Chapter 5 The Truth Beneath My Name

QUINN'S POV

The stone floor of my tower room was spotless by the time the first pale rays of morning sun hit the high window.

My knees were raw, throbbing with a dull ache from pressing against the stone for hours, and my fingers were prune-like and stinging from dipping them repeatedly into soapy water.

But the room felt like mine now. Cleaning it had given me something solid to hold onto while everything else around me fell apart.

A sharp, double knock echoed off the heavy wood before the iron bolt slid back with a loud, ringing scrape.

I stood up immediately, smoothing my crumpled dress and brushing dust off my skirts as the door swung open. I expected to see the guard bringing another bucket of fresh water, or perhaps Breck stomping in with another tray of food he wanted to yell at me about.

Instead, it was Silas Vane.

He stepped into the room with quiet, measured grace, his boots making almost no sound against the scrubbed floor.

He wasn't wearing his heavy military armor today, just a dark, high-collared coat buttoned neatly to his chin. Under his arm, he carried a thin, dark leather folder bound with a fading velvet ribbon.

Silas didn't yell, and he didn't try to intimidate me with his physical size the way Breck did. He simply stood near the doorway, his pale, sharp eyes taking in every single detail of the small space.

He looked at the scrubbed floorboards. He looked at the neatly folded blanket on the narrow bed. Then, his eyes rested on me, lingering on my pale face and the silver hair I had carefully draped over my shoulders.

"You've been busy," Silas said softly. His voice was calm, almost pleasant, but there was a sharp, dangerous edge underneath it that made my skin prickle.

"I don't like sitting in dirt," I replied, keeping my back straight and my voice steady despite the rapid thudding of my heart.

Silas walked further into the room, stopping a few feet away. He pulled the wooden chair out from the small table and sat down, resting the dark leather folder across his knees.

He gestured toward the bed with a slender, pale hand. "Sit down, Quinn. I am not here to yell at you." I hesitated for a second, my muscles tense, before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I forced my face to stay completely blank. In many ways, Silas scared me far more than Kade or Breck.

Kade ruled with cold authority, and Breck acted out of explosive anger. But Silas acted out of pure calculation. He didn't make a move without a reason, and I couldn't read a single thing behind those pale, unblinking eyes.

"Why are you here, Commander Vane?" I asked, folding my hands tightly in my lap to hide their trembling.

"I came to ask you a question," he said, untying the ribbon on the folder. "And for your own sake, I suggest you give me an honest answer."

"I haven't lied since I got here," I said quietly, staring straight at him. "Nobody has bothered to ask for my side of the story anyway."

Silas tilted his head, acknowledging my words with a faint, polite nod. "Fair enough. Then answer me this: who was your mother?"

The air in the room went completely still. A cold drop of sweat ran down my spine, making me shudder.

"You already know what everyone says," I said, my voice hardening as I reached up and pulled my silver hair further forward over my neck.

"Your brothers made that very clear in the courtyard. She was a disgraceful wanderer who died giving birth to me and dumped me on Alpha Garrick's doorstep like trash."

"I didn't ask what my brothers said," Silas countered smoothly, his pale gaze locking onto mine with terrifying focus. "And I didn't ask what Alpha Garrick told his household to keep you in your place. I am asking you. What do you remember about her? What did the servants tell you when no one else was listening?"

"Nothing," I snapped, my hands tightening into fists against my dress. "I don't remember anything. I was a baby. Why does it matter to you now? You've already decided I'm a ruined servant who isn't fit to be your Luna.”

Silas didn't get angry at my outburst. He didn't even flinch. He just reached into his leather folder and pulled out an old, yellowed piece of heavy paper.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned it toward me. It was a detailed sketch, a hand-drawn portrait of a young woman with pale silver hair, delicate features, and a faint crescent-shaped birthmark sitting right at the base of her neck.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the paper, the blood draining completely from my face until I felt dizzy. The woman in the drawing looked almost identical to me.

"This drawing comes from a sealed file in Ironvale's deep archives," Silas said, watching my reaction like a hawk calculating its next move. "A file about a moon-blessed noble bloodline that was supposed to have been completely wiped out twenty years ago."

He stood up slowly, closing the folder with a soft thud, but keeping his eyes fixed on my pale, trembling face.

"Someone lied about who you are, Quinn," Silas whispered, his voice low and full of a quiet, dark promise. "And before this week is over, I am going to find out why."

“What…what do you mean by that?” I asked, not knowing how to comprehend what I had just heard. Silas just stared at me for a long moment, his eyes never leaving mine.

“We'll find out soon enough, Quinn. I promise you that.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the heavy iron door slamming shut behind him with a deafening clank.

I sat alone in the dim light, my hand pressed tightly against the hidden crescent mark on my neck, shivering as I realized the massive lie that had ruled my entire life was finally starting to come out.