Chapter 59
*Jiselle*
I didn’t expect the path to the council chambers to feel like a funeral march. And yet, that’s exactly what it felt like. The silence between Nate and me was thick–not awkward, just…. bracing.
Like we were walking into something neither of us could fully prepare for. The stone corridors that led beneath the academy twisted downward, carved into the bones of the mountain itself. With each step we took, the air grew colder, heavier, like it was pressing down on my skin, demanding silence, reverence, submission.
The guards didn’t speak. They didn’t look at us. Their expressions were stiff, movements rehearsed. It wasn’t the usual enforcer escort. This was formal. Political. Dangerous.
I didn’t like it.
Nate’s hand brushed mine once, just once, and it was enough. I didn’t need words. His presence beside me was enough to keep the panic from rising again.
But when the double doors opened ahead–tall, ancient slabs of blackened wood with silver veins running through them like lightning bolts–I realized exactly how much I’d underestimated this.
The council chambers were nothing like I expected.
The room was vast, hollow, and echoing. A dome carved from obsidian rock, with high–backed chairs placed in a semicircle at the far end. Each seat was etched with the insignia of a ruling pack–twelve total, each one representing a territory. The air shimmered faintly with suppressed power, like even the walls themselves held memory and judgment. Torches lined the outer walls, flickering against the stone with a heatless glow.
And at the center… the floor dipped into a wide, circular space.
The accused’s pit.
They called it a platform, but it wasn’t. It was a cage made from design alone–lower than the council, perfectly aligned so you had to look up at them while they looked down on you.
I stepped forward, my boots ringing against the stone, and realized that everything here had been crafted to make people like me feel small.
They weren’t here to hear us.
They were here to see how we squirmed.
Bastain was already seated in a high–backed chair behind the circle, a silent observer. Miss Carrow stood just behind him, arms folded. Neither spoke, but Bastain’s eyes found mine immediately. He gave the barest nod–one I couldn’t tell was reassurance or warning.
Hadelyn sat off to the right, beside the council, as the Head Enforcer. His posture was rigid, like he was barely tolerating our presence.
Max wasn’t here.
Of course he wasn’t.
He was probably still in holding. And yet here I was, standing like prey in a wolf’s den.
The central council member–a silver–haired woman with a jagged scar down her jaw–lifted her hand. “You may begin.”
I swallowed. My voice felt small even before I used it. “Begin… what, exactly?”
“The council has summoned you to speak on the matter of the mark,” she said plainly. “The timeline. The circumstances. And whether you intend to formally pardon the offender.”
The offender.
It took everything I had not to laugh. That’s what he was now. Just a term. A case. A line item on some council docket. I opened my mouth, but someone else beat me to it.
“She does.”
Nate.
His voice rang through the chamber, calm and sure. The council’s collective gaze shifted toward him like wolves scenting blood.
Successfully unlocked!
“She gave her pardon while she was sick,” he aqueu, saw a ne nau every right to retract it once she was lucid. But she hasn’t.”
I could tell that h…………
Chapter 59
One of the older male council members raised a brow. “Mr. Morningstar, you were not granted permission to speak. You were invited here solely out of courtesy of being her mate, as your instructors informed us.”
I met Bastian’s eyes again then with nothing but gratitude. They were the reason I wasn’t standing in this pit alone. I wasn’t offended that they thought I wouldn’t have been able to manage on my own, because I really wouldn’t have.
“I don’t need permission to defend her,” Nate said coldly. “You’re right–she’s my mate and I go where she goes, whether I was invited or not. And I don’t play nice when it comes to my mate.”
The emphasis he placed on those last two words made even me shiver.
I heard a faint intake of breath from Hadelyn. The enforcer looked like he’d swallowed glass.
The woman in the center raised a hand to stall the tension. “Let the record show the bonded mate spoke out of turn. Continue.”
They turned back to me, and I forced myself to inhale.
“I didn’t press charges,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “And I won’t. What happened was wrong. It was a violation. But I don’t want him to die for it.”
A murmur rippled through the council. They didn’t like that.
“And what do you want?” a thin, hawk–eyed man asked from the far end. “Revenge? Reconciliation? Or simply to put this behind you?”
I blinked. “I want to survive.”
Another murmur.
“And you think that will happen with someone like Maximus Laker walking free?” someone else asked, voice heavy with skepticism. “You’ve been manipulated, emotionally compromised-”
“Watch it,” Nate growled, stepping forward.
“Control your mate,” the scarred woman said flatly.
He didn’t flinch. “I would if he needed controlling. But if you think she can’t tell the difference between love and manipulation, you’re out of line.”
The hawk–eyed councilman leaned forward. “And how can we be sure you haven’t influenced her?”
“You want to question my loyalty?” Nate said, eyes flashing. “I almost killed my sole equal–something that has never happened or even come close to happened before- for what he did to her. I’ve bled for this council. Bled for this school. But I don’t answer to you–not when it comes to her.”
Hadelyn stood, but Bastain raised a hand before he could step forward.
“That’s enough,” Bastain said quietly. “We didn’t come here to question loyalty. We came here to judge facts.”
Finally, a younger councilwoman at the center shifted forward. Her tone was softer–curious rather than confrontational. ” Why isn’t Maximus here?”
Hadelyn’s face pinched. “He’s been remanded to his family’s territory. The council voted privately to allow him one year of exile. His formal education will resume next term, under watch.”
My stomach turned.
It wasn’t justice.
It was… removal.
Cleaning up the mess.
The woman nodded slowly. “Very well. Then let’s speak plainly. Miss Johal–are you aware of the rarity of your wolf?” I froze.
The air shifted.
Beside me, Nate tensed.
“I–what?”
“Your wolf,” she said. “White. Pure. Unmarked by any secondary pigmentation. Do you know how rare that is?”
“L… I know it’s uncommon,” I whispered.
“But not why it’s uncommon,” she added gently. “And have you begun to manifest?”
My blood ran cold
Chapter 59
My gaze darted to Instructor Bastain.
His face remained unreadable, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.
They weren’t here because of Max.
They were here because of me.
“Answer the question,” one of the older men pressed. “Have you begun exhibiting signs of inherited ability?”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that.”
Miss Carrow shifted, her expression unreadable.
And then Bastain stood.
“We suspect she will, in time,” he said calmly. “We believe she may be like Nathaniel and Maximus. We will know on the Solstice,” Bastain said clearly.
That’s when I knew he was lying.
I didn’t know how I knew. But I knew. Bastain was playing for time. For protection.
Because he knew that if I was what they really thought I was–they’d kill me before the Solstice ever came. That’s what he meant when he said some persons might want to kill me, didn’t he? He knew this meeting was going to come one way or the other.
After my first shift at school, it was jus in dew time.
I knew pure white wolves were rare, but it just made me a target.
The chamber exploded in noise.
Dozens of voices rose at once, some in disbelief, some in speculation. I caught a few words–veilborn, touched, unstable, danger. My stomach twisted. They also think that’s why Nate and Max were drawn to me. Kin in power?
But I wasn’t like Max or Nate. Bastian lied to buy time. And that just meant I was far more dangerous than whatever Max
and Nate were.
That was more terrifying than anything–considering everyone, student and instructor alike and I dare even say, council- member, were afraid of Nate and Max because of their power that I’ve only glimpsed a few times. I knew I had no such power so… what the hell… was I?
The council finally quieted again. The scarred woman stood.
“We will delay judgment. The Solstice is in four weeks. If her power manifests as suspected, we will reconvene. Until then, you are free to return to the academy.”
“And if I don’t manifest?” I asked.
She stared at me. “Then the Moon will decide what remains of you.”
Nate stepped forward, teeth bared. “That’s a threat.”
“It’s a promise,” another councilman hissed.
Bastain turned toward the doors. “Come on,” he said lowly. “Now.”
We didn’t wait.
We moved.
Back up the corridor, back into the cold, fresh light of the mountain morning.
And for a moment, I just stood there, breathing it in.
Nate’s hand slid into mine.
“They didn’t want justice,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened. “No. They want control.”
And the worst part?
They might already have it.
