Shadowclaw Housing
The dormitory was nothing like the Ashbane servant wings.
Clean. Quiet. Soft light flickered from crystal sconces. No chains. No blood.
Mary walked without speaking until they reached a modest wooden door with a silver plate marked Omega Suite 3B.
"You'll rise at dawn," Mary said. "Check in at the infirmary for your tonic, then breakfast. Class starts at seven. Training begins at nine. You'll receive your duty schedule after that."
Nova blinked. "Class?"
She looked at Nova. "All underage wolves in this territory receive training. Combat, education, etiquette. Rank doesn't exempt you."
She opened the door and gestured inside.
Nova stepped into a small, clean room with two beds. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, warm light dancing over the stone walls. The air smelled of pine and soap — not mildew, not iron, not fear.
It was, by a mile, the nicest room she had ever stayed in.
A private bathing chamber stood off to the right, steam still curling faintly beneath its door. Fresh linens were folded neatly at the foot of each bed. The window was narrow but open to the night air, cool and gentle against her skin.
Between the beds sat a modest wooden desk with a small stack of books arranged with surprising care.
Someone was already there.
A girl sat cross-legged on the nearest bed, a book open in her lap. She looked up the moment Nova entered — eyes sharp with curiosity.
In an instant, her expression softened.
She closed her book without a sound.
Thick dark red wavy hair fell to her waist. Her eyes were hazel-green, her mouth soft, her face… striking. But not in a way that tried to be. She had the kind of beauty that made people whisper and resent her for it.
"Nova," Mary said, "this is Elle Varrin."
The girl blinked, then offered a small smile. "Hello."
Nova hesitated, then nodded. "Hello."
Mary left without another word.
Elle stood and gestured to the second bed. "That one's yours. If you need anything, I've got extras."
Nova sat carefully on the mattress, still stiff.
"You're new too?" she asked.
Elle nodded. "Couple months. My pack was wiped out. Rouges. Alpha Shadowclaw took me in."
Nova swallowed, her throat tightening with the familiar sting of loss — not her own pack, but something older, deeper, bone-deep. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "That must have been… horrible."
Elle's mouth tilted in a wry smile. "Well, it wasn't a spa retreat."
Nova blinked — then let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
Elle glanced at her, satisfied. "Don't look so guilty. You didn't swing the blades."
Nova's gaze dropped to her hands. "No," she murmured. "But I've lived around enough to know the cost."
Elle studied her for a long, assessing second — not pitying, not prying, simply recognizing something familiar.
Then she nodded once. Approval. Quiet and real.
"It was nice of Alpha Shadowclaw to take you in," Nova said softly.
Elle shrugged. "He's one of the good ones."
Something in her tone, light but certain, eased a thread of tension in Nova's spine. She exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders drop. Silence hovered for a moment, not heavy, just unfamiliar.
Her gaze traveled over Nova — not rudely, but with the unerring precision of someone who missed nothing. The bruises. The thinness. The silver-burned wrists.
Elle set her book aside gently on the bed.
"Well," she said, voice warm but edged. "That explains the whispers."
Nova stiffened. "Wh-whispers?"
Elle tilted her head. "Darling, the entire Omega wing is a kettle about to boil over. Half say you're cursed. The other half insist you're here to seduce the Alpha."
A tiny pause.
"I told them both groups were idiots."
Nova blinked, stunned. "I… I wouldn't even know how to seduce anyone."
Elle's eyes softened — truly softened — before her mouth curved.
"Oh, sweetheart. You don't have to know how. Men tend to trip over themselves without instruction." She gestured at Nova's hair with a flick of her fingers. "Especially when a girl walks in looking like a half-starved moon goddess."
Nova flushed hard. "I'm not— I don't— I'm just an omega."
Elle arched a perfectly shaped brow.
"No, you're something. I don't know what yet. But I can promise you the omegas sent to us do not look like you, speak like you, or stand like you even when shaking like a leaf." Her gaze dipped to Nova's wrists. "And they certainly weren't wearing silver when they arrived."
Nova flinched, pulling her hands instinctively closer to her chest.
Elle's tone shifted — smooth, dagger-soft.
Not pity. Not softness.
Protection wearing high heels.
"Whoever did that to you," she said calmly, "will not find the same courage here."
Then, musing,
"Though if they try, I call first swing. Just putting that on record."
It was ridiculous. Stupid. Barely even a joke. But it tugged a short, startled breath of laughter out of Nova. Elle's eyes lit instantly, triumphant.
"There it is," she said. "I was starting to think you were carved out of stone."
Nova shook her head, a reluctant smile threatening the corner of her mouth. "I've had a long day."
Nova looked up then, really looked, and for the first time since waking she felt something close to steady. Elle wasn't prying. She wasn't flinching from Nova's past. She was just… offering a place to land.
"I'm glad you're here," Elle said simply, as if stating a fact rather than offering comfort.
Nova swallowed, the warmth of the words startling in its gentleness. "I'm… glad you're here too."
Elle beamed, already deciding things without asking. "Good. Then we're friends. I'd have declared it anyway, but it's nice to have your agreement."
Nova let out a soft huff of breath that might have been another laugh. "You move fast."
Elle flopped back onto her mattress, hands tucked under her head. "Only with the people who look like they need it."
Nova eased back against the wall at her bedside, still stiff, still unsure of the world she'd fallen into… but suddenly, not entirely alone. Not anymore.
Friendship, it seemed, had arrived faster than fear could chase it off.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Their bonding was short-lived.
The next morning, they were both summoned to Princess Meredith's wing.
The room was extravagant with all pale silks and warm firelight. There were perfume bottles glinting in the morning sun.
Meredith stood at her vanity in a white robe trimmed with gold thread, brushing her hair like she didn't have an audience.
She didn't turn right away. When she finally did, her eyes landed on Nova — and something in her expression fractured.
The brush stilled mid-stroke.
"You."
The word was low. Flat. Lethal.
Nova held her ground.
Meredith's lips parted in a cold smile. "I hoped you'd died."
No one responded. Elle glanced at Nova, visibly confused.
Meredith stepped forward with unhurried grace, like a predator circling something that had already lost.
"You have her eyes," she murmured, gaze drifting down Nova's face. "That same vacant, pathetic look. I wonder if she screamed when my mother opened her throat."
Elle tensed beside her, but Nova didn't move. Didn't blink.
Meredith's smile sharpened. "Do you still wake up crying at night for your dead whore of a mother?"
Nova felt something split inside her — but she didn't let it show.
"I do," Meredith continued, softly now. "Not for her. For mine. For what she became because of you."
Suddenly — without warning — Meredith stormed across the room.
Before Nova could react, a hand slammed against her throat, shoving her back into the wall.
Elle gasped, stepping forward — but Meredith turned her head just enough to snap: "Don't."
Nova's back hit cold stone. The princess's fingers tightened around her neck — not choking, but enough to threaten.
"Don't think being here makes you safe," Meredith hissed. "You're not free. You're a scar. A slave born of a whore. A living, breathing stain. And if you ever speak to me, look at me, or so much as breathe wrong near me again…"
She leaned closer, smile widening.
"I'll finish what my mother started." Meredith spit in Nova's face and squeezed her neck harder so Nova was seeing spots.
Meredith leaned closer, her breath hot against Nova's cheek. Her fingers pressed tighter around Nova's throat, until spots danced at the edges of her vision.
"You ruined my family and now you're trying to ruin my life. You are worthless ugly slut. I hope you're raped by every warrior here and die a painful death. Don't forget your place."
Nova's pulse thundered in her ears — but her face didn't change. Her eyes stayed locked on Meredith's, steady. Unblinking.
And then Meredith stepped back, smoothing her hair with delicate fingers, smile returning as if nothing had happened.
"Or else… your throat will be slit as fast as you spread your legs."
Nova's voice came out low. Calm. Almost amused.
"Careful, Princess. Your crown's slipping."
Meredith froze.
A single beat passed — long and electric.
Then—
CRACK.
Meredith's backhand slammed across Nova's face.
Nova's head whipped to the side. The impact sent her sprawling to the ground, ribs screaming as she hit the marble hard. Blood bloomed on her lower lip, silver, hot and metallic.
Her breathing was shallow. She didn't cry. Didn't speak. Didn't move.
Meredith stood over her for a moment, chest rising and falling with fury. Then she turned to the steward without looking back.
"Remove her from my presence."
The steward finally found his voice. "Princess—"
"Get. Her. Out."
He bowed and motioned to the door.
Meredith turned back toward the vanity, calm once more. "And don't let her in my sight moving forward. Either of them."
The door shut behind them with a soft click. Nova didn't speak for a while after they left Meredith's wing.
She didn't cry. Didn't shake.
But she walked stiffly, her steps measured, as if every movement reminded her that she was still here — still breathing. There was a dark, violet bruise blooming across the side of her throat, her lip was busted. Her eyes were red. Not from tears, but from holding them back. But she didn't regret what she said. That mouth of hers was always seeming to get her into trouble.
Elle kept pace beside her, footsteps light on the stone floor. Her ribs ached, her pulse thudded behind her eyes, and the bruise on her throat pulsed like a brand.
Nova's lip still bled flashing silver before red — a warm line trickling down her chin, but she didn't wipe it. Elle didn't seem to notice the silver.
She tried not to think of the terrible memories she'd had with Riven or Meredith growing up. A slap and being called a whore was nothing compared to the whippings and horrid acts.
Elle didn't push. She just walked beside her, matching her pace with that same loose, almost careless stride she always had — like nothing shocked her, even when it very much did.
Every few steps, her eyes flicked to Nova's throat, then away again, jaw tightening.
When they finally sat down in a quiet corner of the Omega dining hall, Elle leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice low but steady.
"You okay?" she asked. Not gentle — just real.
Nova didn't answer right away.
Elle squinted at her face like she was cataloging injuries. "Do you want me to find Elias? Because you do not look good. Something's definitely reopened. Or… still open."
Nova wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "N-no… healers."
Elle opened her mouth to argue, then saw the panic hit. Nova's hands trembled; her breath stuttered.
"Please… I don't want to be sent back."
That did it. Elle straightened, eyes sharp.
"Okay. No healers," she said immediately. "Bad plan. Ice it is. And quiet. And nobody asks questions unless they want me to bite their ankles."
Nova huffed something between a laugh and a sob.
They walked again. Elle stayed close — not hovering, but solid, like a wall that just happened to move with her.
Halfway down the dormitory hall, Elle spoke again, softer. Almost reluctant.
"Did you mean it? What you said to her?"
Nova blinked. "About the crown?"
Elle nodded, expression unreadable except for that little spark of curiosity she could never hide.
Nova swallowed. "I didn't mean to say it… but I meant it."
Elle let that sit for a beat. Then:
"Did you ruin her life like she said?"
Nova met her eyes. And for the first time, she didn't dodge.
"Yes."
Elle stared at her, murmured, "Huh," and kept walking like Nova had just told her she preferred tea over coffee.
Then she shrugged. "Cool. Sounds like she deserved it."
She said it so simply, so offhand, that Nova nearly stopped walking.
Elle glanced back, eyes narrowing. "What? I'm supposed to gasp and clutch my pearls? Please. If she grabbed you like that, she's been waiting years to pick that fight."
A small, tired laugh escaped Nova — surprised, shaky, but real.
"Come on," Elle muttered, looping an arm gently under Nova's to steady her. "Let's get you inside before someone stupid tries to talk to us."
Nova huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You're not very diplomatic."
"I'm not very political," Elle replied. "And I don't trust people who think royalty is an excuse to act like a bitch."
Nova's gaze dropped. "She wasn't wrong," she murmured. "My mother… was the Alpha King's fated mate. But he already had Queen Velora with two children. She was already carrying me before they met, but he claimed me as his bastard for my mother. It t-turned into a civil war, and when it was over, my mother was d-dead."
Elle didn't interrupt — just walked, jaw working.
"A Luna should be kind," she said finally. "And it terrifies me that she's about to step into that role here. Alpha Shadowclaw probably has no idea he's about to mark someone that cruel."
"We'll stay out of her way," Elle added, like it was settled law.
Nova nodded weakly.
"I apologize," she whispered. "Being associated with me might cause you some problems."
Elle snorted. "You know what fear does? Fear cuts deeper than swords. And Meredith wants you afraid." She nudged Nova's shoulder lightly. "You didn't give her that."
Nova blinked — surprised. Something like warmth flickered in her chest.
"And honestly?" Elle said, shrugging as though stating a weather report, "I've always had a tender spot for whores, bastards, sluts, and broken things."
Nova laughed — a small, cracked sound that still felt like air reaching a place that needed it.
Elle's grin vanished the second she saw the parchment.
"Oh look. Fan mail."
Nova bent to read it, and Elle's fingers curled into fists.
"Cute," she muttered. "They can write. Too bad they can't think."
Elle picked up the next parchment, skimmed it, and snorted.
"Well. At least they have consistent handwriting."
Then she found the one on the tea tray and lifted it with two fingers like it might bite her. But when Nova pulled the final note — the one with her name inked on it — Elle went very still. A muscle ticked in her jaw.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'm done being polite."
Her eyes hardened.
"Okay. That's it. I'm done being polite. Someone wants to play? Fine. Let's play.