Elena looked at Cura, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. Her complexion grew ashen, and her body trembled involuntarily.
“My lady, it might be best to come inside for now,” Cura suggested, her voice gentle yet firm.
Elena had little choice but to follow Cura as she guided her into the bedroom. Once inside, Cura seated Elena on the bed and closed the window, drawing the curtains shut.
When Cura returned, she assisted Elena in removing Kennard’s cloak, which she had been wearing. Elena remained silent, her eyes fixed on the cup of warm tea that Cura had poured and placed on the bedside table.
“Please have some. It will warm you up,” Cura urged, her voice carrying a comforting tone.
Elena accepted the cup and saucer with gratitude. The cup’s rim was adorned with delicate gold accents, and daisy flowers were intricately engraved in red and blue.
As Cura observed her, Elena took a slow sip of the tea. Its gentle and soothing aroma enveloped her senses, warming her from the inside out.
“Elena, do you happen to know what our tribe is?” Cura inquired gently.
“The White Fox Tribe,” Elena replied without hesitation.
Cura tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It seems like you’ve lost your memory and only retain old memories. Terra Demorte is no longer the territory of the White Fox Tribe.”
Elena felt a sharp gasp catch in her throat. “That can’t be.”
“Now it’s our Wolf Tribe’s territory, specifically the Black Wolf Tribe. Among them, Grand Duke Kennard, a pure-blooded Black Wolf, rules over Terra Demorte.”
The room seemed to echo with the loud clinking of the cup and saucer as Elena’s grasp tightened involuntarily.
“You probably didn’t know. After all, I haven’t told you that we are a Wolf Tribe. It’s hard to distinguish tribes unless we mention it. Still, even if we didn’t say it, you must have realized that Duke Kennard doesn’t belong to the White Fox Tribe just by looking at his appearance.”
Indeed, no one would mistake Kennard for a member of the White Fox Tribe, not with his ebony hair and fiery eyes that seemed to have a touch of infernal fierceness.
“But how did you keep the memory that the White Fox Tribe ruled?” Cura leaned closer, her eyes searching Elena’s face.
“I don’t know. Until just now, I didn’t even know that the White Fox Tribe had ruled over Terra Demorte.” Elena’s own words surprised her as they left her lips, as if she were uncovering hidden truths buried within her mind.
“I think the memories you had forgotten just resurfaced unconsciously. I’ll inform Leto. Is there anything else you remember?” Cura asked, her concern evident in her voice.
Elena remained bewildered. She couldn’t retrieve any specific memories about the White Fox Tribe that she had mentioned. Attempting to recall only left her with a hazy and blank mind, trapped in a dense fog. The unsettling presence she felt grew stronger, churning her stomach as if she were on the verge of vomiting.
“It might be better for you to rest for today,” Cura suggested, her hands clapping together as she observed Elena’s increasingly pallid complexion.
Elena acquiesced, following Cura’s lead and lying down on the bed. Yet, a curious curiosity tugged at her thoughts, prompting her to seize Cura’s hand, which had been in the process of covering her with a blanket. Seeing Cura’s startled expression, Elena realized she had clutched her wrist too tightly and quickly released it, sitting up.
“Can you transform into a wolf like Cura? What about others?”
Cura’s lips curved in a faint smile, her head tilting slightly. “No, most of us, including me, can’t transform. Serin and the knights can achieve it through training, but among the nobility, it’s rare to find someone who can perform a perfect transformation. Even those who can rarely match Duke Kennard’s mastery.”
“Like Duke Kennard?”
“Yes,” Cura affirmed. “You saw it earlier, didn’t you? It’s a commanding form, as if they could engulf the world with their sheer size and overwhelming presence.”
Elena nodded, memories of that imposing sight resurfacing, her heart quickening in response.
“Moreover, Duke Kennard possesses a unique scent that allows us to recognize him. When those pheromones are strong, we can’t even breathe or move. Enemies, and even us, are intimidated,” Cura explained.
Elena recalled the sensation that had washed over her whenever Kennard had appeared, the air itself seeming to grow dense even before she laid eyes on him, as if it were pressing down on her.
As she listened to Cura’s explanation, Elena began to grasp the situation a bit better, but it also ignited fresh concerns. “You mentioned that his scent becomes stronger when he’s angry, right?”
Cura nodded. “Yes.”
Elena’s worry deepened.
“Could it be that Duke Kennard is angry with me for something?”
