It was colder than she expected when she stepped out of the room. Although it was not the weather that chilled her but the man waiting there. Gerard stood in front of the door and stared at her with a stern face, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Dress," he said curtly. "We have to leave now."
Gisela held her breath and stared at him in bewilderment. She had the urge to ask him why or where they're going, but she bit her lips and remained silent instead. It was of no use to question him. Not like she had a say anyways.
She nodded slightly and lowered her eyes like a dutiful child, fidgeting with the edge of her shawl. She turned quickly and walked back to her chamber. As soon as the door closed, she pressed her back against it, her chest rising and falling too fast. She shut her eyes, inhaling deeply, as though air itself had become scarce. For a moment, she let her head rest against the door, wishing it could shield her from what waited outside.
Her shoulders sagged, a quiet shrug as if she were trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her. At last, she left the door and walked to where she dropped her gown. With trembling fingers, she grabbed it and put it on.
When she was ready, she walked back to the door and stood there for a while, her hand on the latch. She whispered a prayer she wasn't sure anyone would hear, then straightened her spine and stepped out.
Gerard studied her for a moment before speaking. "You look presentable."
She forced herself to nod. But Gerard's gaze lingered on her face, and for the first time his voice softened slightly. "You're pale. Does your heart fail you so soon?"
Her lips trembled before she forced them into stillness. "My heart obeys the moon," she murmured, eyes fixed on the floor.
Gerard tilted his head, studying her. "A wise answer. Keep it so, and you'll endure what is asked of you."
A flicker of defiance sparked in her chest, but she crushed it down, only bowing her head again. "Yes, Gerard."
"Good," he replied, offering his arm, though she did not take it. "Come. The council waits."
Gisela walked in silence beside Gerard, her steps slow, as if her body resisted the path laid before her. Every torch seemed to leer at her, every watching eye a reminder that she was no longer free to dream of love, no longer free to choose.
At the far end of the chamber stood the elder's son, Hagen.
He was broad-shouldered, with a heavy jaw that spoke of bluntness rather than grace. His hair was the color of ash, his eyes a muddy gray, but not enticing. He carried himself with the self-importance of a man who had been told since birth that his name was enough, his bloodline enough.
"Gisela," Gerard said, his voice formal. "This is Hagen, son of Ulric, heir to the elder's seat. Your union will bring strength and honor to Iron Woods."
Her throat tightened instantly. Union, she scoffed within at the thought of that.
Hagen's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. He stepped closer, bowing stiffly. "It is said you are the jewel of the pack," he said. "That your beauty alone could command loyalty."
He stared at her from head to toe, while she stared at him with a deep frown on her face. "I see they did not exaggerate."
Heat burned her cheeks, not from flattery but from shame. She lowered her eyes, wishing she could tear herself away, wishing Renard was still close enough to protect her.
"I will treat you with respect," Hagen continued with a deep voice. "You will bear strong sons, and together, we will uphold the will of the council. You should be grateful, Gisela. Few women are promised such a future."
Gisela pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to say a word, even though she had a lot on her mind to let out. Grateful, everyone might agree with him, but to her it's like an insult.
Gerard's hand pressed against her back, urging her to answer. She swallowed hard, forcing her lips to move. "I… am honored." The words were dry ash in her mouth.
But inside, her instinct screamed at her. Gisela glanced at Gerard, only to find him nodding at her with a broad smile on his face. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head, forcing herself to remain calm no matter how it was.
As Hagen reached for her hand, she felt a strange shiver down her spine—not from his touch, but from something else. For a moment, her vision flickered, and she saw another face, one she did not recognize—eyes like midnight, burning with sorrow and rage.
She jerked her hand back, breathing heavily as she tried to calm her nerves. "Is something wrong?" Gerard asked sharply, confusion etched on his face.
"No," Gisela said quickly, clutching her fingers to her chest. "Only... only the cold."
Hagen chuckled, mistaking her fear for shyness. "Do not worry, little wolf. You will soon grow used to my presence."
Her stomach knotted, and she looked up at him with a stern face. At the same time, the council doors slammed shut behind them, sealing her fate. Gisela looked behind her instantly, only to realize that Gerard was no longer behind her. And though she forced her chin high and her back straight, Gisela felt the weight of invisible chains settle around her throat.
Far away, in the forgotten ruins beyond the Iron Woods, a howl tore through the night—a sound no one in the hall seemed to hear, except her.
Her heart stilled. The storm in her blood pulsed again. Although she didn't know what it was, she could tell that something wasn't right.
''Gisela,'' Hagen murmured, bringing her mind back to reality.