Luna stood near the doorway, arms folded, her silver eyes watching Judas and Nina by the sewing machine.
The soft crackle of fire filled the room as Judas leaned in close behind the wolf girl, guiding her hands with exaggerated gentleness.
He touched her here and there in the guise of teaching: brushing her wrist, tapping her shoulders, placing his hand over her smaller fingers. Nina's ears twitched the entire time, red and trembling.
Luna sighed quietly. Hooligan.
She tried to keep her face blank, but her heart felt tight in her chest. Watching them like this unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Her childhood rose from the shadows of memory, unwelcome as ever. The elven palace. The cold marble halls. The whispers that always followed her.
A mother who smiled too brightly in front of her demon lover. A father whose attention drifted to anyone offering him power.
An entire childhood wrapped in silent rivalry. Every daughter, every servant girl, every noble lady was an enemy in her mother's eyes.
Every kindness was a trap. Every affection was borrowed and breakable.
She had grown up surrounded by jealousy, surrounded by the fear of being replaced.
So she dreamed of one thing. A simple thing. A selfish thing.
A husband who would never look at another woman. That was her quiet wish. Her fragile treasure of a dream.
And yet here she was, married to a man who had two other wives on the same day he married her.
Her lips tightened. It felt like fate had seen her wish and laughed.
She looked at Judas again. He was guiding Nina's hand as she worked on a cloth, speaking softly in her ear. Nina was practically melting.
Do these two have no shame? Luna clicked her tongue and looked away. Her pointed ears warmed in irritation, though not entirely from anger.
Perhaps she hated this most: Judas was not cruel. He didn't seem to be the type of man who ignored his wives or pushed them aside.
He laughed easily. He tried to care, even when he was clumsy about it. He looked at them as if he genuinely wanted to protect them.
That made everything more confusing.
She did not blame Nina. The wolf girl had the innocence Luna never had the luxury to keep. Even now, she wagged her tail as if affection was a gift she had been craving her whole life.
Luna envied that simplicity.
She rested a hand over her own chest. I wanted a man who wanted only me. It was a foolish thought, but it lingered like an old wound.
The Elf realm had fallen. Her demonic father and her mother both died in the war. The palace burned. Her lineage crumbled to ash. Everything she knew vanished overnight.
She wandered alone until humans caught her. Shame wrapped around her like a second skin.
And now, here she stood, watching a man she married only to avoid being used again. A man who cooked for her. A man who smiled at her. A man who…
Judas turned suddenly and caught her staring.
He grinned. "Luna, want to learn too?"
Her ears twitched. She looked away sharply.
"No. I am only watching so you do not burn the house."
Hooligan, she thought again, though her chest felt strangely warm.
It was annoying.
More annoying was how much she wanted to join them. How much she wished he would touch her hand and guide her, too.
But she would never say it aloud.
* *
Ezra sat on a low stool near the window, sharpening her knife with a slow, steady rhythm. The metallic scrape echoed softly in the dim room.
Her eyes, dark and unreadable, kept drifting toward the stove where Judas stood behind Nina, guiding her movements like a patient teacher.
Nina accepted every touch without protest. She even leaned into him, trusting him with a softness that made Ezra tighten her grip on the blade.
The wolf girl's tail swayed lightly each time Judas corrected her hand or murmured something encouraging.
Ezra watched with a hint of disbelief. How can she trust someone she met this morning? How can she give him that softness so easily?
Trust had never come simply for Ezra. Her memories rose like thorns that pierced her skin.
Her mother's voice telling her to stay hidden. Her sisters' trembling hands. The day her father surrendered them to the enemy kingdom in exchange for his own safety.
She remembered the sound of the soldiers dragging her mother away. Her sister's screams. The smell of blood that soaked the ground near the gates.
She had been saved by an old maid who hid her beneath floorboards and helped her escape into the night. Ezra survived only because someone had chosen to protect her.
When she returned days later, hoping her mother and sisters had somehow lived through the nightmare, she found the bodies instead.
They had ended themselves before the enemy empire could violate them.
Ezra closed her eyes for a breath. The memory never softened.
If they had strength, would they have needed to do that?
If they did not rely on a father who crumbled under pressure, would they have had the power to save themselves?
Ezra had asked herself that question a thousand times. She felt the bitterness settle in her chest once more.
I hate how easily a woman believes depending on a man is a good idea. Dependence makes you weak. It makes you breakable.
Her jaw clenched as she watched Judas laugh softly as Nina spilled a drop of broth and whimpered.
He only tapped her forehead and corrected her posture again. Nina giggled as if the world were kind.
Ezra looked at the two of them for a long moment. Her eyes remained steady, but something unreadable flickered in their depths.
She did not hate Judas. But she hated what she saw in Nina. A woman allowing someone else to hold her safety. A woman choosing to lean instead of stand.
Ezlra believed strength must come from within. Anything else could be stolen or destroyed.
Her knife slowed. She realized Judas had stopped teaching and was looking straight at her.
"Can you help to move this table a bit, towards the fire?"
Ezra blinked, caught off guard. Her fingers halted on the blade.
For a moment, her heart felt strangely unsteady.