Chapter 155

Damon

The vial was smaller than I expected.

There was no grand chest, no ornate container, just a slender glass tube sealed with wax, filled with liquid so faintly luminous it seemed to hold its own quiet heartbeat.

It sat on the low table between us, catching the light from the single oil lamp in. For a moment, the world narrowed to nothing but that vial.

Half a cure, Zane murmured in my head, low and distrustful. Half a leash.

I clenched my jaw and forced my gaze upward.

Ella sat opposite, draped in crimson silks, her posture loose with satisfaction. Elena lingered by the railing with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. I’d stopped expecting her to speak when her mother was present.

Whatever objections she might have had, they’d been swallowed long ago under her mother’s shadow.

“You’ve kept your end of the bargain,” Ella said, voice smooth and saccharine. “I trust you’ll do the same tomorrow evening, when the council gathers.”

The engagement announcement. The performance. The lie I had to feed them all.

I reached for the vial as my answer.

The glass was cool against my fingertips, deceptively delicate for what it contained. My hand tightened instinctively, protectively, as if Ella might try and snatch it back at any moment.

“You’ll need the rest to make it work,” she reminded me lightly. “Half a cure will stabilize her but not restore her wolf. Not yet.”

“I know.” The words scraped out between clenched teeth.

Ella leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting against steepled fingers. “Then you know what’s required. The second half will come when the announcement is public, sealed and blessed. Until then…” She spread her hands in a gesture of mock regret. “Patience, Your Majesty.”

Zane lunged in my chest, snarling. Rip her apart. Take it all now.

I forced him back. Not yet, not here where there would be questions.

My eyes lingered on the vial for one more heartbeat before I slipped it into the inner pocket of my jacket. The weight of it felt wrong. It was too light to hold so much power. And too much power over me.

“Don’t keep her waiting too long,” Ella added, feigned pity curving her lips. “Poor girl must think you’ve forgotten her.”

I turned without replying. If I stayed another second, I’d lose control.

The hallway inside was blessedly warm after the suffocating sweetness of Ella’s perfume. I exhaled hard, the tension in my shoulders only loosening by a small measure as I put distance between us.

The vial shifted against my ribs with every step, a reminder of what was at stake, of what I had to finish.

I could see it already: Lila in the greenhouse, night-blooming flowers glowing in the dark, moonlight soft against her hair. The cure in one hand, the truth in the other. No more secrets. No more walls. Finally, just us.

Would she even believe me? Would she let me touch her again? Love her?

I didn’t know. But I had to try.

Zane rumbled low in my mind, quieter now, almost reverent. Give it to her. Claim her. Make her ours again.

Soon, I promised. Soon.

Lila

The palace felt colder every night.

Not in temperature, the halls were still warmed by fires stoked by silent servants, but in the way the shadows stretched long across the marble floors, swallowing corners whole.

And in the way my body couldn’t seem to warm up properly.

In the quiet, I could hear every creak of the wood, every whisper of wind against the glass, and it all reminded me how alone I was.

Damon hadn’t come while I was awake.

Again.

I sat curled on the window seat, knees drawn to my chest, staring out at the gardens. It had become one of the few positions that eased my discomfort.

The moon hung low, pale light spilling through the window and painting silver across my skin. My reflection stared back faintly in the windowpane: hollow-eyed, hair unkempt, lips dry and cracked. I didn’t recognize her.

How long had it been since I’d slept well? Since I’d eaten more than a few bites at a time? My body felt weightless, tremors rippling through my hands when I tried to steady them.

I pressed my palm flat to the cold glass, just to feel something outside of myself.

The silence inside my head was worse than all of it.

“Ruby?” I whispered, voice hoarse from disuse.

Still nothing.

I used to feel her, that wild, unrestrained warmth coiled beneath my skin; but now the space where she belonged felt empty. A void that stretched wider each day.

Sometimes I wondered if she’d left me entirely, if I’d ever feel her again.

The whispers in the palace only confirmed it.

I heard them in the kitchens, in the corridors, even through the cracks of my own door: The King will marry the true Lady Elena. The fragile girl in the east wing isn’t fit to rule. A broken wolf doesn’t deserve a throne.

At first, I’d told myself it was gossip. Lies. But every day Damon stayed away, every day he avoided my questions, the more those whispers sounded like a confirmation of my imprisonment.

If he loved me, wouldn’t he tell me? Wouldn’t he come?

My chest tightened, a sharp ache radiating outward until I could barely draw breath. I shoved the feeling down and stood abruptly, restless energy coursing through my weak limbs.

My feet carried me in uneven circles across the chamber, pacing… pacing, until the walls seemed to inch closer with every step.

The room was beautiful. Suffocating.

I grabbed the nearest blanket, wrapping it tight around my shoulders, but it didn’t stop the chill crawling under my skin. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I crossed to the writing desk, where letters I’d never send lay crumpled and scattered. Words I couldn’t speak to Damon stared back at me in messy ink: apologies, accusations, pleas. I swept them into a drawer and slammed it shut.

The sound startled me. Startled the guards outside, too. I heard them shift at the door, but they didn’t enter. They weren’t allowed to.

I moved back to the window. Pressed my forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the gardens were still. Frost dusted the hedges, catching in the pale moonlight.

Somewhere beyond those walls lay the rest of the world. A world where I wasn’t caged, where my mother might still be alive, where Damon hadn’t chosen someone else and tossed me aside.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it. Walking away from the palace, barefoot and free, air sharp and clean in my lungs. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to stop looking over my shoulder, to stop waiting for doors to lock behind me.

But even in my own fantasies, Damon’s face followed me.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot against the chill in the room. I pressed the heel of my hand to them, furious at myself for caring. For wanting.

“Stop,” I muttered under my breath. “Just… stop.”

The words felt hollow. The ache in my chest didn’t ease. The tremors kept on.

I curled back into the window seat, blanket wrapped tight, forehead resting against my knees. The moon climbed higher, spilling pale light across the floor, and still Damon didn’t come.

I needed to do something soon, or I would drive me mad.

By the time my eyes finally closed, exhaustion dragging me under, the only thing I felt was emptiness.