"Love doesn't just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new."
-Ursula K. Le Guin

Life granted us a few days of normalcy. The plans to welcome the pack leaders with a small ball were underway, just as the Prince had predicted. Despite spending much of our time together since returning home, he hadn't mentioned the question he asked before we were taken. And I didn't dare to bring it up myself. Instead, I threw myself into a routine while I still could.

I woke an hour before the shutters closed, marking me as a night riser. Becca tried her best to join me for breakfast before heading to bed, as most of her work was done during the day. I missed her, but she tried to see me whenever possible. After eating, I'd find myself daydreaming about what my life could have been like if I'd stayed working for Evan.

Then, I'd patrol the grounds. Every guard member had to complete at least an hour of duty unless something urgent arose. I often overachieved, walking the grounds for three hours, focused on every shadow and movement, and determined to contribute as much as possible to the community that had taken me in.

Jaxon found me during those hours. It was never a coincidence, though neither of us acknowledged it. He'd join me for the remainder of my patrol, then invite me to the dojo for training.

Tonight, he found me near the greenhouse, patrolling Becca's workplace. I made it a point to check on her favorite area. Of all the people, I wanted her safe the most. As I peered through the glass, watching over the newly planted mounds of dirt, Jaxon's presence tickled the aura beside me.

"Are you thinking of switching careers?" Jaxon's voice cut through the quiet, and his silent steps startled me. My hand flew to my chest, trying to settle the sudden thumping. His smirk sent a different kind of flutter through my already unsteady heart.

"Why do you always have to sneak up on me?" I asked, half-joking, but the amusement in his eyes gave him away before he answered.

"I like hearing your heartbeat." His voice was soft, genuine. The admission caught me even more off guard than his presence.

For days now, we'd been meeting like this—Jaxon growing bolder with each encounter and me falling for him a little more every time. We continued walking the walls in a comfortable silence, so close our arms brushed now and then, a barely-there touch that kept sending tiny sparks through me. By the time I finished my last round, I was silently thankful. I wasn't sure how much more of his teasing touches my heart could take.

"Are you up for training today?" Jaxon knew the answer but asked anyway.

"Of course. I need all the practice I can get. You're the only one who can actually challenge the whispers," I admitted, trying not to sound smug. I wasn't used to that kind of confidence, and it felt strange on my tongue.

We parted at the entrance to the female changing rooms in the dojo. While the guard uniform kept me warm outside, it was far too stifling indoors, with every fireplace in the manor blazing through winter. I swapped the fur-lined leather and heavy cowl for a form-fitting tank top. Since Becca had introduced me to the magic of leggings, they had become my staple for almost every situation—training included. Leaving my boots in the locker, I padded back out barefoot.

Jaxon was already on the mats, dressed similarly to me, though he wore track shorts instead of leggings. I was grateful for that—I doubted I'd be able to focus on sparring if every part of him was fully displayed. My cheeks warmed at the thought, and I cursed myself for blushing before we started.

He looked up with a playful gleam in his eye. "Do you like what you see?"

"Yes." This time, I didn't bother to hide it. If he was going to be blunt, then so would I. Why keep avoiding what we both knew?

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at my brazenness, but he let it slide. We had a purpose here, and he wasn't about to be distracted. Jaxon dropped into his defensive stance, waiting for me to follow. I complied, mirroring his posture as we began circling each other, each of us waiting for the other to make the first move.

The whispers in my mind calculated every step, trying to predict his strikes based on the countless times we'd sparred. But no matter how well I thought I knew his fighting style, he always kept me guessing, switching things up when I thought I was getting the upper hand.

Jaxon had the advantage of speed—quick strikes and fluid movements that made it hard to keep up. I, on the other hand, relied on my attention to detail. For every blow he landed, I found a way to return it. Over the past few sessions, I had started to feel satisfied with how much I'd improved. Our matches often ended in a stalemate, though I was sure he was still holding back, careful not to push me too far.

But today felt different. We were more in sync, landing fewer punches and transitioning into more complex maneuvers. Our actions flowed into each other as if we were engaged in a dance rather than a fight.

Sweat slicked my skin, a testament to my effort. The whispers fired suggestions at me rapidly, but one stood out, sharp and insistent: "He's still a man. Use that to your advantage."

My lips tugged into a smirk, and that tiny shift in expression was enough to make Jaxon falter for a fraction of a second. That was all I needed. Dropping my fighting stance, I sauntered toward him, channeling everything I'd learned from Becca and her obsession with romance movies. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that fueled my resolve.

When I closed the last bit of space between us, our bodies radiated heat, and I could feel the low vibration of his chest—a sensation I hoped was a pleasure. But I didn't stop to savor it for long. In a swift move, I leaped. Despite his size, the element of surprise was on my side, and I toppled him onto his back, straddling him in triumph. With his arms pinned to his sides, I grinned victorious down at him.

"Finally! I pinned you!" I stuck my tongue out like a child, basking in the giddiness of the moment.

But the celebration didn't last. Jaxon, never one to be outmatched for long, had a few tricks of his own. His eyes glowed crimson as he stayed perfectly still beneath me, except for one deliberate movement. He lifted his hips and rocked slowly against me. Heat flushed through my body, far more intense than the workout itself. The deep, teasing chuckle that followed left no doubt that he was fully aware of the effect he was having on me.

I was seconds away from losing control, on the verge of matching his rhythm and surrendering to the pull between us, when a loud gagging noise shattered the spell.

"I could have gone my entire life without seeing this, and I would've been perfectly fine," came the disgruntled voice from the sidelines.

I recognized Draven's voice and immediately scrambled off Jaxon, my embarrassment palpable. On the other hand, the Prince stood with far more grace, his face etched with amusement—a stark contrast to the heat rising in my cheeks. He stayed close, closer than I expected given the company, the red in his eyes still visible but slowly fading.

"Sorry to interrupt your... ahem, training," Harley said beside Draven. His teasing tone drew my attention to the two of them. Draven was still dramatically gagging, his finger poised inside his mouth like a child pretending to be sick. I wanted to throttle him.

I ignored their antics, lifting my chin and refusing to let their mockery get to me. Turning to Jaxon, I plastered on a wide, confident smile. "Thank you for the lesson today. Excuse me."

With a respectful bow and a casual wave, I walked past the two men who had interrupted my training, shooting them the most brutal glare I could muster. Without another word, I left the dojo, my steps quick as I made my way through the familiar halls of the manor. My curiosity piqued as I approached Queen Helen's office, wondering what she could need from me.

The door was open, a clear invitation to enter. Inside, the Queen stood beside a large fern, carefully watering it with the same grace she approached everything.

"Welcome, Madelyn." Queen Helen greeted me with an affectionate smile. "I called you here because it's time we discussed your mother's notes."

I shifted uncomfortably, guilt tightening my chest. Her smile faded as she brushed her fingers through her hair, loosening strands from the bun atop her head. She set the watering can down and gave me her full attention.

"You haven't looked at them yet, have you?" Her tone wasn't angry, but the quiet disapproval stung more than any reprimand could. It pierced straight through me.

I lowered my gaze, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. I really am. I've been focused on my guard duties and improving in training. I just... never made the time. I should have."

Helen sighed softly but didn't scold me further. "Well, we're going to make the time now. The notes are just as important as your training, if not more." She walked to her desk and unlocked a drawer, pulling out a folder identical to the one she had given me. With a gesture, she motioned for me to sit across from her.

As I approached, my heart pounded in my chest. The idea of finally confronting my mother's words filled me with a nervous energy I wasn't prepared for. Helen began unpacking the documents, laying them carefully on the desk.

The first thing I noticed was a photograph. My breath caught. It mirrored the painting I had seen when I arrived here—my mother smiling serenely. But this time, a man stood behind her, his presence commanding. I stared at the face I recognized immediately.

It was Warren.

"Marie began keeping notes on her missions once we realized Denallsh was far more powerful than anticipated. His ability to unite other supernatural groups under his banner was... astounding." Queen Helen slid the first sheet of paper toward me, covered in pictures of Cathcart Manor and one of Lord Denallsh himself. "We placed spies within his walls; some are still active today."

She paused, giving me time to absorb the information. I scanned the paper she handed over, which contained a list of names. Some were crossed out, while others had strange symbols beside them, indicating they had turned against Helen. My face tightened in disgust. Traitors. How could anyone align themselves with such a vile being?

"Denallsh tried his hardest to stop us from interfering with the Academy's collection services. We later discovered that he has financial stakes in your Academy and three others across the region. He gets a hefty cut from each sale and supplies hunters for their collections."

Helen flipped another page, revealing detailed notes on portal locations and hastily scribbled schedules. "Marie suggested stationing small groups at the portals when we learned they were hunting at random. We couldn't keep up with their unpredictable methods."

Helen's voice softened as she handed me a thicker booklet, heavier in my hands. "A few years later, we discovered another defect. That was when we finally started to get some real answers about the gene—what causes it and how it manifests."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There were... significant differences between your mother and Thatcher."

The initial pages detailed my mother's strengths and weaknesses, noting her exceptional skill in weaponry combat. They also mentioned her ability to listen to the whispers of the defect, though they focused more on her environmental surroundings than the enemies she faced. Medical studies indicated that the more she tapped into her powers, the less effective they became. Her heart was slowly taking damage, and speculation was that her body was moving faster than it could sustain. The defect gene enhanced certain aspects but left others distinctly human.

Following my mother's section was a report on Thatcher, an average-looking man with midnight black hair and a shorter frame. Unlike Marie, he was unaware of the whispers; he relied instead on sheer brute strength. Though his lean muscles didn't seem overly threatening, it was noted that he could uproot entire trees without straining. His medical reports echoed my mother's—his abilities diminished the more he used them. However, instead of heart issues, Thatcher faced increasingly severe problems with his kidneys.

My nerves tightened at the implications. What part of my body would begin to fail?

Helen saw the distress in my eyes. "Don't worry, Madelyn. It was nearly a decade after Marie unlocked her gene before we noticed any abnormal issues. Still, it would be wise for you to check in with the doctor occasionally."

She paused, her expression serious. "The last thing I want to bring to your attention is the most crucial. After that, I'd like you to go through the folder independently, as you were meant to." Her narrowed eyes indicated that she expected my full commitment to this task. I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. This was important information I needed to grasp.

Helen seemed satisfied with my resignation and gestured for me to take the last paper in the folder. As I did, a horrified gasp escaped my lips.

The accompanying picture was gruesome. Marie was drenched in blood and surrounded by bodies. No one had been spared; even small children lay outside modest homes, their mothers clinging to them, their lives snuffed out. At her feet lay Thatcher, his head severed from his body. I fought back the bile rising in my throat.

"You saw a glimpse of this yourself when you met Denallsh. We have no idea how, but he can control defects. Thatcher was the worst case we encountered. Typically, Denallsh can command them only for a short time or to perform actions that don't go against their nature. However, Thatcher lost all control. He became a puppet, devoid of free will, entirely at Denallsh's mercy."

A shadow crossed Helen's face. "I hate to admit it took us longer than it should have to realize this. An entire village of peaceful wickeds was slaughtered by his hands. We had intel indicating that he was trying to persuade their leader to pledge loyalty to Denallsh, but they refused." She frowned deeply, lost in thought for a moment. "In the end, he tried to frame us for the massacre. Thatcher was known to work for our manor, and we had no solid evidence to prove that Denallsh was orchestrating the entire affair."

"If it weren't for Marie being the one to finish it, we would have faced serious repercussions from the council. Instead, they labeled him a rogue defect and issued warnings against all defects, claiming they were unstable and unfit for any clan." I turned the paper over, desperate to avoid the gruesome image any longer. Helen took it from me and placed it back in the folder. "It was a futile warning; after Thatcher, there were no more defects. Until you."

I sat in silence, a heavy weight settling in my chest. I sensed that my destiny was far more complex than I had imagined. What had the Pixie meant? What had she foreseen about my future? Would I help resolve this feud, or would I become an enemy?

The Queen remained lost in her thoughts, allowing me to contemplate my fate. After a moment, she broke the silence with a chilling declaration. "The worst is upon us, Madelyn. I can feel it."

Maddie and Jaxon getting a bit more comfortable with each other, hu? It was nice to write, I'm glad they're finally getting bold with their attraction instead of hiding it. There's also quite a bit more information about defects and some side effects! I wonder if Maddie will ever have issues. Keep reading to find out!

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