Riona’s na had beco infamous among the pack mbers. They didn’t call her by na, though—instead, they preferred the more affectionate title of ’the snob,’ which was far worse.
Her abrupt and absurd departure from the feast had only heightened the werewolves’ wariness of her. The festive mood soured in an instant, leaving Thorin to calm the angry crowd.
Even Puck had nothing to defend Riona’s behavior.
"What just happened?"
"Is she, like, too good for us?"
"Obviously! Do you even need to ask? She clearly sees us as barbarians. Those snobs never give us the benefit of the doubt, so why should we do the sa for them?"
"Yeah, there’s no mistaking it—that was a look of pure disgust."
"I can’t believe it. We were generous enough to let her sit with us, and she acts like she’s doing us a favor?"
"It’s blatant disrespect for our culture and way of life."
Hatred spread through the forest like wildfire. The werewolves were like trees—just a spark could ignite them.
But in this case, Riona didn’t just spark the flas; she poured oil on the ground and lit the match herself. No wonder the forest was now engulfed in fire.
"She’s just tired," Thorin tried to defend her, though he wasn’t sure what had happened to Riona.
"Tired? That’s not tired, Thorin. That’s ’I’m-too-good-for-your-barbaric-picnic’ behavior," a pack mber shot back.
Thorin shifted uncomfortably. He could stop the clamor with a single command—after all, he was the Alpha, and every pack mber was bound to obey him.
But even if he silenced them now, the whispers would continue, and their resentnt toward Riona would only grow.
In the long run, this could create a serious internal rift, potentially dividing the pack and threatening Thorin’s position if he wasn’t careful.
"I’ll talk to her," Thorin finally said.
He needed to understand what had happened before he could protect Riona from the backlash and maintain both his reputation and peace within the pack.
***
Riona was oblivious to the extent of hate she was getting, but she had a pretty solid hunch that her latest stunt hadn’t exactly won her any popularity contests.
Sitting beside Florian’s bed—shockingly, without getting lost this ti—Riona sighed repeatedly.
Leaning against the bamboo wall, she muttered, "Will our new lives here really be any better than in the palace?"
With nothing but ti on her hands, Riona’s thoughts turned to recent events. She couldn’t ignore the fact that King Valentin, of all people, had helped her escape the palace.
"Why now? The man was practically obsessed with keeping locked up before."
The thought that her uncle might actually care for her briefly crossed her mind, but it quickly dissolved into a dry, bitter laugh.
"Yeah, right. This is the sa guy who let his daughter treat like her personal punching bag. The servants looked at and Florian like we were dirt on their shoes, and what did he do? Absolutely nothing! Not even a twitch!"
Riona’s fingers curled into fists as her eyes widened and her chest heaved with anger, pulling out every lousy mory from her ti in the palace.
"Hey."
A familiar voice ca from behind the closed door. For so reason, Thorin sounded pained—did he eat expired at or sothing?
"Yeah?" Riona responded.
"Can I co in?"
"Uh-huh."
If there was one thing Riona was grateful for, it was that Thorin’s arrival spared her from dwelling on her painful mories of the royal palace.
Thorin stepped in like he was sneaking past a sleeping dragon. Riona rolled her eyes. Seriously? Florian had been in a coma for weeks.
If the nonstop rain, constant running, blood-curdling screams, assorted battles, and that lovely little blizzard hadn’t woken him up, what did Thorin think his tiptoeing was going to accomplish?
Was he afraid his footsteps might break the spell?
Once inside, Thorin maintained his awkward deanor, scratching the back of his head like he was trying to find a lost thought, furrowing his brows, and pouting.
"What is it? If you’ve got sothing to say, just say it," Riona urged, unable to bear the sight any longer.
"Uh," Thorin began, but then he shut his mouth again. He closed his eyes, slapped his thigh, and finally asked, "What happened to you back there?"
Riona knew this mont would co sooner or later. Ready or not, she had to face it. She sighed, feeling an apology stuck in her throat, but her pride wouldn’t let her blurt it out in front of the Alpha.
She swallowed hard and instead made an excuse. "I’ve been consuming raw blood during our escape. I’m so sick of it that even the sll of fresh blood makes want to puke. That’s what happened."
Riona gritted her teeth. She had a ton more to say—she wanted to apologize and all that mushy stuff—but the words were playing hard to get.
Thorin bit his lower lip, taken aback by the response. He had anticipated so sort of heartfelt struggle or at least a dramatic sob story that would make everyone feel sorry for her.
Instead, Riona’s reaction was dismissive and aloof. He doubted the pack mbers would accept her excuses.
"They hate , don’t they?" she blurted out.
Thorin hesitated, torn between honesty and kindness. He shook his head but nodded at the sa ti. If he didn’t explain the gravity of the situation, Riona wouldn’t take it seriously. But if he told her the truth, it might hurt her deeply.
Frustrated, he finally said, "I brought you here hoping for a drama-free life, but keeping that promise will be tricky if you don’t put in so effort."
At that mont, Riona felt so bad that even her ironclad pride started to crack. so embarrassing that she had to force them out, and they exploded from her mouth as a scream: "I’M SORRY!"
Startled by her own volu, Riona quickly lowered her head. Her voice trembled—not because she was crying or anything dramatic like that, obviously; it was just too mortifying to look Thorin in the eye.
"I’m used to artificial blood," she mumbled.
She gritted her teeth as she admitted this, feeling as though she were swallowing the world’s most disgusting garlic smoothie.
"It tastes different from raw blood, which is fishy and awful. It was okay at first, but after a while, I just couldn’t stand it anymore."
Riona kept her head down, ensuring Thorin couldn’t see her expression. "Throwing up in front of your pack isn’t exactly good guest behavior, right? But not showing up would’ve made look even worse. So, what was I supposed to do?"
Thorin squinted at her, trying to process the absurdity. "Wait, so all this drama... because you’re sick of raw blood? Seriously?"
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