Chapter 4: Wolves in Silk
The morning air was crisp, sharp with dew and the faint scent of pine drifting in from the eastern grove.
Noel stood at the estate's front steps, dressed in a navy-blue noble's coat with silver trim and a crisp white shirt beneath. His boots were polished. His hair, for once, was neatly combed. The sword hung securely at his left side, the black scabbard gleaming faintly in the early sun.
Behind him, the great manor loomed—elegant and cold, like a monument to expectations he was never meant to meet.
The carriage waited at the bottom of the stairs. Polished black wood, silver trim. Two midnight-colored horses pawed quietly at the cobblestones.
The staff stood in line beside the doors, expressionless.
And then the family arrived.
Lord Albrecht led the procession. Stoic. Towering. Dressed in a dark high-collared coat with the family crest across his shoulder. He looked at Noel as one might study a statue—checking for cracks.
Behind him came the wives.
Lady Mirelle wore deep violet silk and a thin, unreadable smile.
"You're truly traveling alone?" she asked, her voice smooth as glass. "How brave."
Lady Serina stepped beside her, her expression softer but no less hollow.