All the while, Serena caught glimpses of Amara watching her with sothing between admiration and suspicion. By the ti the eting reached its midpoint, Serena’s throat was dry, her back straight with effort. The goal was never real trade. The goal was optics. And by the look on Elder Silas’s face, half smug, half annoyed. iI was working.
Serena folded her arms in front of her and nodded to Elder Cedar.
"I believe the Crimsonclaw records indicate that, when we last exchanged route data Ironshade received a smaller shipnt of willowbark tincture than expected," she said smoothly. "We rely request transparency going forward, as your healers’ needs are our concern too."
Elder Cedar nodded slowly, glancing toward Julian, who was already scribbling a note with careful precision. "Aye, the last winter yielded less than we hoped. The excess was sent to the mountain kin, who had begged for assistance."
"A noble act," Serena said, tilting her head slightly. "Though unfortunate, we understand. We have had a similarly tight yield this year due to flooding east of the Emberline."
Amara’s voice chid in suddenly from her side. "You speak of the Emberline as though you have seen it with your own eyes."
Serena turned, offering a polite, neutral smile. "I’ve crossed it twice. It runs red in the spring and slls of ash after the thaw."
Amara blinked, her lips parted just slightly in surprise and then the woman said nothing more. Serena looked over to Elder Julian who was furiously scribbling away in his note. Just what ga was Amara trying to play.
Charlotte leaned closer and whispered behind her hand, "She is vetting you."
"I gathered," Serena murmured back, her smile still in place.
Talk shifted then to textile shipnts from Dawnbreak and the question of whether Ironshade would be allowed to impose taxes on route-sharing. Charlotte fielded that one with veiled disdain, her tongue laced with legalese that made Elder Iris’s brow twitch. Serena listened, contributed where she could, and kept one eye trained on Riven, who had grown noticeably quieter.
His fingers tapped against the table absently, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the sa papers he had not turned in nearly ten minutes. He didn’t speak nor did he look up. He didn’t even acknowledge Amara when she made a lighthearted remark about the fabric quotas.
Sothing was disturbing him terribly. But what?
When Darius stood, offering a curt nod to signal the close of the session, Serena straightened imdiately. He said little, as expected, rely confirming that the points raised would be taken under review. Then he and Riven were gone, off through the door. Riven didn’t even look back.
Serena furrowed her brow and glanced at Charlotte, who had risen and was already collecting her things.
"We should move," she muttered.
Charlotte did not imdiately respond. She was eyeing Livia across the room, her mouth a thin line. When Serena touched her arm, she finally turned.
"What did you make of that?" Serena asked quietly.
Charlotte’s expression did not soften. "What, the Dawnbreak wolves’ silence? Or the fact that Livia would rather grind her molars to dust than speak a word of sense?"
Serena offered a wan smile. "Both."
"She is a snake. I said it before." Charlotte sighed, eyes darting back toward the now empty table. "But that went well. Too well, perhaps. Riven’s scowl says as much."
Serena mulled over Charlotte’s words, and then she wondered if they would lash out in so sort of way. It would be foolish to do so after all they were far from the jurisdiction of their Alpha.
"Do you think sothing’s happened?"
"I think Dawnbreak’s realizing we’re not so easily shaken off. That our presence alone changes the ga." Charlotte tugged her gloves back on and stepped ahead. "Co. Let’s not linger."
The two slipped through the stone corridor, their boots tapping softly against polished floors. The halls were already thinning as others left for their quarters or late als. Serena let Charlotte pull ahead just slightly while she trailed behind, her shoulders sagging now that the day’s stiffness had begun to wear off. The back of her neck was sore, and her legs ached. Her boots pinched in all the wrong places.
They rounded the corner leading toward the guest wings, the sound of laughter from a nearby hall fading as the distance grew. Serena caught up with Charlotte just outside the threshold to her own quarters.
"I’ll see you at supper?" Serena asked.
"If I don’t tear soone’s face off first, yes." Charlotte arched a brow. "You look like you are about to faint."
"I feel like a corset seam at full stretch."
Charlotte smirked faintly. "Then go. Strip yourself down and lie flat before you pass out in a hallway."
Serena gave a light laugh and waved her off. Once Charlotte turned and disappeared into her own room, Serena slipped inside her chamber and finally...finally exhaled.
The door shut behind her with a satisfying thud.
She wasted no ti peeling off her overskirt, her bodice, and then wrangling free the stiff understructure that had dug into her ribs all morning. With a grunt, she tossed the padded stays onto the chair and sank down onto the edge of the bed in her undershirt and hose. Her toes wiggled gratefully and her shoulders drooped.
The eting had gone well, better than she’d hoped. But the way Riven had looked at the end gnawed at her. And Amara’s stare hadn’t been born of re curiosity. It was the look of soone trying to piece together a puzzle she didn’t yet know she was holding.
Serena leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. Her pulse had slowed now. The air tasted like paper and dried lavender. She would give herself a few minutes, only a few to lie still before changing into sothing looser. Then perhaps she’d wander the southern gardens and let the warmth of the evening bleed the rest of the tension away.
She reached for the ribbon tying her hair and undid it with a lazy tug.
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