Gavriel was moving before anyone could stop him, Dexmon and King Tiberon close behind. He cut ahead, already falling in step behind Alaric.
The air felt heavy as they turned back toward the castle.
Serena walked swiftly behind Elara, who still had her arm. Her breathing was uneven, and the gold glow still hadn't faded.
They had barely cleared the side entrance when Serena swayed. Her knees gave out completely.
Dexmon was there in an instant, catching her before she hit the stone. He scooped her up immediately, primal instincts overriding rational thought.
"Follow me," Alaric said quietly.
He reached for a framed portrait along the corridor wall and swung it aside, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it. Hidden from most, but not all.
Dexmon stepped through without slowing. Serena's head rested in the crook of his neck.
When her forehead brushed his skin, his body jolted.
He adjusted his hold at once, smooth and practiced, as if nothing had happened.
Heat lingered where she touched him. Electric. Unfamiliar.
A bead of sweat traced his temple. The sensation refused to fade. It drowned out everything else.
Another frame shifted aside, and they emerged back into the recovery chamber Serena had been staying in.
"She's burning up," Dexmon said, jaw tight as he lowered her carefully onto the bed.
Serena's face was drawn, her brow creased with pain, lashes damp against her cheeks.
"She'll be alright," Elara said calmly, stepping closer. "She just overheated during our tour."
Every head turned toward her.
The door opened a moment later.
Hyran entered, cloak whispering softly as he crossed the threshold. The Master Mage of Drakenfell took in the room with a single measured glance, his gaze lingering on Serena longer than the others.
"Ah," he murmured. "That explains it."
Gold flared briefly in his hands.
Then he froze.
The light vanished as if snuffed out mid-breath. His brow furrowed as he studied Serena's face, the faint gold still pulsing beneath her skin.
Slowly, deliberately, Hyran withdrew his magic entirely.
He mindlinked Alaric without thinking to shield it.
A fatal mistake because a mindlink not purposely made private can be heard by the alpha, beta, and gamma if they are nearby.
Hyran:She is overpowered. Healing magic will hurt her, not help. Did anyone see her blood?
Alaric:No. But if they remain here and I place an I.V., they will.
A third presence slid into the link, uninvited and unmistakably amused.
Gavriel:What's special about her blood?
Hyran and Alaric both went still.
Careless.
Too late.
Hyran:Golden-blooded. A once-in-a-millennium rarity.
Silence followed.
Gavriel's next question was not mindlinked.
He asked it aloud.
"What is she?"
Elara felt the shift and misread it entirely.
"She has a wolf," Elara said quickly, stepping closer to the bed. Her voice was calm, steady, practiced. "She just overheated. That's all. I can take care of her."
She turned slightly toward King Tiberon and Dexmon, respectful but unyielding.
"We appreciate your hospitality," she continued evenly. "Once she wakes, we will leave. We won't trouble you further."
Dexmon's jaw ticked. There was absolutely no chance of that happening.
King Tiberon, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
"Her secret is safe here," he said quietly. "We do not press power that is not ours to name."
He paused, then looked directly at Elara.
"Does King Viremont have any understanding of her abilities?"
Elara's eyes flicked to Alaric. Sharp. Disbelieving.
Alaric did not meet her gaze.
Tiberon watched the exchange and drew his own conclusion.
"Viremont is the only region that chains women in silver," he said evenly. "That narrowed the field considerably."
Elara swallowed.
"No," she said at last. "He is not aware. Her blood turns red after a few seconds. Her power has only surfaced once before. No one realized it was her."
The room went still.
"Was she his mistress?" Gavriel said, his voice dark, jaw tightening in disgust at the thought.
Elara's mouth flattened.
"No. We received word that King Viremont had inquired about her," she said. "So she tried to escape again. This time, I went with her."
"Again?" Dexmon snapped.
"Yes," Elara said. "She failed twice before. Forty lashes in public for the first attempt. Silver cuffs for the second."
Her voice stayed steady, even as her jaw tightened.
"The third attempt ends in death. She's prepared for that."
She paused, just long enough to make it clear she was choosing her words with care.
"I can't say more."
King Tiberon stepped forward. He did not raise his voice, but the room shifted around him all the same.
"She is safe here," he said, tone hard as forged steel. "No harm will come to her by our hand."
His gaze moved to Serena, deliberate and assessing.
"If you choose to remain," he continued, "both of you will fall under our protection. We will not return you to Viremont."
Dexmon stepped forward at once, hand coming to his chest.
"On my life," he said.