Veer’s father’s jaw tightened.
"And that woman," Robert pressed on, "is young. She looks barely into her twenties. She’s been around our young lord for months. And not just him—there are other beastn around her too."
He let the silence stretch for a beat.
"So how," Robert asked slowly, "does she not have even ’one’ child?"
The room went still.
Veer’s father stared at him, eyes narrowing, mind clearly racing now.
Robert held his breath.
Then—slowly, like ice cracking—a smile spread across Veer’s father’s face. Cold. Cruel. Satisfied.
"Yes," he murmured, almost to himself. "How did I forget?"
He turned fully to Robert, and for the first ti in weeks, there was approval in his gaze. Real approval.
"Good point, Robert." His smile widened. "Why ’shouldn’t’ she have a child by now?" He nodded once, sharp. "She should."
Robert exhaled in relief, a bright smile breaking across his face. "Thank you, my lord."
Veer’s father turned back to the window, but his posture had changed. No longer just angry. Now he was ’thinking’. Planning.
If that woman was infertile—if she couldn’t give his son an heir—then the tribe elders would never accept her. The marriage could be challenged. Broken. She could be cast out, shad, sent away.
And his son would finally be free.
His smile sharpened like a blade in the dark.
"Perfect," he whispered.
Robert stood behind him, quiet now, watching his lord’s shoulders relax for the first ti in days.
The plan was set.
And Kaya had no idea what was coming.
Veer’s father didn’t waste ti.
The mont Robert left, he called for the tribe elders—every single one who held weight in the council. He sent ssengers running through the mountain paths, knocking on doors, pulling old n from their sleep and their als. Within an hour, they had gathered in the main hall, confused but alert, because when the tribe leader’s father summoned them with that kind of urgency, it was never for nothing.
"Elders," Veer’s father began, voice steady and cold. "I need your support. There is a matter concerning my son’s future—and the future of this tribe—that cannot wait any longer."
The room went quiet. The elders exchanged glances, so curious, so wary.
"What matter?" one of the older n asked, leaning on his staff.
Veer’s father straightened, letting the weight of his words settle before he spoke. "The woman my son intends to marry. Kaya." He let the na hang in the air like an accusation. "She has been here for months. Living under his roof. Bearing his scent. And yet—" he paused, letting the silence stretch, "—she has no child."
A few elders frowned. One or two nodded slowly, as if the thought had already crossed their minds.
"Our tribe’s fertility rate is the highest in the region," Veer’s father continued, voice rising with conviction. "Our bloodline is strong. Our won conceive easily, and our n are virile. So tell —how is it that this woman, in her pri, surrounded by beastn, has not produced even one heir?"
The murmurs started low, then grew louder.
"That is strange," one elder muttered.
"Perhaps she is infertile," another said.
"Or cursed," a third added darkly.
Veer’s father hid his satisfaction behind a mask of concern. "Exactly. And if she cannot give my son an heir, then what use is this marriage? What future does it promise our tribe?"
The elders shifted, uncomfortable but intrigued. This was dangerous talk, but it was also logical. Tribal law was clear: a union that could not produce children could be challenged. Questioned. Even dissolved.
"I propose," Veer’s father said, voice firm, "that we go to my son’s house. Now. And we demand answers."
The room hesitated for only a mont.
Then, one by one, the elders nodded.
...
Back at the house, Kaya had finally gathered enough strength to face what she’d been avoiding.
Liam.
He’d been cleaned up—bathed, dressed in fresh clothes, fed just enough to keep him alive but not comfortable. Now he sat on the floor near the corner, wrists still bound, eyes sharp despite the days he’d spent locked in that box. He looked thinner, paler, but that smug little smile was still there, lurking at the edges of his mouth like he knew sothing they didn’t.
Kaya sat across from him, arms crossed, eyes cold. Veer stood to her left, Cutie to her right. Sparrow leaned against the wall, watching quietly.
"Alright," Kaya said flatly. "Let’s start simple. Who sent you?"
Liam tilted his head, smile widening. "No one."
Kaya didn’t flinch. "Try again."
"I ca on my own," Liam said smoothly. "Curiosity, mostly. Heard there was a vulture beastman getting soft over a human woman. Wanted to see if it was true."
"Bullshit," Veer muttered.
Liam’s eyes flicked to him, amused. "Believe what you want."
Kaya leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "You jinxed us. You targeted Sparrow. You caused the storm, the injuries, the ’accidents.’ You didn’t do all that for fun."
Liam’s smile didn’t falter. "Maybe I did."
Kaya’s jaw tightened. She was about to push harder, about to make him regret that smile, when—
A loud shout echoed from outside.
Then footsteps. Heavy. Multiple.
Kaya’s head snapped toward the door. Veer straightened imdiately, instincts on alert. Cutie moved closer to Kaya without a word.
"What the hell—" Sparrow muttered, pushing off the wall.
The door slamd open.
Veer’s father stood in the doorway, flanked by six tribe elders, all of them grim-faced and tense. Behind them, a small crowd of curious onlookers had gathered, murmuring amongst themselves.
Kaya stood slowly, eyes narrowing. "What is this?"
Veer stepped forward quickly, blocking his father’s view of Kaya. "Father," he said, voice tight but controlled. "What are you doing here?"
His father didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed locked on Kaya, cold and sharp as a blade.
"I’m here," he said loudly, "to address a matter that concerns this entire tribe."
Veer’s frown deepened. "What matter?"
One of the elders stepped forward, staff tapping against the stone. "Your intended mate, Veer. There are questions that need answers."
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