THE MISSING PAGES

YVONNE POV

Matron Graves stared at me as if she had misunderstood.

"You still intend to wear the dress?"

"No. I intend to let whoever prepared it believe I will."

Relief passed across her face.

"The royal healer will preserve this one as evidence," I continued. "Tomorrow, I will wear another gown."

"They will notice."

"That is the point."

Everyone connected to the silver dress would already be inside Founders' Hall when I entered. Matron Graves would watch the household servants, while Calder's guards watched the doors. Whoever knew about the hidden thread would expect me to arrive wearing it.

The moment they saw another gown, they would realise something had gone wrong.

"Tell Jacinda the dress fits perfectly and that I am pleased with it," I said. "Tomorrow morning, no one enters this suite except you and the royal healer."

Matron Graves nodded. "What about the new gown?"

"Choose three unused dresses from Everstead's ceremonial wardrobe. The healer will inspect them, and a royal guard will keep the one I select until morning."

That would keep me safe without ruining the trap.

Matron Graves turned towards the door, but I stopped her.

"Was Flora already serving Everstead when I was born?"

The question made her uneasy.

"She joined the household several months before your birth," she said. "During the southern border attack, most of the healers were called away. Flora was sent to help on the maternity floor."

"What did she do there?"

"She kept the emergency register. Everyone who entered the floor between sunset and dawn had to write down their name, pack and reason for being there."

Flora had been close to the room where Lillian exchanged Jacinda and me. Twenty-one years later, she had tried to make sure I never returned.

"Where is the register?"

"In the family archive."

"Bring it to me. Tell no one which record you are looking for."

Matron Graves hesitated. "Not even Alpha Aldric?"

"Not until we know who else was involved."

After a moment, she lowered her head. "Understood."

A knock sounded shortly after she left.

"Yvonne?" Calder called from the corridor. "The healer is with me."

Neither of them entered until I gave permission.

The healer placed a black evidence case on the table and pulled on thick gloves. Using metal tongs, she lifted the dress from the box and examined the stitching around the collar, cuffs and waist.

"This is moon-silver wire," she said. "Pure silver drawn so thin that it looks like ordinary thread."

Calder's expression hardened. "What would it have done to her?"

"Once the fabric warmed against her body, the silver would begin burning her skin. The pain would weaken her connection to Nyx. If Alpha Aldric called her wolf forward during the ceremony, she might become trapped between her human and wolf forms."

Nyx growled inside me.

The healer carefully returned the dress to the evidence case. "More likely, she would collapse before completing the shift. Everyone watching would believe she could not control her wolf."

That was the real purpose. They did not need to kill me if they could make Everstead's elders reject me.

"Can the silver be traced?" I asked.

"Wire this fine is only produced by pack armouries and licensed foundries. Every length should have a maker's mark."

She showed us one end of the thread. The metal had been scraped smooth.

"Someone removed it," Calder said.

The healer nodded. "Whoever supplied the wire knew it could lead back to them."

She sealed the case with the Crown's mark. Calder ordered one of his guards to examine Everstead's armoury records before contacting the outside foundries.

"No one in the household can know what you are searching for," I warned.

The guard bowed. "Understood."

After he left, I explained my plan for the ceremony. Matron Graves would watch the servants when I entered in the new gown, while the royal guards followed anyone who tried to leave.

Calder folded his arms. "You are still placing yourself in the centre of the trap."

"I will be inside a guarded hall wearing a dress your healer has inspected."

"That does not mean I have to like it."

"I did not plan it for your comfort."

His eyes flashed gold, but he did not attempt to overrule me.

"The healer remains beside the ceremony circle," he said. "If she tells me you are in danger, I will stop the ceremony."

"Agreed." My answer appeared to surprise him. "I know how to compromise," I said.

"When it gives you what you want."

"That is usually the purpose." I said.

A faint smile touched his mouth before his attention dropped to my hands.

My fingers were shaking again.

I closed them into fists, but the healer noticed. She took my wrist and checked my pulse.

"The wolfsbane has not completely left your body," she said. "Nyx is recovering, but she is still weaker than she should be."

"I have until tomorrow morning."

"Food and rest will help, but your wolf must complete a full shift during the ceremony. There is another way to strengthen her before then."

Her gaze moved towards Calder.

I already disliked the answer. "What way?"

"Direct contact with your mate will allow Nyx to draw some strength through the bond. It will not remove the wolfsbane, but a few minutes may help steady her."

I pulled my wrist from her hand. "I will consider it."

The healer did not argue. She carried the evidence case into the corridor, leaving Calder and me alone.

He did not offer his hand.

Instead, he looked towards the untouched tray Matron Graves had left near the fireplace. "You should eat."

"I have been occupied."

"Does plotting against your enemies require starvation?"

"It prevents me from becoming too comfortable."

Calder studied me. "You speak as if comfort is dangerous."

For me, it always had been. Lillian's kindness usually meant she wanted something. A warm meal from Holloway often came before an order I could not refuse. Even Everstead's welcome had arrived with silver hidden inside a dress.

Something in my expression must have answered him because his amusement disappeared.

"Sit with me," he said. "That is a request."

He took one of the chairs beside the fire and waited.

Nyx moved restlessly inside me. 'We need our strength.'

'I know.'

'Then stop being stubborn.'

I sat opposite Calder. He poured tea and pushed the plate towards me without commenting on my decision. I tore off a piece of bread and ate slowly.

"Do Lycan Kings often serve food to injured rogues?" I asked.

"Only the stubborn ones." He chuckled.

"Then you must have plenty of experience."

"None. Most wolves are sensible enough not to argue with me."

"That sounds lonely." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Calder became still, since I met him, the power surrounding him quietened completely.

"Sometimes," he admitted.

That one word made him seem less like the king every wolf feared and more like a man who had spent too long being obeyed by people who never truly knew him.

I understood that kind of loneliness.

"I did not mean to pity you."

"Good. I would hate that." His gaze remained on mine. "You are the first person in years to notice what the crown costs me."

"I was not trying to."

"That is probably why I answered."

When I finished eating, I placed the cup on the table and looked at my trembling fingers.

The ceremony would decide whether I had a place in Everstead's succession. I would not allow my pride to leave Nyx too weak to appear.

I held my hand out across the space between us.

"Five minutes."

Calder looked at my hand, then at me. There was no victory in his expression.

"Your hand only," I added. "You do not pull me closer, and you let go when I ask."

"Your hand, your rules."

He placed his palm beneath mine. The mate bond came alive immediately.

Heat travelled through my fingers and up my injured arm. Nyx moved towards Calder's strength, drawing it through the bond. Her presence became clearer inside me, and the weakness that had held her down began to ease.

I had accepted his touch because I needed Nyx ready for tomorrow. It was a practical decision.

That did not explain why my body relaxed when his fingers closed around mine.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little." I said, with a gloomy expression.

"You sound disappointed."

"I do not like needing anything from you."

"Then do not call it need. You chose to take my hand, and you can choose when to let it go."

I looked down at our joined hands.

Choice was what Calder had offered me from the beginning, even when the bond demanded more from him.

"You have only seen me injured or fighting someone," I said. "You do not know who I am without that."

"Neither do you, from the sound of it."

I raised my eyes to his.

"I would like the chance to find out," he said.

He was not asking me to become softer or easier to control. He wanted to know who I might be when I no longer had to fight for everything.

The thought frightened me.

When I pulled my hand away, Calder released me immediately. He made no attempt to hold on.

Before either of us could speak, someone knocked sharply.

Matron Graves entered carrying a thick leather ledger. She locked the door behind her before placing it on the table.

"This is the emergency register from the year you were born."

She opened it near the middle.

Two pages had been cut from the binding.

"The missing section covers the night of the southern attack," she said. "Every person who entered the maternity floor between sunset and dawn was recorded on these pages."

Calder moved closer. "When were they removed?"

"Since yesterday morning. I checked the register while preparing the records for Yvonne's blood ceremony. The pages were still here."

Someone had removed them after I arrived.

"Who can enter the archive?" I asked.

"The Alpha family, the head archivist and the three senior matrons. Every key is recorded when it is used."

"Show us the key record."

Matron Graves swallowed. "It is missing too."

Silence filled the room.

The person responsible knew which pages to destroy and how to erase the proof that they had entered the archive.

Calder examined the thin pieces of paper left beside the stitching. He used the tip of a small blade to lift a torn corner trapped beneath the thread.

A faded red symbol remained on it.

A crescent moon.

Matron Graves stared at the mark. "Wolves from outside territories were required to stamp their pack symbol beside their names."

Calder's expression changed.

"What pack does this belong to?" I asked.

"Bloodmoon."

Matron Graves stepped backwards. "Bloodmoon wolves have been forbidden from entering Everstead for more than twenty years."

Yet one of them had been inside the maternity ward on the night I was stolen.

Calder looked towards the window. "Something is wrong somewhere."