Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance
Chapter 192: THE MELLOWING ACHE

Chapter 192: THE MELLOWING ACHE

The feel of the horse’s damp muzzle reminded Serena that she was still at the Keep. She exhaled softly, patting the creature’s nose. It had gone quiet, save for the odd shuffle of boots or the caw of distant crows. Her hands itched with the absence of motion, but she stayed beside the post. Livia had gone back inside with a vague "I won’t be long," and Serena was still waiting, unable or perhaps unwilling to head off alone. It would be rude, she told herself, to leave her companion without a word.

The silence gave her time to think, though. Unfortunately, more time than she wanted.

She leaned against the hitching post, eyes half-focused on the slowly reddening sky. The Keep, with all its stone walls and stale air, still clung to her mind like a petulant child. The council meeting had left a strange taste in her mouth. She could not place it, it was not bitter, neither was it sweet but a strange third thing.

Or maybe just bittersweet, she supposed. She truly had no business being in Ironshade, when she thought about it. And yet, here she was. It was almost funny, really.

A year ago, hells, even six months ago—if someone had told her she’d be sitting at a high council table discussing trade agreements and regional alliances with a foreign Alpha at her side, she might have laughed herself hoarse. Back then, the only negotiations she ever knew were over medicine doses, ration stock, and the price of silence and her sanity.

Now she was here. Playing house with Darius. Or at least, it felt that way.

And not in a bad sense. No. There were quiet moments between the two of them that felt... beautiful. Like maybe, if the world stopped spinning, she’d be alright where she stood.

Serena glanced down at her boots, scuffed and dusted with the Keep’s gravel. She hadn’t thought about Silverstone in a while. Not truly. Maybe that was part of what unnerved her, how easily the past had stopped bleeding into her every thought as before. She hadn’t dreamed of those halls in weeks. She hadn’t heard her first husband’s voice in her sleep. She hadn’t wept over that bond in far too long. It was somewhat freeing but it still scared her.

It didn’t mean she had completely healed. But the ache was not as loud as it used to be.

Serena’s brows furrowed faintly as her thoughts drifted to Elen. That haunted look and her red-rimmed eyes. The way she flinched at invisible hands. She kept brushing off Serena’s concern with non-answers and closed expressions, but something was happening behind the veil. Something awful. And Serena hated that she didn’t know what. Her hand gripped the reins absently, knuckles nearly going white.

"Are you going to stand there and brood until the horse dies of boredom?"

The voice jolted her upright. Livia stood at the top of the steps, arms folded, eyebrow arched.

Serena blinked, startled. "I was not brooding."

"You were sulking. Like a cat left out in the rain." Livia descended the steps, cloak swaying around her ankles. "Come on. We have wasted enough daylight."

Serena mounted wordlessly, brushing her hair back from her face. They rode in relative quiet for a while, hooves crunching lightly over the winding trail. The late afternoon was thick with birdsong and pollen, golden light filtering through the pines. Serena let the quiet carry them—until it was too quiet.

"So..." she began, glancing sidelong. "You hate honey?"

Livia’s lips curled slightly in amusement. "Is that the thought you decided to drag out into the open?"

"Well, it was a very strong reaction," Serena replied, mock solemn. "I thought you were having a seizure."

"Honey is for tea. It is not for stew, neither is it for bread, nor for meat." Livia made a small gagging noise. "That is how I feel. Write it down."

Serena smiled and shook her head. "That is... specific."

"I have principles."

"Unpopular ones, perhaps."

Livia gave a non-committal grunt and they slipped into another pocket of silence, but it wasn’t tense. If anything, the air between them had begun to soften just a bit. It was easy, these rides. Easier than she expected.

When they reached the castle gates, the scent of hearthfire and garden herbs welcomed them. Guards stood in their usual positions, nodding briefly as the two women dismounted. Livia murmured something about checking the courtyard stock before vanishing through one of the side halls.

Serena went straight to the library.

The air inside was cool and dry, with just enough light to read by. It wasn’t the grandest collection she’d ever seen, but Ironshade’s archives were well-kept, organised, and—most importantly—quiet.

She set her satchel down with care and rolled her shoulders. There were still a few things she didn’t know—terms from the north, regional incidents, references to older treaties that had been thrown around during the meetings. She wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

She pulled out several texts, stacking them beside her. Histories of the northern alliances. Trade route records. One book on Dawnbreak customs, though it was clearly written by an outsider and filled with biases. Still, it was something.

Serena read in silence for what felt like hours, her lips moving now and then as she sounded out unfamiliar words. When her eyes began to ache, she stood and paced the aisle once, then returned to her seat and kept going.

She traced a section of an old Dawnbreak oath, her finger pausing on the word kinclad—a ceremonial title given to those adopted into a pack by bond or blood.

Her brow furrowed. The word clung to her.

Was that what she was now? A kinclad to Ironshade? Not born of it. But maybe, in some way... becoming a part of it?

She rubbed her wrist absently, then pushed the thought away.

One thing at a time. One day at a time.

And when the call came—because it would—she would be ready.

No matter the cost.

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