Phoebe’s POV
I nearly forgot just how much I adored being around children.
Growing up, I’d always craved a sibling—specifically a younger one. The idea of having soone to confide in, to share secrets with, seed perfect.
But when Reginald and Viola moved in after Dad mated their mother, reality crushed those dreams.
Viola kept her distance constantly. She wanted nothing to do with . Not an exactly, but she’d wave off whenever I tried entering her space, shutting out completely.
Reginald, though... once I hit fifteen, his stares turned strange. His hands wandered where they shouldn’t. The way he looked at made my skin crawl.
Back then, I couldn’t grasp what was happening. I stayed silent, hoping it would stop. But as months passed, I realized how wrong it all was and finally fought back.
That’s when everything collapsed. His lies, his violent attempt to force himself on , and Dad choosing his mate’s side over mine—telling to stop causing drama.
I’d never felt more abandoned.
Those years with Viola and Reginald around killed any longing I had for siblings.
But stepping into this orphanage brought those feelings rushing back, especially seeing the siblings who’d lost everything in the war.
The boy was ten, his sisters seven and five. Absolutely precious. The way he shielded them when I approached, positioning himself like a tiny guardian while they ducked behind him.
"What’s your na?" I stepped away from the king’s group—too many intimidating presences scaring the kids into hiding.
I didn’t want that kind of eting. After spotting these three, I’d asked the guardian about them. She explained they were siblings who’d lost their father two years back, their mother during the youngest’s birth.
"Upton," he answered, eyes sharp but trusting enough to introduce his sisters when the guardian encouraged him. "This is Ruby and Joyce."
"They’re gorgeous," I said. "What ga are you playing? Mind if I join?"
They were playing with a ball—hitting each other with it, then chasing whoever got tagged.
I rembered this ga from childhood. Childish? Maybe. But I genuinely wanted to play.
Besides Upton and his sisters, about ten other kids were involved.
"You wanna play?" The others gathered around . "But no shifting into your beast."
"Promise I won’t," I said, though shifting wasn’t exactly an option for anyway. They didn’t need that detail.
The children huddled, debating whether to include . They seed wary rather than terrified—probably because they couldn’t sense any dominance from . Hard to project power when you don’t have a wolf.
"Alright, you can play. Let explain the rules," one boy said, launching into explanations I already knew. I listened anyway. "You’re the chaser. Here’s the ball."
Excitent bubbled up inside . Holding that ball made feel giddy. "I’ll count to twenty-five."
"Okay!" they chorused, scattering to find hiding spots while I turned my back, blocking their escape routes from view.
Pure joy. I’d forgotten why I ca here in the first place. For the first ti in forever, I felt free—like being a kid again.
Ridiculous behavior for soone my age, but I couldn’t stop myself. Running around without a care in the world made feel truly alive.
——
Kevin had demanded stronger doses of the poison ant for the king, since the previous slow-acting formula barely affected him.
Now Mason carried several vials, making her jumpy around Helen, the healer.
"Why do I sll sothing odd on you?" Helen confronted Mason in the kitchen during a midnight snack run, just as Mason finished her shift.
"What do you an?" Mason played dumb, but her heart hamred against her ribs. She prayed the healer couldn’t hear it. If Helen were a shifter, she’d definitely sense sothing wrong. "Are you saying I stink?"
She narrowed her eyes, feigning offense.
Helen remained unfazed, grabbing Mason’s hand and sniffing her fingers. Mason tensed.
"What are you doing?" She pulled back, frowning.
"I recognize this scent, but can’t place it."
"What scent? Chili? I just chopped so." Mason subtly withdrew her hand, then hugged Helen to defuse the situation. "Get so sleep, Helen. You look exhausted."
Helen left the kitchen, glancing back with that contemplative expression. She was still puzzling over the sll on Mason’s fingers, and knowing her, she wouldn’t quit until she figured it out.
The stronger poison had left its scent clinging to her. Other shifters might ignore random odors, but Helen was a healer—she’d identify it once she rembered where she’d encountered it before.
Panicked, Mason skipped returning to her room and headed straight for the warriors’ quarters to find Reginald.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Reginald hissed, scanning the area for witnesses. "I told you I’d co to you, not the other way around." His anger was palpable.
But Mason had no ti for his tantrum, rapidly explaining what happened. Reginald’s eyes widened by the end.
"What should I do now?" Mason fidgeted nervously. "I’m scared. What if she rembers what that sll is? She’s a healer—she might recognize poison."
"Shut up and stop crying," Reginald snarled.
"I tried avoiding her, but you just gave fresh bottles, and I’ve been sleeping with poison in my room. The scent must have soaked into . She’ll know I’m hiding poison if she cos to my room."
"Don’t worry, I’ll handle this," Reginald assured her. "Now get back."
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