Continue the Story
The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride – Episode 06
By the time Wren slipped back into Wolfhart Castle, the torn clouds had released a cold, needling rain. Hunter’s coat hung heavily from her shoulders, concealing her damp dress but not the mud on her shoes or the scratches across her hands. She entered through the servants’ passage, hoping to reach her room unseen.
Laughter spilled from the great hall before she crossed the kitchen. The engagement celebration had outlasted the violence in the forest. Music, wine, and congratulations flowed as though Nikolaus had never cornered her beside the creek—or returned with blood on his cheek and hatred in his eyes.
“The Alpha’s daughter and our strongest warrior,” a guest declared as Wren approached the doorway. “A perfect match for the future of the Eclipse Pack.” Goblets struck together, and Anneliese accepted the praise with a radiant smile.
Nikolaus stood at her side, freshly washed and dressed in another ceremonial coat. The thin cut Wren had given him showed beneath one eye. When he noticed her in the shadows, his fingers tightened around his wineglass, but his charming expression never slipped.
Wren’s first instinct was to retreat. Gertrude would demand to know where she had found the coat, and Nikolaus would twist the truth before Wren could make anyone understand. Then she remembered Hunter stepping between her and three wolves, his voice unshaken as he said silence was not consent.
She had spent years leaving rooms to make life easier for the people who hurt her. Tonight, retreat would protect Nikolaus, not herself. Wren released the doorframe and walked into the golden light.
The whispers began almost immediately. Pack members stared at the oversized black coat, then at her muddy hem. Wolfless girl. Cursed mute. The familiar insults moved from mouth to mouth, quiet enough that no one could be accused of cruelty and loud enough for Wren to hear.
Anneliese spotted her and stiffened. “There you are. You vanish in the middle of my celebration and return looking like a drowned beggar.” Her gaze narrowed on Hunter’s silver clasp at the collar, though she did not seem to recognize it. “Must everything be about you?”
Nikolaus rested a possessive hand at Anneliese’s waist. “Isn’t that what she wants?” he asked the room. “She tried to ruin your engagement party with that hideous cake. Now she’s jealous because she knows she’ll never have an engagement of her own.”
Laughter broke out near the high table. Wren’s face burned, but she kept walking until she stood where everyone could see her. The distance between her and Nikolaus felt smaller than the creek clearing, yet the entire Eclipse Pack surrounded him now.
Gertrude rose from the Alpha’s chair. The smoky stone at her throat caught the chandelier light and seemed to swallow it. “Explain yourself,” she said, fully aware that Wren could not obey in the way the audience expected.
Wren lifted her hands. She pointed to Nikolaus, then formed the signs for follow, forest, and attack. The kitchen workers understood her. A few gasped, but most of the nobles frowned as if her moving fingers were a childish performance.
Nikolaus watched until her meaning became unmistakable. “She claims I followed her?” He gave a disbelieving laugh. “I went looking for the poor thing after she trespassed on Silver land. That is the thanks I receive for trying to bring her home.”
Wren shook her head fiercely. She signed three men, trapped, touched, and no. Her hands trembled as the memory returned—the twist of her wrist, the threat murmured against her ear, claws emerging when she fought back. She forced herself to complete every motion.
The hall quieted. Those who knew her language understood enough, and explanations passed in hushed fragments to those who did not. For one fragile moment, disgust appeared on several faces as they looked toward Nikolaus.
He smothered it with outrage. “You’re always trying to blame someone else for your shortcomings!” His voice rang across the hall. “You wandered into enemy territory, and I risked myself to save you. Now you invent this filth because Anneliese has everything you want.”
Anneliese pulled away from him only long enough to confront Wren. “You expect me to believe my fiancé abandoned his own celebration to chase you?” Her eyes swept over Wren’s plain face and slight frame. “Why would a man like Nikolaus want anything from you?”
The question wounded more deeply than Wren expected. Some foolish part of her had hoped that sisterhood might outweigh vanity, that Anneliese would recognize terror even if she refused to recognize Wren’s words. Instead, she preferred the lie that preserved her perfect future.
Nikolaus pointed at Wren as though he were the injured party. “Look at her. She cannot shift, cannot speak, and cannot contribute to this pack beyond carrying plates. Accusing me is the only way she can make anyone notice her.”
Wren’s hands dropped. Pain crowded her chest, but beneath it rose the fierce certainty she had found beside the creek. The curse had taken her voice. It had not taken her memory, her judgment, or the truth.
