Chapter 5: Stolen Necklace

Naya woke slowly, blinking at an unfamiliar ceiling before the memories of the night before crashed back into her all at once.

The dinner. The council’s laughter. Ronan’s silence while they tore her apart piece by piece.

She lay still for a moment, letting the ache settle before she made herself move.

A knock came at the door, followed almost immediately by a maid stepping inside without waiting for permission. "My lady, you need to prepare for the ceremony."

"What ceremony?"

"The pack must formally receive the King’s new wife," the maid said, already pulling garments from the wardrobe. "It’s tradition."

Naya’s stomach dropped. She’d barely survived one night of public humiliation. Now she was expected to stand in front of the entire pack.

She said nothing as the maid dressed her, choosing something simple rather than extravagant. If they wanted to call her a replacement, she wasn’t going to hand them the satisfaction of watching her fall apart too.

The ceremonial hall was packed when she arrived beside Ronan. Hundreds of faces turned toward her at once, and the whispers followed instantly, the way they always did now. Elara’s name. Seraphine’s name. Her own name, spoken like an afterthought.

Ronan stood beside her, cold and unmoved as ever. He didn’t offer her his arm or a single reassuring glance.

She didn’t need one.

An elder stepped forward, his voice carrying across the hall. "Do you understand the responsibility of standing beside the Lycan King?"

"I do," Naya said, her voice steady despite everything twisting inside her.

She repeated the vow of loyalty when asked, each word clear, without a single tremor. She felt the crowd’s attention shift subtly as she spoke, felt them recalibrating whatever picture they’d built of her in their heads.

She hadn’t given them the trembling, broken bride they expected.

For the first time since the wedding, something in her chest loosened. She hadn’t chosen any of this. But she could choose how she carried it.

Ronan glanced at her once during the ceremony. His expression told her nothing, but he didn’t look away as quickly as he usually did.

As the crowd dispersed afterward, Naya caught fragments of conversation that sounded different from the cruelty of the night before.

"At least she knows how to conduct herself."

"She didn’t embarrass the King."

It wasn’t praise. It wasn’t kindness. But it wasn’t laughter either, and for a few minutes, walking back toward her room, Naya allowed herself to believe she might survive this place after all.

That belief lasted exactly as long as it took her to reach her door.

A maid stood waiting inside, and two guards flanked the doorway when Naya approached. Something in the air felt wrong immediately.

"What’s going on?" she asked.

Neither guard answered at first. Then one of them spoke, his tone carefully neutral. "Something was found among your belongings."

"Found?" Naya’s confusion sharpened into unease. "What are you talking about?"

The maid stepped forward, holding a small jewelry box. She opened it without a word.

Naya’s breath caught.

A necklace lay nestled inside, delicate gold with a single pale stone. She recognized it instantly from the portraits in her room. Seraphine’s necklace.

"I’ve never seen that before in my life," Naya said.

"It was found among your things, my lady."

"That’s impossible." Naya’s mind raced. "I’ve never touched anything of hers. I didn’t even know—"

"Seraphine’s belongings were removed from this room after her death," the maid said quietly. "Everything personal was taken elsewhere. Only the portraits remained."

The implication settled over Naya like ice water. If everything had been removed, this necklace couldn’t have simply been left behind by accident.

"I didn’t take it," she said again, firmer this time.

"It was found in your things," one of the guards repeated.

"Then someone made a mistake."

"Why would Seraphine’s necklace be among your belongings," the maid asked carefully, "if you didn’t take it yourself?"

Naya opened her mouth and found she had no answer. She knew the truth. She hadn’t touched that necklace, hadn’t even known it existed outside the portraits.

But she had no way to prove it.

The atmosphere shifted the moment Ronan arrived.

Naya heard him before she saw him, the guards straightening instantly at his presence. He stepped into the room, and his eyes went straight to the open jewelry box.

Something in his face hardened in a way Naya hadn’t seen before. Not the usual coldness she’d grown used to.

This was grief curdling into something far more dangerous.

"I didn’t steal it," Naya said quickly, before he could speak. "I swear to you, I’ve never even touched it."

"Then how did it get there?" His voice was low, controlled in a way that frightened her more than shouting would have.

"I don’t know."

He stepped closer. Naya instinctively stepped back, but the wall stopped her before she could retreat further.

"Seraphine’s belongings were removed after her death," Ronan said. "I know exactly where every piece was placed. This necklace has no reason to be anywhere near you."

"I swear, I didn’t touch it."

His hand closed around her throat before she registered him moving.

It wasn’t enough to crush, but enough to steal the air from her lungs, enough to make her understand exactly how close his grief sat to violence. Naya’s fingers flew to his wrist, her pulse hammering beneath his grip.

"Tell me the truth," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"I... didn’t... steal it," she managed, the words scraping out of her.

His eyes searched hers, and for a moment she thought he might tighten his grip further. Then, just as abruptly, he released her.

Naya stumbled back, one hand flying to her throat as she gasped for breath. She stared at him, stunned that he could look at her and still believe, without a shred of doubt, that she was guilty.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t ask if she was hurt. He didn’t so much as flinch at what he’d just done.

To him, the evidence spoke for itself. Seraphine was dead. Elara had betrayed him and vanished. And now the replacement bride had apparently stolen something precious from the woman he’d loved.

"You will be punished for this," he said, voice flat and final.

"I didn’t do it," Naya whispered, her throat raw.

Ronan looked at her without a trace of mercy.

"Then you should have thought of that," he said, "before you stole from the dead."