what do you mean?" she asked softly, her voice faltering. "I don't have–" she stopped herself and drew in a slow breath, then she tried again. "There's still no proof that I do have one, nothing solid at least. And even if I did… why would my wolf hate you? You and I are bonded, and that's not something that can be undone. But why are you asking?"

Donovan remained silent.

Esme couldn't understand where that question came from, but his silence unsettled her most. The moment became still, and charged with something ancient. Then, she saw it; a shimmer, faint but not mistakable, glinting like firelight in his eyes. The shade of his eyes were glowing, and her breath caught when she realized his wolf was rising again.

"Don?" She whispered his name, sounding worried and more wary of the unsettling change. "Are you alright?"

As though trying to clear the fog in his mind, he shook his head slightly. After he blinked, his eyes met hers again, and the glow had dimmed. Esme could still feel the presence of his wolf trying to claw its way back in, and it was uncharacteristically persistent on taking over tonight.

"Don?"

"Did you feel that?" He asked. As much as he knew how stubborn his wolf can be, it was oddly desperate to take over him today. That could only mean that whatever he felt, his wolf did too. The fleeting presence of whatever that was had stirred something wild and possessive in him, to the point his wolf had surged forward to claim it. If he hadn't controlled himself on time, he'd be marking Esme all over again, and for a different reason that only his wolf seemed to be aware of.

He couldn't explain what that presence was. Only that it had felt real– so real– like he had sensed her wolf but barely, and now its absence left a strange, aching hollowness in his chest.

Could it really be?

"Don, are you alright?" Esme asked again as she reached a hand out to cup his cheek. She guided his face toward her until their eyes met. "Did something happen?"

For a moment, Donovan considered telling her what he just felt, the distance that had been inexplicably created between Esme and his spirit wolf. But before the words could leave his lips, he paused.

It didn't feel right to burden her any further, not when she hadn't even had a moment to catch her breath. He would speak of it, eventually, but during the trip tomorrow. Tonight was going to be stress free for his Esme, and he had no intention of ruining that. Once again, he'd have to save the ring for later.

"It's nothing, I was just lost in thought," he murmured. "I was thinking about what you said yesterday and phrased my question poorly. If your wolf truly despised me, I doubt the bond between us would've formed in the first place."

Before Esme could press him further on the matter, he turned and opened the door. The quiet click of the latch broke the tension like a sigh, and only then did she realize he had already brought her back to her chamber. He carefully helped her down to her feet, his hands lingering as if reluctant to let go.

"Don't take too long getting ready," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Your food shouldn't wait as patiently as I have."

"But are you sure everything is okay?" Esme asked again. She wasn't ready to let the question go, not when she felt there was something he wasn't telling her about. What she had seen the moment she closed her eyes came before his question, and it really had her thinking if what she saw had anything to do with what he asked.

Instead of answering, Donovan placed both his hands gently on either side of her face, his thumb grazing her cheeks. He then leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough for her to feel the unspoken promise behind it.

"Everything will be," he assured her. "Have a warm bath, get dressed, breathe, and eat. If you don't come down soon, I'm afraid Althea will charge up here. That side of her isn't something I can protect you from."

Esme managed a smile. Doubt still lingered beneath the surface, but she trusted that, whatever he was hiding, he'd reveal it in his own time. When she gave a quiet nod, he took it as his cue to leave, stepping out of the chamber to grant her the privacy she needed.

The room felt heavier in his absence, but it felt good to be back, even if it was for the night alone.

Sighing, she turned toward the mirror and reached for the pin holding up her hair. She slipped it free, letting the strands tumble over her shoulder.

The length had crept her collarbones again, the soft, blue waves brushing her skin. Running her fingers through it, she reflected on how quickly it had grown. She hadn't minded it short– it was easier to look after, lighter, but then a part of her wondered…

Did Donovan prefer long hair? Would he like it if her hair returned to its former length?

The thought made her smile, and then she scoffed at herself. This wasn't the time to think about such ridiculous matters anyway.

Shaking off the notion, she picked up her hairbrush from the dressing table and began to comb. The repetitive motion offered a moment of calm– until something in the mirror shifted.

Like a ripple across still water, the reflection distorted, and before Esme could understand what she was seeing, her eyes in the glass mirror glowed– a radiant, unmistakable gold. Instinctively, her hand found her chest, near her heart region, and a strange feeling overwhelmed her insides.

"What was–"

She froze, and her breath caught. The image of her in the mirror appeared to be glaring at her, and Esme never knew she could look that scary with a glare, or was it the eyes? Blinking rapidly, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, as if it might undo the impossible. But when she looked again, the mirror had returned to normal. It felt as if something else had disrupted it, but Esme chose to believe it was purely her own imagination.

Her gaze lingered on the mirror, with just her own face staring right back at her, as if it hadn't been glaring at her a couple seconds ago. She half-expected the vision to return, but the calm surface of the mirror gave nothing away.

"Am I going mad?"

She wondered out loud. Was it simply a coincidence that all these strange flickers, dreams, hallucinations– had worsened after the encounter she had with the true bearer at the inn. Did he manage to find his way into her head? Or was he serious about the wolf? Ever since then, her sense of reality had frayed at the edges, and she had no idea what to believe anymore.

If she wanted these haunting games to stop, she'd have to regain control. Because if she didn't, she might actually go mad.

Turning her attention to the brush in her hand, Esme immediately dropped it when she realized it had melted.

Downstairs…

Archeron was hung over a long parchment he held, carefully marking down every supply and detail for their upcoming journey to Mariana.

He was so engrossed in the logistics that he didn't notice the others had gathered at the dining table as well. Not until Althea snatched the parchment right from under his nose. The startled expression he made vanished when he realized it had been Althea who took them.

"You can deal with this after dinner," she announced, sauntering off with the list in her hand. Archeron didn't care about that anymore, as he was more focused on her health and how she was returning back to the Althea they all knew again.

When Althea took charge at the dining table, there was no room for argument. As long as she was the one who prepared the meal, not even Donovan dared to challenge her when it came to keeping everyone healthy.

Donovan, who was already seated, glanced toward Revana as she eased into her seat beside Leonardo.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, his tone casual but edged with concern. He couldn't resist adding, "Taking a punch from the real puppet master himself must've been… memorable."

Revana grunted, lifting her goblet before muttering under her breath. "That bastard nearly cracked my rib."

She paused, then smirked. "Almost. Caught me off-guard to be more precise. But if I had been ready, I'd have gotten a hit or two. Honestly, entering combat with someone like that would be the worst mistake to make. He's lived for how many years now? You can imagine how much experience he has already."

She dropped the goblet on the table. "Figuring out a way to get rid of him without help from the king would be a struggle, wouldn't it?"

"We don't need the king alone," Leonardo replied, leaning back slightly, the firelight casting shadows across his handsome features. "It's not just the king we need to end this. We need every border, every fractured faction to stand together."

He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued. "So far, the only places we hold sway are the North and the Land of the Damned. Everywhere else? Likely turning their backs on us. But one thing I do know is that– sooner or later, we'll all be forced to face the cost of our division. Maybe only when enough lives have been lost will we finally stop pretending we can face this alone. By tomorrow, we'll know if we're truly one step ahead, or too many steps behind to ever catch up."

"It's not like attempts weren't made," Donovan murmured. "Esme went there. They were attacked on the way, but what did she get after making it to the palace? I never trusted that king of yours, and he's too much of a self-centered man to let go of his egos. We've given them a chance, and now whatever happens will be their fault, and their cross to carry alone."