Chapter 140

Lila

I only wanted air. Feeling trapped in my rooms under constant guard was wearing on me. I may not have had a strong wolf, but the need to roam was still essential.

The corridors near the eastern stairwell were quiet, mostly unused this time of day. The sun slanted through narrow windows, gilding the dust in lazy shafts of gold.

I moved slowly, being conscious not to fatigue myself or fall again. Wrapped in a thin wool cloak that didn’t quite warm me, I drew the hood up to hide my face more from habit than need.

No one noticed me here. Except my two guard shadows trying to keep a discreet distance.

The palace felt like it was holding its breath lately, at least when I was able to take these brief walks; hushed footsteps, whispered voices, eyes that didn’t quite meet mine.

Something was happening, and I was in the dark as to what it was.

My feet carried me toward the lower garden stairs, a shortcut I wasn’t technically permitted to use but I didn’t care. I needed space, wind, the illusion of freedom.

At the corner where the stairs narrowed, hidden in shadow pooling beneath an arch of carved stone, I paused at the hushed voices around the bend. They were young, and female.

“—heard it was forged,” the first said, hushed but not quiet enough for my ears to hear. “Not just redirected. Rerouted entirely.”

“To who?” the second voice whispered.

“Lord Carrin, I think. He had that fever after the ambassador left. He got her room, her care team. It came down in the middle of the night, right after Lady Lila collapsed.”

I leaned into a nearby tree, fingers pressed flat to the rough bark, blood draining from my hands.

“Are you saying the healer was ordered to move her mother?”

“I’m saying it had the King’s seal. That’s all I’m saying.”

The second voice paused with a sharp inhale. “Do you think Lady Lila knows?”

“She was unconscious. And now… well, he hasn’t exactly told her much, has he?”

Their footsteps receded, along with their conversation. They never knew I was there.

I stared down at the ground, unmoving. The gardens felt too open now, my eyes burned with unshed tears.

Her care was rerouted.

That was the night I’d collapsed. And then my mother’s health got worse. And all this time… Damon said nothing.

The cloak suddenly felt too tight. My lungs, too small. I stepped away from the path and walked aimless, feet dragging, until I wandered back inside towards my rooms. The echo of my steps followed me down the corridor, unsteady and sharp.

Damon’s seal. Damon’s seal.

It looped in my head, the way a fever dream circles. The phrase didn’t feel real in the way words didn’t look right if you repeated them over and over again.

I reached the stairwell, placed one hand on the banister, and gripped it like it might keep me upright. My other hand hovered over my heart, above the place that suddenly felt hollow.

Damon hadn’t told me about the messages from the infirmary. He hadn’t told me about whatever threat was making the palace on edge. He hadn’t answered when I begged to know the truth.

And now… this.

A decision about my mother’s care made without me. The list of things carried out for my supposed “safety.”

My mother could’ve died. She likely still would. And I wouldn’t know if it was because of something he chose.

I turned away from the stairs, almost returning to the garden, but I didn’t want the air. I just wanted something solid to hold on to, but all I had were whispers and the lack of a true mate who saw me as an equal partner.

And that was worse than any lie either of us have told.

I finally wandered back to my room, the guards closing the door behind me with a softness that didn’t match the storm in my chest.

I moved like a ghost through the room. Fitting, I thought, since I’d been compared to the ghost of Damon’s first mate since arriving.

The hem of my cloak trailed over the rugs, my fingers loosening the ties at my throat without thought. I left it on the chair. Then my boots. Then everything that felt too heavy for skin that felt too hot.

The window was open a sliver. I stood beside it without really seeing anything, staring through the glass at a world moving around me. Without me.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there before Emma came in.

She knocked once, then pushed the door open carefully, her arms full with a tray of tea and what looked like warm bread, wrapped in linen. Comfort. The kind you offer someone grieving.

Emma had become my handmaiden when I wasn’t looking.

She hesitated in the doorway when she saw me.

“I thought you might need something,” she said, her voice low.

“Thank you. You can set it on the table, please.”

She obeyed without question, placing the tray on the low table beside the chaise. Then, she sat across from it.

“Your mother’s condition has improved slightly,” she said. “The fever seems settled. She’s resting now.”

I nodded, slow and measured.

Emma waited, watching me. “I thought you’d be relieved.”

“I am.” I turned from the window and met her eyes. But my voice betrayed me. It sounded empty, hollowed out.

Her brow furrowed. “Lila, what’s wrong?”

I walked across the room, picked up the book Damon had given me, and turned it over in my hands like it might have the answers he refused to give me.

“When someone signs a royal order,” I asked softly, “how often is that decision questioned?”

Emma blinked, surprised at the seemingly random question. “What kind of order?”

“Medical reassignment. In the infirmary.”

She stiffened slightly. “It depends on the rank, but if it’s sealed by the King…”

“No one questions it,” I finished for her. The book closed with a soft snap in my hands.

Emma stood slowly. “What are you really asking about?”

“I heard the servants,” I said. “They didn’t know I was there. They said my mother’s care was rerouted the night I collapsed. That the healer received new instructions with Damon’s seal.”

Her lips parted in a silent breath.

“They think he did it to keep me compliant,” I added, my voice sharp at the edges. “That it was calculated.”

Emma took a step forward. “Lila, no. That can’t be…he wouldn’t—”

“But he didn’t tell me,” I said, cutting her off. “He didn’t mention it. Not once.”

Emma faltered. “Maybe he thought it would—”

“What?” I whispered. “Break me?”

Emma looked at me with something like heartbreak. “He cares for you, Lila. I’ve seen it. Even if he doesn’t always say it…”

“I don’t need him to say it,” I murmured. “I needed him to trust me. To treat me as a partner, a true mate. And he didn’t. I’m not sure he’s capable.”

I placed the book back on the table and turned away. My body felt numb. Not weak like before, just… as if the ache had finally quieted. It wasn’t healed in the slightest, it had learned to hide better.

“Thank you for the tea,” I said softly, signaling the conversation was done.

Emma lingered a breath longer, then nodded and stepped out. The door closed behind her with the same soft click it had opened with.

I sat on the edge of the chaise, folded my hands in my lap, and stared at the door like it had taken something with it when it shut.

I realized I was no longer waiting for Damon to come back.

I was preparing for the moment I asked him not to.