The inn downstairs smelled like old wood and cheap stew.
Like the kind of place that didn’t ask questions because questions got you stabbed.
Lenora picked a corner table anyway.
Not because it was comfortable.
Because it had only one side open.
Sphinx sat in her lap like a shadow given fur.
Lenora’s fingers moved through Sphinx’s coat like counting prayer beads—slow, steady, the same motion over and over like if she stopped, something inside her would crack.
Across from her, Lewd held Mia like if she let go, the world would tilt again.
Vespera sat upright, shoulders squared, rings orbiting lazily as if they were trying to pretend they weren’t on edge.
And Riven…
Riven sat too still.
Knees tucked in. Hands folded. Smile placed carefully on her face like a mask she didn’t know how to wear.
She watched everyone’s mouths when they spoke.
She watched their hands.
She watched their throats.
Then jerked her gaze away like she’d been caught doing something shameful.
Lenora cleared her throat.
“Names,” she said.
No softness. No warm welcome.
Just structure.
“Lenora Strayheart. Leader. These are mine.” She scratched Sphinx under the chin. “Sphinx. Mia.”
Lewd swallowed. “Lewd…” she said, then added quickly, like she was afraid the silence would bite her, “and… Blight Vein.”
The book hugged to her chest didn’t respond.
But it felt awake.
Vespera’s gaze moved, assessing. “Vespera. Eldest of the dragon sisters. Contracted to Derpy.”
Riven blinked.
She leaned forward a little, like she was trying to copy the posture.
“I’m Riven,” she said.
Then, after a pause, like she was searching for the correct next piece: “Friend.”
Lenora’s eyes narrowed.
Riven corrected herself immediately. “Ally. Maybe.”
Lewd’s ears twitched. “You… you can do that? Just… decide?”
Riven’s smile brightened at being asked a question.
“I try,” she said.
Sphinx rumbled low in Lenora’s lap.
Riven’s eyes flicked to him.
Her smile didn’t change.
But something behind it did.
Hunger.
Control.
Practice.
Lenora’s hand paused in Sphinx’s fur.
“Rule one,” Lenora said. “You don’t eat anyone at my table.”
Riven nodded fast. “Okay. No eat.”
Lenora stared at her for a beat longer.
Then she shifted the conversation where it belonged.
“Now,” she said. “Derpy.”
The name landed like a weight.
Lewd’s grip tightened on Mia.
Vespera’s rings tightened their orbit.
Riven’s head tilted, listening.
Lenora spoke first, because she always did.
“He’s changing,” she said. “And I don’t like surprises.”
Vespera’s jaw flexed. “It’s not a surprise to me either.”
Lewd’s voice came out small. “Is he going to… be okay?”
Lenora’s eyes didn’t soften.
But her hand kept petting Sphinx.
“He’s alive,” she said. “That’s what we have.”
Vespera leaned forward. “We need to take him to the Valley of Dragons.”
Lenora’s gaze snapped up. “No.”
The word hit the table like a knife.
Vespera’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to—”
“I do,” Lenora cut in. “Because I’m the one who keeps them breathing.”
Lewd flinched.
Riven blinked slowly, like she was learning what conflict looked like when it wasn’t claws.
Vespera’s rings flared, then settled.
She forced her voice into something calmer.
“The Valley has healers,” Vespera said. “Scholars. Elders. They know dragon blood. They know what wings mean.”
Lenora’s stare didn’t move.
“Or,” Lenora said, “it’s a side effect of his calamity book.”
Vespera’s nostrils flared.
Lenora didn’t let her breathe.
“It’s from your nation,” Lenora added. “Isn’t it.”
The air went tight.
Lewd’s ears flattened.
Vespera’s voice went low. “Celica’s Embers is not ‘from my nation.’ It is a calamity. It belongs to no one.”
Lenora’s eyes stayed hard. “It belongs to him right now.”
Lewd swallowed hard. “If… if that’s what happens when you bond with a calamity…”
Her voice shook.
“Will I turn into like that?”
The question hit the table and didn’t bounce.
Lewd looked down at Blight Vein like it was suddenly a stranger.
“I’m not sure I want my book,” she whispered.
Her hands trembled.
Then she did something that made Lenora’s spine go rigid.
Lewd set Blight Vein on the table.
Not gently.
Not violently.
Like she was putting down a sleeping animal and praying it didn’t wake up angry.
The cover pulsed.
A soft glow crawled along the edges.
Not sinister.
Not hungry.
Upset.
Like a pout.
Like it hated being separated.
Riven’s eyes widened.
She leaned closer.
Not to touch.
Just to listen.
“It’s loud,” Riven murmured.
Lewd’s throat bobbed. “It’s… upset.”
Lenora’s voice went flat. “Pick it back up.”
Lewd hesitated.
Lenora didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t need to.
“Pick. It. Up.”
Lewd’s fingers closed around the book again.
The glow eased immediately.
Like it had gotten what it wanted.
Lewd’s eyes shimmered with tears. “That’s not normal.”
Vespera watched her, expression unreadable.
“It is for calamities,” Vespera said.
Lewd’s shoulders curled inward. “That’s worse.”
Riven tilted her head. “Books feel.”
Lenora’s gaze snapped to her. “You don’t get to be the expert here.”
Riven’s smile faltered.
Then she nodded, obedient. “Okay.”
A pause.
Then Riven added, softly, like she was confessing: “I’m trying.”
Lenora didn’t respond.
But her fingers resumed their slow motion through Sphinx’s fur.
Lewd wiped her cheek with the back of her sleeve.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
Vespera’s answer came instantly.
“Valley of Dragons.”
Lenora’s answer came just as fast.
“Not yet.”
Riven’s answer came after a beat.
“…Watch him,” she said. “Listen. Don’t leave alone.”
Lenora’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the first useful thing you’ve said.”
Riven’s smile returned—small, pleased.
And then the inn door slammed open.
Laughter spilled in.
Too loud.
Too confident.
A pack.
Five wolf girls swaggered through like they owned the floorboards.
They were all fur and teeth and easy cruelty.
The leader had silver-gray hair, a thick tail, and a grin that said she’d never apologized in her life.
She scanned the room.
Her eyes landed on Lenora’s table.
And she smiled wider.
“Well, well,” she said. “Look what the fog coughed up.”
The wolves slid into the nearest table like they were claiming territory.
The leader kicked her boots up on a chair.
“Name’s Raska,” she announced, like it was supposed to mean something. “And this is Vambasta’s inn.”
Fenward didn’t have laws.
It had packs.
Lewd stiffened.
Lenora didn’t move.
Vespera’s rings tightened.
Riven watched them with the same fascinated stillness she’d used on everyone else.
Raska’s pack introduced themselves without being asked.
A lean wolf with golden eyes and a laugh that sounded like a bark snapped her fingers. “Kiva.”
A smaller one with dark fur and a sharp, mean mouth tilted her head. “Nessa.”
And the last—youngest—hung behind them.
A little wolf girl.
Brown hair. Soft ears.
Her eyes kept flicking away like she didn’t want to be seen.
Raska hooked an arm around her shoulders and tugged her forward.
“And this,” Raska said, voice syrupy, “is Vambasta’s little sister. Vemi.”
Vemi’s ears pinned down.
She didn’t smile.
She didn’t laugh.
She just sniffed.
Once.
Twice.
Her gaze drifted past the tables.
Toward the stairs.
Toward the rooms.
Toward the smell of blood.
Vespera noticed.
Her posture sharpened.
“Little wolf,” Vespera said, voice smooth, too smooth. “Come back. I need to ask you a question.”
Vemi paused.
Raska’s head snapped around.
The pack went quiet for half a second.
Then they got louder.
Kiva barked a laugh. “How dare you talk to Vambasta’s little sister like she’s some stray pup.”
Nessa leaned forward, grin sharp. “This is her inn. She can go wherever she wants.”
Raska’s eyes flicked to Lewd’s book. “And you’re sitting real comfortable for people who don’t belong here.”
Raska leaned back, stretching like a cat.
“There’s a toll,” she said. “For you to be here.”
She smiled.
Predatory.
Comedic.
Like she thought cruelty was a joke everyone should laugh at.
“Pay up,” Raska said, “or leave.”
Lewd’s throat tightened.
Mia’s ears pricked.
Sphinx’s rumble deepened.
Lenora’s hand stilled.
Riven leaned forward slightly.
Her eyes moved over the wolves.
Measuring.
Then she spoke, voice calm and honest.
“They’re annoying,” Riven said.
The pack blinked.
Riven tilted her head. “Can I eat them?”
Silence.
Then Kiva burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
Raska’s grin sharpened. “Oh, I like this one.”
Lenora didn’t even look at Riven.
“No,” Lenora said.
Riven nodded. “Okay.”
Lenora turned back to the wolves.
Her voice went level.
Reasonable.
Like she was talking to drunks instead of predators.
“We’re paying for food and rooms,” Lenora said. “That’s the toll.”
Raska clicked her tongue. “That’s cute.”
Kiva leaned forward. “Cute and wrong.”
Nessa’s smile showed too many teeth. “Maybe we take it in blood instead.”
Vemi flinched.
Her ears went lower.
She sniffed again.
And started to drift toward the stairs.
Vespera’s rings flared.
Lenora saw it.
Understood instantly.
Not because she knew wolves.
Because she knew what it looked like when someone scented weakness.
Lenora reached into her pouch.
Pulled out gold.
Set it on the table.
Not tossed.
Placed.
A deliberate choice.
A leader buying time.
“Take it,” Lenora said. “And go.”
Raska’s eyes glittered.
She scooped the gold with a laugh.
“See?” she said to her pack. “Easy.”
Kiva stood, stretching. “Pleasure doing business.”
Nessa winked at Lewd. “Try not to cry too loud upstairs.”
Raska’s gaze lingered on Blight Vein like she could taste it. “We’ll be around.”
Raska hooked her arm around Vemi again.
“C’mon, pup,” she chirped. “Let’s let the outsiders breathe.”
Vemi didn’t look back.
But her nose twitched.
And her eyes stayed on the stairs.
The pack left in a wave of laughter and fur.
The inn noise slowly returned.
Lenora didn’t relax.
Not even a little.
Lewd’s hands shook.
She stood up abruptly, chair scraping.
“I’m going to watch over Derpy,” she said.
Lenora’s gaze softened by half a fraction.
“Go,” she said. “And lock the door.”
Lewd nodded.
She hugged Blight Vein tighter.
Mia pressed into her side.
And as she walked toward the stairs, the book’s cover warmed against her chest—possessive, comforted, alive.
Behind her, Lenora kept petting Sphinx.
Slow.
Steady.
Like a promise.
And across the table, Riven watched Lewd go with a strange, quiet focus.
Not hunger.
Not this time.
Something else.
Something that looked uncomfortably close to wanting.