Chapter 7: The White Blanket

The baby blanket arrived folded inside a silver box. No seal. No courier name. No record at Frosthold's gate. The morning tray sat outside Nora's door--tea, oat bread, Dr. March's aggressively cooked eggs. Beside it, a box rested, catching the corridor light. Nora didn't touch it. She called for Wren. Five minutes later, her room held Darius, Wren, Dr. March, two guards, and a black wolf who had settled by the hearth and refused to leave. "Sable is not a guard," Wren said. The wolf stared at him. Darius said, "She disagrees." Nora stood by the window, arms crossed over her stomach. "Can we open it?" Dr. March sniffed the box. "No poison on the exterior." "That's comforting in a narrow way." "Most comforts are narrow." Darius took the box himself. Nora disliked that. She disliked more that she was glad it was his hand and not hers. Inside lay a baby blanket. White. Soft. Embroidered with tiny silver moons. For one heartbeat, Nora's chest ached. She owned nothing for the child except the burned proof and a secret whispered in snow. The blanket was beautiful. That made it worse. Darius lifted it with two fingers. Something fell from the folds. A strip of blue ribbon. Luna blue. Nora knew before Darius picked it up. Iris had worn the same shade on the dais. The message was written in neat black ink. Little heir, little lie. Snow hides many small graves. The room went so quiet Nora heard the fire crack. The words were only ink, but she felt them as hands on her throat. Blackridge hadn't needed to know the baby's name, age, or heartbeat to hate it. The possibility was enough. A life no bigger than a secret had already become an enemy to people who wore silver rings and called themselves civilized. Dr. March swore first. Wren reached for the ribbon, but Darius closed his hand around it. "No." His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. Nora walked across the room and took the blanket from the box. Wren made a warning sound. She ignored him. The fabric was clean. No scent except lavender, smoke, and one faint trace of perfume. Iris. Nora pressed the blanket to her stomach. The wool was soft against her palms. She felt the small weight of it, the warmth of her own body through the threads. Darius watched her carefully. "You don't need to keep that." "I know." "It was sent to frighten you." "It did." She didn't lie. She'd been frightened since the test burned. Fear didn't make her weak. It made her precise. She laid the blanket on the table. "How did it get through your gate?" Wren looked humiliated. "We're reviewing." Darius still held the ribbon. "No need." Wren turned. "Your Majesty?" Darius unfolded the ribbon and angled it toward the light. Pressed into the lower corner was a tiny mark in wax, nearly invisible unless someone knew how council documents were tied. Nora did. "Winter Council courier seal," she said. "Yes." Wren's face hardened. "Blackridge used a Council channel." "Or someone at the Council used Blackridge." Darius looked at Nora. "Either way, this is useful." Useful. The word steadied her. At Blackridge, threats had been private. Private pain could be denied. A public channel changed things. A Council seal on a threat to a pregnant protected witness wasn't cruelty. It was evidence. "Can we prove the ribbon came through Council hands?" Nora asked. "If the receiving clerk is sloppy or frightened," Wren said. "Most clerks are both," Nora replied. Darius's gaze flicked to her with something like approval. His eyes lingered a second longer than necessary, and Nora felt heat climb her neck. Dr. March took the blanket and examined the embroidery. "This was done quickly." "How can you tell?" "Knots are uneven. Whoever ordered it cared about the message more than the child." Nora's hand settled over her stomach. The small life inside her was still silent, still secret except to too many enemies. She looked at Darius. "I want to attend the Winter Council." Wren said, "Absolutely not." Dr. March said, "Medically foolish." Sable huffed. Darius said nothing. Nora faced him fully. "If I stay hidden, Iris controls the story. Rowan controls the documents. Elder Callum controls the ledgers. They'll keep sending boxes and orders until I react like prey." "And at the Council?" "I react like evidence." Wren muttered, "I hate that that makes sense." Darius's expression stayed unreadable. "The Winter Council meets in four days." Nora's pulse jumped. "Blackridge will be there?" "Every ranked Alpha north of the river will be there. Including Rowan Vale." Her wolf rose, not in panic this time. In recognition. Nora touched the white blanket one last time, then handed it to Wren. "Seal it as evidence." Darius looked toward the window, where snow moved over the mountains between Frosthold and the pack that had thrown her away. "Then in four days," he said, "Blackridge learns the woman it buried in snow can still walk." Nora's breath caught. She held his gaze a moment--long enough to see something dark and quiet in his eyes, a possessed stillness that made her stomach tighten. He didn't reach for her. He didn't need to. Four days. She could count them in heartbeats.