The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

Aire remained exactly where she was, staring at the dark canopy above the enormous bed, listening.

There was no footsteps, no pages turning, and no soft tune drifting from the instrument beside the window.

Only the faint crackling of dying firewood inside the hearth could be heard.

She stayed still for another minute, then another.

She counted to sixty in her head twice and only after did she convinced herself the chamber truly belonged to her alone.

She slowly sit upright.

The blankets slipped from her shoulders, and the kiss returned to her conciousness again. She felt no warmth or longing, but just the memory.

Her lips pressed together before she even realized she was doing it.

She shut her eyes in disgust. She had betrayed her mates, and she wondered if they had felt it.

She refused to think about it.

That Chapter had already closed.

She had made a mistake, and nothing more. She only hoped her mates would be able to feel it wherever they are, and know that she’s alive, and waiting.

Xander once told her that no matter what suppresses a bond, an extremely strong feeling might be able to trigger it.

She hasn’t been able to feel it since she arrived here. However, she felt guilt last night.

She inhaled deeply before forcing herself out of bed. Cold stone greeted her bare feet.

The temperature helped. Pain reminded her that she was still capable of choosing a reason to leave this place over her emotion.

She crossed the room without hurry. She took deliberate steps and measured breaths.

She reached the window, and saw that morning had already settled over the Dark Fae Realm.

Purple mist drifted lazily between the distant towers.

Below, servants crossed courtyards carrying baskets and folded linens while armored guards changed shifts.

Aire rested both palms against the cool glass.

Yesterday she had nearly forgotten herself. She did that to trigger a feeling but still, it was really risky.

She had kissed a dark fae without thinking of the responsibility of what might happen to her. That frightened her more than this realm ever had.

Lyse had been kind, and Lysander had worn his face. That was all. One no longer existed. The other had lied every single day they had known one another.

She would not make that mistake again.

Never again.

She pushed herself away from the window.

Her silver hair was still twisted into the neat bun she had tied before sleeping, brushed lightly against the back of her neck.

Her hand instinctively reached toward it, then stopped.

She remembered the missing strand, and her fingers froze.

Morrigan.

Immediately every wandering thought disappeared. She stood perfectly still, and everything inside her sharpened.

Morrigan still had a strand of her hair. She knew nothing would work here without her hair.

Aire lowered her hand slowly.

She had been so overwhelmed yesterday that she had almost forgotten her hair would be her first step to escaping this realm.

She frowned.

The old wolf in the wolf realm used to whisper stories while weaving baskets beneath the trees.

"Never give strangers your hair. Never leave blood behind. Never answer a spirit after sunset."

She had laughed at most of those stories with her dad as a kid. Now she wasn’t laughing anymore.

She knew almost nothing about Dark Fae magic.

She needed it back.

Preferably before Morrigan decided to use it for whatever impossible thing dark fae considered ordinary.

Aire slowly turned.

Her gaze landed upon the bookshelves. Hundreds of books stared back at her. Yesterday she had only noticed them, but today she truly saw them.

There was history, politics, maps, languages, military records, astronomy, magical theory, botanical collections, ancient kingdoms, travel journals, and genealogies.

There were varieties of books.

Her pulse steadied at the sight of knowledge.

Knowledge had always been cheaper than swords, and armies yet infinitely harder to steal from someone once learned.

She walked toward them slowly. She walked slowly to remember what kind of books every row carried.

Her eyes skimmed the titles without touching them.

Her mother had once told her something while playing around with her. She had said, "Never grab the thing you actually want first. Instead, look everywhere else. Only then return."

She smiled faintly. The warmth she always got around her mother surrounded her.

She let her attention wander over the medicine. Only after several minutes did her eyes drift naturally toward a thinner collection tucked near the center.

She starred at the palace Architecture.

Her heartbeat changed. She continued looking elsewhere curiously. She reached for Palace Architecture.

The leather cover felt surprisingly smooth beneath her fingertips.

She opened it, and the first pages contained illustrations, columns, domes, archways, and construction techniques.

Nothing useful.

She continued turning pages, and then, she saw a diagram of another place.

She studied it anyway.

Her mind immediately began comparing them against the chamber around her..

She read another page, and saw the palaces were never built only for kings. They were built for servants.

Servants needed routes invisible to nobles. Every grand structure required unseen veins running beneath it.

If this palace had been designed by the same architects. It would have them too.

Aire closed the book. She slid it back exactly where it belonged. With not one inch differently.

Then she stepped away.

Her eyes swept across the room again as she measured the distance from the bed to the door, the door to shelves, the shelves to the fireplace, the fireplace to the window, and the window to the balcony.

Her mind quietly built the room again, brick by brick.

She could already close her eyes and walk through it without stumbling now.

A soft knock echoed against the chamber door, distracting her.

Aire didn’t flinch. She simply turned. "Enter." She said softly.

A young servant pushed the door open.

She couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

Dark curls framed her nervous face as she entered carrying folded clothing over one arm.

"My lady..."

Lady? Aire frowned at the title.

The servant kept her eyes lowered. "I was instructed to prepare fresh clothes."

Aire observed her quietly.

"Thank you." She said smoothly.

The girl looked almost surprised she’d been thanked. She crossed the room quickly before laying the clothing neatly upon the chair, then she immediately stepped backward, almost fleeing.

Aire frowned when she realized this wasn’t a fae. Just like her, this girl has no pointed ears. "Wait."

The servant froze.

Aire smiled gently. Her heart softened for a second, but hardened again in the blink of an eye. "What is your name?"

The girl hesitated. "Neria." She replied.

Aire repeated it softly. "Neria."

The servant nodded once.

"I’ve only been here two days." Aire lied, testing the waters to see if the girl knew her.

Neria blinked.

"Everything looks... confusing." Aire went on when Neria remained silent. "But I’m sure I’ll learn."

Neria relaxed slightly. "Yes, my lady."

Aire tilted her head. "I keep getting lost." She lied again, searching Neria’s eyes. "Would you tell me..."

She paused deliberately. "...which wing Lady Morrigan lives in?"

Neria’s expression changed instantly. "I..." she whispered lightly, visibly scared. "I shouldn’t say."

Aire swallowed. Her heart clenched, struggling to stay soft at the sight of Neria’s frightened expression.

She also noticed how Neria said, "I shouldn’t say."

Aire’s smile never moved. "I understand."

She rescued the girl before panic could set in.

"I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble." She was genuine this time. She meant it. From the look of it, Neria doesn’t know her.

Relief flooded Neria’s face. She bowed quickly. "Thank you, my lady."

She hurried from the chamber, and the door closed behind her.

Aire stood exactly where she was.

Then, she smiled very slowly.

Neria hadn’t answered, but she hadn’t needed to. She only needed to confirm Aire’s map guide.

Bow, she knew there was a wing. One that servants feared discussing, and was important enough to protect.

Aire’s eyes drifted back toward the bookshelves, then toward the chamber door.

A strand of her silver hair waited for her, and she intended to retrieve it.

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