But moments after I handed the payment to the registrar and prepared to confirm the ritual time with the High Moon-Healer, a young maid stepped in front of me.
“All the bone-menders… every last one,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear, “have been reassigned.”
I blinked at her, stunned, thinking it must have been a clerical shift or ritual scheduling error.
When I asked for an explanation, she leaned in, voice barely above a breath.
“It was Alpha Draven’s command. The specialists were summoned to tend to Lady Molthaven.”
Myrielle Molthaven. The name hit me like a blow.
“Lady Molthaven hasn’t eaten in days,” the maid went on nervously. “She fainted this morning… and twisted her ankle when she fell. The Alpha was worried about long-term damage, so he ordered the entire bone-menders circle to examine her.”
A piercing ring filled my ears. The hallway warped and tilted.
I seized the girl’s wrist. “Please—my father can’t wait! His leg won’t heal on its own. He needs the ritual now!”
The maid swallowed, but her gaze slid away.
No one in the healer-sanctum dared defy an Alpha’s directive.