A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate

[Ovelia’s POV]

We had finally walked a good distance away from the bustling, now-closed Tumble-Top Towers stall, the sounds of the remaining festival-goers fading into a comfortable background hum. Filafelia had already distributed the winnings with brisk efficiency. Ace received his ten percent as the victor, a heavy pouch that he tucked away without comment. Ray, Ann, Gale, and I also received our shares.

I hadn’t expected a share at all, since I’d only bet my stuffed toy, but Filafelia insisted with a wink, saying "It’s a symbol of your support! It counts!" I was happy, but handling large sums of money made me nervous, so I immediately handed my small, heavy pouch to Ann for safekeeping.

The two large stuffed toys were another matter. They were comically oversized, and I had to hug them tightly to keep from dropping them. The soft fur tickled my chin.

"Lady Ovelia, I can carry those for you, if you wish," Ann offered, her voice gentle. Her hands were already half-outstretched, ready to relieve me of the burden.

I shook my head, adjusting my grip. The fairy’s wing poked my cheek. "It’s okay, Ann. I’ve carried much heavier things in the past than this," I said, giving her a smile that I hoped looked more confident than I felt. The memory of water buckets and firewood from Timberline was sharp, but it was a strength I could still call upon. "I’m all right."

"You could just throw away that wolf toy to lighten your load," Gale commented from ahead, his tone dripping with casual disdain, not bothering to look back. He walked with his hands shoved in his pockets. "It’s ugly, anyway."

"If you think that’s ugly, what does that make the fairy you gave her?" Ace shot back, his voice holding a mocking edge as he glared at Gale’s back.

"Huh? Do you want to start something?" Gale stopped walking and turned around, a challenging smile twisting his lips. The air between them crackled with old, familiar antagonism.

"You two, stop—" I began, trying to step between them, but suddenly Ray was beside me.

"Let me borrow those for a moment," he whispered, his voice a low, calm rumble close to my ear.

Before I could even respond, his long arms reached over and smoothly plucked both stuffed toy from my grasp. He held them aloft, looking from Ace to Gale with the weary authority of a schoolmaster confronting two rowdy pupils.

"You two," Ray said, his voice losing its usual easygoing warmth and gaining a layer of firm, no-nonsense steel. "Carry them yourselves." He then thrust the silver wolf stuffed toy toward Ace and the fairy stuffed toy toward Gale, holding them out until there was no choice but to accept.

Both of them fell silent. Ace’s jaw tightened. Gale’s scowl deepened. But neither refused. They each took their assigned toy back, handling them with a begrudging, almost comical gentleness—Ace holding the wolf by its middle as if it were a sleeping child, Gale tucking the fairy back under his arm with a huff. The irritation on their faces was plain, but so was their tacit obedience to Ray’s unspoken command.

"Thank you," I said softly, feeling both relieved and a little amused.

Ace’s free hand found mine immediately, his fingers lacing through my own with a firm, possessive grip. He didn’t say a word, just stared straight ahead, his profile stern in the flickering light from a nearby hanging lantern.

"You all act like children," Filafelia observed, skipping along beside us. Her small size and cheerful demeanor made her look incredibly young and cute.

"If anyone talks like they’re not a child, it’s you, Fizzer!" Gale retorted, the old nickname slipping out.

"You—!" Filafelia spluttered, her cheeks puffing out.

"Don’t mind him, Fila," Ann said, falling into step beside the young witch. She shot Gale a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. "He has a handsome-ugly face and is still grumpy as always."

"Tsk," was all Gale said, turning his head away, but his ears looked faintly pink.

Handsome-ugly? I looked at Gale’s profile. His white hair fell over his forehead, and his sharp gray eyes were fixed on some distant point. In the soft light, with his fine features set in their usual frown, he did look like a storybook snow prince—beautiful but carved from ice. When he was angry, that cold beauty took on a dangerous, prickly edge. Handsome-ugly fit him perfectly. The thought made a small, private smile touch my lips.

I was beginning to think being grumpy was just his permanent state, like the color of his eyes. But sometimes, beneath the sharp words and the scowls, I could feel a strange thread of... amusement. As if he enjoyed the friction, the bickering, the messy reality of being around people who wouldn’t leave him alone.

[Ray’s POV]

I let my senses expand, filtering the night air. The scents were a complex tapestry. My ears picked out individual conversations from the murmur, the crunch of footsteps, the sigh of the evening breeze. My orange eyes, sharp even in the dim light, scanned the shadows between houses, the stalls, the faces in the thinning crowd.

Nothing. No scent of malice, no sound of stealth, no glimpse of concealed features or masks. The perimeter was clear, for now.

My attention settled on Filafelia, who was now walking normally, humming a tuneless little song. Her happiness was genuine, but a witch apprentice of the Queen didn’t travel this far on a whim.

"Fila," I said, my voice casual but pitched to carry over our group’s chatter. "Why are you in Meadowlark? I don’t think you came all this way alone just for festival fun."

She jumped slightly, as if pulled from a daydream, and looked up at me. Then her gaze darted away, a telltale flush creeping up her neck. "I... I was looking for some rare ingredients. For a potion I’m working on with Master." Her voice started nervous but grew more confident as she mentioned her teacher. She looked back at me. "Also... I’m not alone. I’m with Master."

Her scent held no deception—she was telling the truth. But her face was now fully flushed, the blush vivid even in the lantern light. She always did that around me. So, Queen Sabrina was here, or had been. I glanced at Ace. He was looking directly at me, his silver eyes intense. I didn’t blame him for the worry I saw there. His relationship with his mother was a complicated, painful thing, strained further by her exile from Silverhowl after the King learned of her witch heritage.

Ace turned his focus to Filafelia, his voice tighter than before. "Where is my mother? Why isn’t she with you now?"

"Master left the village yesterday," Filafelia answered, her tone becoming more professional, though she still couldn’t quite meet his eyes for long. "She said she was following a lead, doing some... field investigation. She didn’t specify." She then added quickly, her voice firming with loyalty, "But don’t worry! She’s perfectly well and healthy. More than capable."

I saw the subtle release of tension in Ace’s shoulders, the slight softening around his eyes. Relief, however guarded.

"Do you think she already has a theory about the black magic restraints?" Ann asked, her voice low and practical. She was always thinking steps ahead.

Filafelia nodded, her dual-colored hair bouncing. "We’ve confirmed it. Those restraints function as mana siphons. They absorb and store werewolf mana. The forging process requires dark mana, which is why witches are involved in their creation." She delivered the information crisply, the apprentice reporting to allies.

So Gale’s forbidden knowledge was accurate. I looked at him. He was walking a few paces ahead, ostensibly scanning the festive stalls we passed, but his posture was alert. He was listening.

"Master reported all of this to the palace yesterday, just before we left the kingdom," Filafelia continued, her chest puffing out with importance. "As far as I know, King Raymond has already sent formal alerts to the other four kingdoms—Crimsonheart, Atlassian, Shadow, and Amethyst. He’s initiated a full ban on the production and distribution of black magic restraints within Silverhowl and is urging the other monarchs to do the same."

If Father already had the facts about the restraints and the dark mana, that was one major hurdle cleared. It would make reporting the more nebulous, terrifying concepts of Thaumamorphs and Flesh Hunters slightly easier. At least the foundation of the threat was acknowledged.

"As expected of your king," Gale commented without turning around. "He knows which way the wind blows." He then glanced back at Filafelia. "Didn’t think you’d be so well-informed, shrimp. For someone your size."

"Of course I am! I’m Master Sabrina’s apprentice. I need to know what she knows," Filafelia retorted, her pride stung. Then her expression faltered, a shadow crossing her young face. "So that... so that just in case something ever happens to her, I can..." She cut herself off, shaking her head vigorously as if to dislodge the thought. "No! Master is strong! Nothing bad will happen to her!" She finished, her voice defiant, forcing the positivity.

"Right," Ace agreed, the single word heavy with a son’s complex faith.

Filafelia gave him a bright, grateful smile. Then her gaze drifted forward again, landing on Gale’s back as he walked ahead of us. She watched him for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly. She looked down at the cobblestones, then back at Gale. Down again. Up again. It was a furtive, curious pattern.

Then she glanced at me. When she saw I was already observing her, her eyes went wide. A fresh, blazing blush erupted across her face, from her neck to the tips of her ears again. She made a tiny, choked sound and quickly looked away, focusing with immense concentration on the path ahead.

What’s her problem? The curiosity, a familiar and often useful itch, took hold. Her behavior wasn’t just about a childish crush on me anymore. Something about Gale had caught her professional—or perhaps personal—interest. It had to be the sealed elemental stone.