Nina stared at his face, her lips parting slightly.

Then she blinked.

What was she doing?

He wasn’t the only person in the entire Vermont Pack with a grey wolf.

Why had she immediately thought it was him?

He didn’t even know where she was.

Her lashes fluttered, and she looked away.

"I’m sorry," she said quickly. "I must have been mistaken."

She turned before he could answer.

"I’ll leave you to it."

The door clicked shut behind her.

Rodrigo stood silently, staring at the space where she had been.

His jaw ticked once.

Nina didn’t stop walking until she reached her quarters.

She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood solid and cool against her back.

Her eyes closed slowly.

She drew in a long breath.

What are you doing, Annalise?

Her hands clenched at her sides.

She stood there until the noise in her chest settled into something she could manage.

The knock came before she was ready.

Nina opened the door.

Lady Gina and Moreen stood on the other side.

Gina’s gaze swept over her once, from head to toe, the way someone checked a room before stepping inside.

"Good morning, Luna. I hope you were not affected by the tussle of the previous night."

Nina forced a smile.

"Not at all."

Gina nodded once and turned to Moreen.

"Good. Get her ready."

Her eyes returned to Nina.

"Your training starts today."

She was already walking away before the sentence finished, her footsteps fading down the corridor.

Nina stared after her for a moment before turning to Moreen.

"What training?"

Moreen stepped into the room and placed a box on the table—one Nina hadn’t noticed until now—before smoothing the front of her apron.

"Etiquette training, my lady. If due procedure had been followed, it would have been completed before the wedding, but given the circumstances—"

Nina stopped listening.

She exhaled through her nose and let her gaze drift to the ceiling.

At this rate, she would never find the Vothraki.

"Is it compulsory?"

"Yes, my lady." Moreen’s eyes darted sideways before returning to her. "The Matriarch enforced it herself. I overheard her telling Lady Gina that it must be followed strictly."

Nina sighed quietly.

"Alright."

She needed the distraction anyway.

Something to occupy her hands and her mind—something that wasn’t the grey wolf or the way her pulse had lurched the moment she’d looked up at Rodrigo’s face.

She stepped forward.

Then stopped.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

The floor tilted beneath her, sudden and wrong.

She reached for something that wasn’t there.

Moreen caught her before she hit the ground, both hands gripping her arms as her voice cut sharply through the ringing in Nina’s ears.

"My lady!"

Nina held on to her and stayed perfectly still.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Slowly, the room stopped spinning.

"My lady, what is wrong?" Moreen’s face hovered close to hers, pale and worried.

Nina straightened carefully and pulled away.

"I’m fine."

Her gaze dropped to her hands.

They were trembling.

She pressed them together quickly and crossed to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her—composed, dressed, her expression giving nothing away.

But her heart hammered against her ribs loud enough that she half expected Moreen to hear it.

Behind her, the girl was still talking, her words sliding past Nina without landing.

Was this a side effect of the reincarnation?

"My lady?"

Moreen’s hand settled gently on her shoulder.

Nina schooled her expression and glanced back at her.

"Let us begin."

A few moments later, Moreen smoothed the back of Nina’s dress with both palms.

"All set, my lady."

Nina stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror and blinked once, forcing herself into the present.

She drew in a slow breath.

She was overthinking.

Stress from the previous night.

Exhaustion.

Or the beginning of something her body was struggling against.

Whatever it was, she would visit the infirmary after training.

She turned to Moreen and smiled.

"Let us go."

The east wing was quieter than the main quarters.

Fewer people.

Less sound.

As though everyone there had, without discussion, agreed to keep their voices low.

Footsteps didn’t echo through these corridors so much as disappear, absorbed by the thick walls before they could travel.

Their steps carried them up a staircase and along a long corridor until Moreen stopped before a set of double doors and knocked once—short and precise.

"Come in."

Nina recognised Lady Gina’s voice through the wood.

She straightened her shoulders, pushed the doors open, and stepped inside.

Then she stopped.

There was another woman in the room.

She stood near the window with a thin wooden stick resting loosely at her side.

She was short, somewhere in her late fifties, her hair pulled back so tightly it looked structural.

Her dress was immaculate.

Her posture was so perfect it seemed unnatural, as though she had never once considered slouching.

The moment Nina crossed the threshold, the woman’s eyes lifted to hers.

And stayed there.

Not the way people usually looked at her.

Most people glanced, assessed, and moved on.

This woman looked at her as though she knew her.

Nina’s brows furrowed slightly.

She held the gaze for a beat before looking away and crossing to one of the chairs.

Even after she sat down, she could still feel the woman’s eyes on her.

"This is Lady Emory," Lady Gina said as she rose from her seat. "Your tutor for etiquette training."

Lady Emory moved away from the window in measured steps and inclined her head—barely enough to count.

"It is an honor to finally meet you, Your Grace."

Her voice was warm.

Her eyes were not.

That was the part that made Nina’s shoulders tighten.

"The pleasure is mine," Nina replied evenly.

Gina folded her hands behind her back.

"Lady Emory oversees etiquette, deportment, and marriage preparation for the noble daughters."

A brief pause.

"Starting tomorrow, you will join the group sessions."

Nina’s brows lifted.

"It won’t be private?"

"It should have been," Gina said, which wasn’t an answer.

"But you are the Luna now. You’ll need to make alliances. The wives and daughters of this court do not give their loyalty to someone they have not had the opportunity to measure."

Nina swallowed and said nothing.

Gina glanced at Moreen.

"Leave the box and take your leave."

Moreen dipped her head and slipped out.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"You may begin," Gina said.

Emory looked at Nina.

She let a full second pass before moving, her eyes conducting another slow, quiet inventory.

Then she crossed the room toward her, steps unhurried, the stick tapping softly against her palm.

Nina stiffened as she approached.

The woman leaned in.

Too close.

Her eyes sharpened, focused, as though she were reading something written beneath Nina’s skin.

Nina leaned back instinctively.

Then Emory straightened and smiled.

Warm.

Practiced.

"Luna."

Her gaze moved slowly across Nina’s face.

"Your fame has travelled far beyond these walls. I have heard a great deal about you."

A pause.

"Your beauty does not disappoint."

Nina kept her smile in place.

She glanced sideways at Lady Gina.

Gina’s face remained unreadable.

"I’m honored," Nina said, shifting slightly in her chair.

Emory began to circle her.

Nina stared straight ahead and tracked her by sound—the measured rhythm of her footsteps, the faint tap of the stick.

She stopped behind Nina’s shoulder.

A beat of silence.

Then the stick touched her spine.

Not hard.

Just sharp enough.

Placed with deliberate precision.

Nina’s back straightened before she consciously decided to move.

"Upright," Emory said simply.

She moved around again and tapped the backs of Nina’s hands where they rested tangled in her lap.

"Cupped. On your thighs. Like this."

She adjusted Nina’s fingers herself, slow and unhurried, before stepping back.

Nina kept them there.

Emory circled once more, the stick trailing behind her shoulder.

Nina didn’t move.

The room settled into silence.

The footsteps stopped in front of her.

Emory tilted her head slightly, studying her.

Then she turned to Lady Gina.

"There is considerable work to be done."

Nina sat straighter, though she was already sitting perfectly straight.

What exactly was wrong with the way she was sitting?

Lady Gina’s eyes flicked to her briefly before returning to Emory.

"The Hunt is a month away. What are we to do?"

They spoke quietly between themselves for several minutes.

Nina kept her spine straight, her hands cupped, and her expression smooth.

She watched them without appearing to.

And she thought about trembling hands.

Blurred vision.

And a grey wolf she had no business thinking about.

Eventually, Emory turned back to her.

"What skills do you possess?"

Her tone wasn’t quite a question.

More like the opening of a ledger.

"The harp. Singing. Embroidery. Painting. Dancing."

She paused.

"What do you have?"

Nina blinked.

Marjorie had never given her the luxury of learning anything that didn’t serve the household.

While Sabrina sat in warm parlors with soft thread and patient instruction, Nina had knelt on cold stone floors, scrubbing, washing, and folding until the skin on her hands cracked.

There had been no afternoons set aside for her.

No one who thought to ask what she liked.

And Annalise—whoever she had once been before Nina arrived in her body—whatever she had known, whatever quiet talents she had possessed, remained locked behind a wall with no door.

Her memories were nothing but blank space.

She looked at Emory.

Then at Gina.

Both women stared back expectantly, waiting to be pleasantly surprised.

Nina met Emory’s gaze.

"Nothing," she said.