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Chapter 211
~Solstice’s POV~
I miss her.
I miss Violet... Valerie Nightshade.
A slight bitter smile ford on my lips just ntally saying her alias.
The car was silent. The darkened windows reflected fragnts of light, streetlamps flickering past like dying stars as we sped down the winding road.
I sat in the back seat, hands clasped tightly together in my lap, eyes trained on nothing and everything. The world outside blurred, but the chaos inside sharpened.
Dad sat beside , stone-faced. The tension between us was almost a third passenger—thick, choking, unspoken.
The car slowed suddenly and turned onto a secluded path, one only we knew. A few yards ahead, a black limousine sat idling quietly beneath a canopy of trees.
Of course.
He was never going to take back to the city in the school car.
We stopped. He opened the door first and got out. I followed wordlessly, sliding into the back of the limo behind him. The second the door clicked shut, the atmosphere changed.
It was darker here. Colder. No screens, no barriers. Just Dad and I and the silent question tnone of us were asking.
He didn’t speak at first, didn’t need to.
I felt his gaze boring into as I looked out the window, watching the school disappear behind us.
Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, he spoke, just one word.
"Why?"
I chuckled, quietly at first, then louder and louder until it wasn’t laughter anymore—it was sothing else entirely. Raw, cracked, hysterical laugh.
A sound that didn’t belong to a girl of my upbringing but sothing feral.
"You delayed," I said, still laughing as I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. "Valerie needed ."
He shifted beside , and I could practically feel the weight of his disapproval, his judgnt pressing in.
"Val—"
"Don’t," I snapped. My laughter died as quickly as it began. "Don’t bring her into this. She didn’t do anything."
"Yes, she did! She lied for you," he said coldly. "She said she didn’t know where you were."
"No," I interjected sharply. "I made her lie. She didn’t want to. I gave her no choice."
His jaw clenched. "You’re reckless. You left school during a critical season. You abandoned your duties. You vanished—"
"I wasn’t vanishing, I was living!" I exploded, eyes flashing. "I needed ti! She needed soone to stand by her when no one else would!"
Father’s expression didn’t shift. He was a wall, the sa wall I had slamd into every ti I’d tried to break free from his expectations.
"You’re heir to one of the most powerful lines of your generation," he said icily. "You don’t have the luxury of disappearing for personal drama."
"She’s not drama," I whispered.
Silence.
I sat back in my seat, arms folded, heart pounding as I looked away. "She was my reason for doing a lot of things. Good or bad, I don’t regret helping her."
He exhaled through his nose. "You may not regret it, Solstice. But others may pay the price for your decisions."
I didn’t reply. There was nothing left to say since father wass one strong headed being. However, there’s a person in the universe who could talk to him—Mum.
The rest of the drive passed in loaded silence.
Hours later, we finally arrived at the edge of Golden Claw Pack. The moonlight bathed the stronghold in a soft glow, shadows dancing on stone as guards opened the heavy gates to let us in.
The car pulled up to the front courtyard.
Before I could get out, the front door burst open and I saw my mother.
She was already rushing down the steps before I even stood up.
Her beautiful face was tight with emotion—equal parts relief and worry. Her blonde curls were pinned in a loose braid, her eyes watery.
I stepped out of the car and braced myself.
"Solstice," she breathed.
I didn’t move at first. I waited for the slap, the lecture, the disappointnt.
Instead, by the ti Mum got to where I was standing, she wrapped her arms around warmly
I could sense and feel her frustration but there was forgiveness.
"I was so worried," she whispered, voice shaking. "Why didn’t you call ?"
Before I could answer, another voice echoed through the courtyard.
"You’re grounded," Aunt Tempest said coolly, stepping down from the porch with arms folded, eyes narrowed.
Of course she was here.
She was always there. Just like fire in winter—warm when needed, but scalding when provoked.
"I know," I mumbled.
"Do you?" Her voice hardened. "You vanished. No notice. No check-in. You put your safety at risk. You’re lucky your father didn’t drag you back in chains."
"Tempest," Mother warned softly.
"No. She needs to hear this." Aunt Tempest stepped closer. "Your title doesn’t protect you from consequences. You want to be respected? Then act like soone who deserves it."
I bit down on my lip, the sting of her words cutting sharper than I expected.
Still, I nodded. "I get it."
Tempest exhaled heavily and turned to walk away. "Co inside before I add another lecture."
I took one step forward.
Then stopped.
Sothing rippled in the air. A flutter—soft, warm. Like a heartbeat not mine.
My head snapped toward Mother. Her hands rested gently on her belly, almost unconsciously.
It hit , that was when I rembered what Storm ahd said. She was pregnant. My throat tightened.
I blinked, my chest rising and falling faster than it should’ve.
Mother smiled softly when she saw staring. "You weren’t supposed to know yet. We wanted to wait until after—"
I didn’t hear the rest.
Tears filled my eyes. A fresh wave. This one wasn’t from guilt or fear or exhaustion.
It was... sothing else.
I rushed forward without thinking and threw my arms around her.
"You’re having a baby..."
She laughed softly against my shoulder. "Yes."
My shoulders shook.
And for the first ti since I left school, I let go. I let the walls break. I sobbed into her arms like I was ten years old again. Like all the bravado, the rebellion, the fire in had finally cooled—for just a mont.
We stood there, locked in silence and quiet tears. My aunt watched from the doorway, her arms still crossed—but her eyes had softened.
And I knew... I wasn’t ho because I belonged.
I was ho because I needed to rember why I still mattered.
And what I still needed to protect.
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~Author’s POV~
The mont she saw the Council of Alphas’ seal burned into the blood-red wax of the letter, Principal Whitmore’s breath stalled.
She didn’t have to open it to know what it was about.
Still, with a composed expression masking the growing weight in her chest, she slid a finger beneath the edge and broke the seal.
Her eyes scanned the parchnt—clean, formal, and ominously concise.
"You are summoned by the Council of Alphas to explain the recent seismic disturbance recorded during the Senior Assessnt Trials at PSA. A formal report and personal testimony will be required."
Principal Whitmore’s eyes narrowed.
"Failure to comply or withholding relevant details may result in disciplinary sanctions and oversight protocols from the Council. Imdiate response is expected."
Of course.
They had found out.
They always did.
No matter how fast she tried to contain it, word spread faster—especially when whispers could be twisted into scandal.
Principal Whitmore let out a slow, steady breath and turned the letter over, almost foolishly hoping for a different ssage written in invisible ink. Maybe one that said: "Relax. You’ve done enough."
There was nothing.
She placed the letter carefully on her desk and moved toward the tall glass doors that opened to her balcony.
Her heels clicked with each step—sharp, echoing, like ticking seconds on a bomb.
She pushed the doors open and stepped into the warm, silent air. Below, the few students left in school for the midterms moved around, blissfully unaware of the storm quietly brewing overhead.
Their peace was built on the balance she fought daily to protect.
And now, the Council threatened that balance.
"Damn it," she whispered under her breath, just as a knock ca at her door.
"Co in."
Ms. Heart stepped inside, tablet clutched to her chest like a shield. Her expression was unreadable, but Whitmore knew that posture well. Bad news was never easy to deliver.
"The summons ca?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.
Whitmore didn’t bother nodding. She simply turned, leaning against the balcony rail.
"What’s the latest?"
"The magical board’s final readout remains inconclusive," Ms. Heart said, moving cautiously toward the desk. "They couldn’t trace any magical residue strong enough to have caused the quake. No fae, no witches, no elental signature detected—nothing that sticks. So are calling it a terrain reaction. A natural fault line."
Whitmore gave a small, bitter smile. "Convenient. Just in ti for the Council to panic."
Ms. Heart nodded slowly. "A few of the Alpha Lords have voiced doubts. So believe it was natural. It might be the opportunity we need—to claim alignnt with reason."
Whitmore turned and finally walked back into her office, letting the doors close behind her.
"And Valerie?"
"She returned to her dorm last night. She’s quiet. A little... off."
"That’s understandable. She was at the center of it, two major issues now." Whitmore glanced back at the parchnt.
"But I’ve already made my conclusion, Heart. Valerie Nightshade wasn’t the cause. She was the target. The disruption started directly beneath her feet. That is no coincidence. I don’t care if the rest of the world is blind to that—I’m not."
Ms. Heart exhaled, visibly relieved. "Then we stand by that."
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