Chapter 109

Damon

The garden was nearly silent, save for the wind teasing the leaves and the faint trickle of water from the marble fountain. I spotted her by the moon lilies—alone, her arms crossed over her chest, head tilted back like she was searching the stars for answers I hadn’t given her.

She didn’t turn when I approached, her focus set on the sky.

The gravel beneath my boots crunched too loudly I was worried I would scare her as I stopped a few feet away. Close enough to see how tense her shoulders were. How her jaw was clenched.

“I thought I’d find you here,” I said quietly.

She didn’t seem to hear me.

My voice sounded useless even to me. Words didn’t fix things. Not anymore. Not after the Council. Not after Isabella. Not after I let silence poison what had once been the safest space between us.

“Lila,” I tried again.

She turned then. Slowly. Her eyes were unreadable—dark and wide and tired. I’d seen her cry. I’d seen her furious. But this expression cut deeper than either.

“Just tell me,” she said. “What am I to you? The truth. Not the title. Not the bond. Me.”

I swallowed, throat thick. “You’re—”

“No more riddles,” she snapped. “Not after everything. I need to know what this really is.”

The air pressed in around us, cool and sharp. The scent of rosemary and damp soil curled under it all, grounding and familiar.

I took a breath and stepped closer. “You were never supposed to be her.”

Lila flinched—but didn’t step back.

“And I hated that you looked like her,” I continued, voice low. “Not because it made me confuse you—but because it made me afraid.”

Her lips parted slightly. I kept going.

“She died in my arms, Lila. Natalie did. And the part of me that buried her has stayed buried ever since. You… you unearthed something I didn’t think could come back. And I was terrified that loving you meant I’d lose you too. That you’d die and take whatever was left of me with you.”

Her breath caught. My own heart felt like it was pulsing against bone.

“I didn’t choose you because of the mark,” I said. “And I didn’t keep you out of guilt or politics. I fought it. Every damn step of the way. But you kept showing up. You kept standing up. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

My hand hovered between us for a moment before I reached out, brushing her fingers with mine. “And somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing anyone but you.”

She was trembling. So was I.

“What I feel for you… it’s not a replacement. It’s not Natalie’s ghost. It’s you. It’s always been you, it just took me a while to see it.”

Lila didn’t say anything for a long time. The night swelled around us. A breeze lifted her hair and caught mine. We stood there in the quiet, not quite touching, but tethered just the same.

“I don’t want you to love me because you’re afraid of losing me,” she said finally. “I want you to love me because I’m worth choosing. On my own.”

I nodded slowly. “You are.”

And I meant it. Every single word.

Lila

The garden held its breath. I sat on the edge of the old stone bench, half-shaded by the flowering arch of night blooming jasmine.

Damon’s voice still echoed through me, even in silence. His confession, his pain, the way he had stripped himself bare in front of me—not as a king, but as a man grieving, aching, and unsure.

I had imagined this moment a thousand ways. But none of them had felt like this.

I didn’t rush to fill the quiet. I didn’t reach for him, didn’t soften with a kiss or some breathless whisper of forgiveness.

My hands stayed folded in my lap. My back straight. My heart a slow, thrumming ache that spread out across every inch of me.

He was still beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost brushed. Still not touching. His presence was steady, warm, and waiting. Like he was afraid that if he reached too soon, I might vanish.

And part of me wanted to. Not from fear—but from the aching vulnerability of wanting to be seen so completely.

"I don't want to be your second chance," I said at last, voice low.

He flinched, but didn’t look away.

I stared straight ahead, watching a moth drift through the twilight. “I need to know that when you look at me, you really see me. Not a shadow of what you lost. Not the girl you think you failed. Just me.”

His breath caught, audible in the hush between us. “I do.”

“Do you?” My voice cracked. “Because I’ve spent every day in this palace wondering if I was losing myself. Only to find out I was just lucky enough to look like someone else.”

He turned toward me fully then. I could feel the heat of his gaze like sunlight. “You’re not a reflection,” he said quietly. “You’re a fierce partner, strong and independent. And I’m sorry it took me so long to see into you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I didn’t wipe it away.

“I’ve been called a liar, a witch, a fraud. I've been threatened, interrogated, humiliated. And still, the hardest thing…” My voice faltered. “The hardest thing has been not knowing if the only reason I was wanted was because I reminded you of someone you lost.”

Damon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them like he was praying. Or confessing.

“I was afraid,” he said. “Afraid that if I chose you, it would mean letting go of Natalie completely. Afraid that if I lost you too, I wouldn’t survive it.”

I inhaled slowly. The air smelled like night and memory. “But I’m not her.”

“I know.”

“Then why does everyone still question it?” I turned to him, finally meeting his eyes.

His voice was rough with emotion when he answered, “Lila.” And gods help me, hearing it nearly undid me.

That one word, said like it was the only truth he knew, broke something open inside me. It was the first time I felt him choose me—not out of need, not out of guilt, but out of knowing.

“I don’t have answers yet,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I can be what the kingdom expects. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop second-guessing my place. But I know that I need to be seen. Not as your redemption. Not as a symbol. Just as myself.”

He reached for my hand slowly, as if asking permission with every inch. I let him.

Our fingers brushed. Just that. Not a promise. Not forgiveness. But something small. Honest.

The garden hummed around us, alive and blooming. A night breeze stirred the petals of the jasmine above, scattering white across the path like confetti from a wedding long forgotten.

He said my name again, softer this time. “Lila.”

And for the first time, I believed he meant only me.