The carriage ride back to the Shadow-Crest was silent, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of the trip there. It was the charged, electric quiet that exists in the eye of a hurricane.
Silas hadn't let go of me since we stepped off the Silver-Moon's terrace. I was draped in his heavy, fur-lined cloak, the scent of cedar and dark musk wrapping around me like a physical shield. Beneath the wool, my skin was still humining, the titanium in my blood vibrating with the aftershocks of the Alpha Command.
Silas sat across from me, his eyes never leaving mine. He looked at me as if he were seeing a mountain for the first time—something ancient, immovable, and devastatingly beautiful.
"You're thinking about the records," he said, his voice a low rumble.
"I'm thinking about the person who handed me over," I replied, my voice steady. "Someone saw a child with the blood of the High Peaks and decided she was better used as a pawn than a Queen. I want to know who that was, Silas. I want to know if they're still in the Council. I want to know if they're watching me right now."
Silas leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "We will find them. I will turn every stone in this territory until the truth is screaming for mercy." He paused, his gaze softening, his thumb tracing a slow circle on the back of my hand. "But tonight... tonight you did something I didn't think was possible. You broke a High Alpha's will without even touching him."
I looked at my reflection in the dark glass of the carriage window. My eyes still had a faint, silvery ring around the iris. I didn't look like the girl who had arrived at the Shadow-Crest as a debt-slave. I didn't even look like the woman who had spent five years enduring Julian's cruelty.
I looked like a Sovereign.
"I didn't break you, Silas," I whispered. "I just reminded you who I was."
A dark, predatory smirk tugged at his lips. "Believe me, Seraphina, I am well aware."
When we arrived back at the Shadow-Crest, the house felt different. The guards didn't just stand at attention; they bowed—not to Silas, but to the space between us. Word had traveled faster than the carriage. They knew.
Silas walked me up the grand staircase, his hand firm on the small of my back. When we reached the doors to my chambers, he stopped. He looked at me, the arrogance of the High Alpha warring with a vulnerability I had never seen.
"You are no longer a guest," he said. "And you are certainly not a debt. You are the White-Fire Sovereign. If you wish to leave... if you wish to reclaim your mountains alone... I will not stop you."
He was giving me the choice he had never had. He was offering me the freedom he had once tried to buy.
I looked at him—the man who had seen my power and preened instead of recoiling. The man who wanted to be the consort to my storm.
"The High Peaks are cold and empty, Silas," I said, stepping closer until our chests were almost touching. "I think I'd prefer to rule from here. For now."
Silas let out a breath that sounded like a prayer. He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "Then let the world tremble. Because tomorrow, we start the hunt."
I reached up, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tomorrow, the world can tremble. But tonight..." I pulled him closer, my eyes flashing that brilliant, unmasked silver one last time. "Tonight, I want to see what else a Sovereign can command."
Silas didn't need another word. He kicked the doors shut, the heavy oak thudding into place, sealing us in the darkness.