Chapter 3

My grip tightens on my sleeve, nails biting into my palm. Quinn's dazed look, Shawn's tender gaze—it's all so absurd I could laugh. But the ache in my chest chokes it down.

"I…" Quinn starts, her eyes flickering, but she says nothing more, just ducks her head with a shy smile.

I turn away, my throat tight. What's the point of spilling the truth now? I'm set to form a bond with someone else. If Shawn believes Quinn saved him, so be it.

I scoop up my fallen fan and slip into the depths of the garden.

As the she-wolves scatter to admire the blooms, Shawn murmurs to a maid to look after Quinn, his eyes never once drifting my way.

A sharp scream shatters the garden's calm. "Bees! Bees!"

I spin around. Quinn's flailing, a swarm buzzing around her as she swats with her handkerchief.

Maids scramble, waving torches to drive the bees off, but one catches a curtain, and flames leap up, smoke billowing.

"Fire! Run!"

The crowd surges, knocking me to the ground. Pain sears my ribs as feet trample over me. I grit my teeth, hauling myself up, and then I see him—Shawn, charging against the tide.

My heart leaps.

But he brushes past me, racing to Quinn. He sweeps her into his arms, and as he turns, his shoulder slams me back to the ground.

My head cracks against the stone steps, vision swimming. Smoke chokes my lungs, heat licking at my skin. As darkness closes in, I see Shawn's back, carrying Quinn away, resolute, unwavering.

Everything fades.

I don't know how long I'm out, but faint sobs pull me back. "Leah, hang on… the healer's coming…"

"Diana sent her best, but Shawn took them all for Quinn…"

"We begged him, said you're hurt worse, but he… he didn't care…"

My chest aches, not from the wounds but from the truth. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Footsteps rush in. "The healer's here!"

A warm hand checks my pulse, and the prick of silver needles makes me wince, but I'm too weak to even groan.

"Her injuries are severe, and treatment was delayed…" The healer's voice is grim. "She'll live, but she'll suffer for it."

"She's alive! Thank the stars!" The maids' cries are raw, like they're weeping out all the pain I've carried.

I wake the next day, propped against the headboard, head throbbing. The healer returns, checks my pulse, prescribes herbs, and orders rest.

Outside, servants whisper. "Shawn hasn't visited Leah once."

"Quinn just got spooked, and he's there every day, spoon-feeding her medicine…"

My fingers clench, heart sliced open by a dull blade. But I just stroke my bandages, pretending I hear nothing.

During my recovery, I start sorting my dowry. In my last life, I prepared it with joy, thinking a bond with Shawn was my happy beginning. It was a nightmare's start. This time, I won't repeat that mistake.

I catalog my mother's heirlooms—jewelry, silks, paintings—and have the deeds to my lands and shops double-checked. Everything's in order.

The next day, the den buzzes. Shawn arrives with a lavish betrothal procession, and servants crowd the corridors to gawk.

"A bushel of East Sea pearls!"

"Hundred bolts of silk!"

"A pair of rosewood screens, carved with gold!"

Shawn's steward belts out the list as lackeys haul in red-draped chests. The servants murmur, impressed. "Shawn's got deep pockets!"

"Leah and Quinn both get treasures fit for queens. Talk about prestige!"

I stand on the porch, watching calmly. The gifts are identical, down to the last pearl, as if to scream that Quinn and I are equals in this bond.

When the list ends, the steward lifts a glossy jade bangle from a lacquered box. "This is the Yates family heirloom, to be given by Madam Yates herself to the future lady of the den."

Every eye turns to me. As the high-born she-wolf, it should be mine.

But Shawn takes the bangle and strides to Quinn, sliding it onto her wrist. "Wear it," he says softly. "In my heart, you're the only one worthy."

Quinn's eyes light up, though she glances at me, feigning hesitation. "Is this… okay?"

Shawn chuckles. "Leah's big-hearted. She won't mind."