Lila
Three days. That’s how long it had been since Ronan knocked at the door and Damon walked away with my hand still warm in his.
He hadn’t spoken much since.
Oh, he was present–attentive in his way. He sat with me at meals, slept near enough for our bond to pulse faintly between us, and touched my shoulder sometimes like he meant to say something but couldn’t find the words.
But he hadn’t mentioned Isabella. Not once.
Not after she slipped back into the palace like a serpent dressed in wolf’s clothing.
I sat curled in the corner of the low velvet chaise near the window, watching a pair of courtiers pace the edge of the garden. They looked like they were discussing weather or wine, but I caught the flick of glances toward the tower balcony–toward my balcony.
It made my skin prickle.
Ruby stirred behind my ribs, uneasy. Not angry–watchful. Her ears were e–perked, pacing in tight circles. Waiting for a threat to make itself known.
It had taken days for me to really feel her again, and our connection still felt… weak. Weaker than before anyway.
The door opened with a soft knock, and Emma stepped in carrying a tray of warm tea. She thought tea cured everything. She set it down on the low table and gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You’re up early,” she said gently.
“Didn’t sleep much.”
She didn’t pry, instead Emma arranged hair pins beside the mirror. “The départure ceremony is this afternoon. They laid out a green dress for you. The one with the high collar.”
Emma was more fidgety than usual. I glanced at her reflection. “You’ve heard something.”
Emma’s shoulders rose and fell with a too–careful breath. “She’s not hiding.”
“Isabella?” I asked, even though I already knew.
She nodded. “She’s… been busy.”
I turned from the window. “Busy how?”
Emma hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“She’s been visiting with minor nobles. Holding little… tea gatherings. Conversations. Always just outside the guards‘ patrols. No rules broken, nothing direct. But she’s planting seeds.”
“What kind of seeds?”
Emma looked pained. “Rumors. Phrases like ‘it’s a shame how little tradition matters now. Or ‘some girls rise too quickly to fall properly.”
My mouth went dry.
“Someone said it was nice to see a woman in the palace who still understood history. Etiquette.”
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I stood abruptly, the blanket falling from my shoulders. “And Damon?”
Emma’s silence was louder than any answer.
“He’s done nothing yet?” I whispered.
“No. He can’t, she’s a guest an Elder. It would be… disrespectful.”
I turned away, pressing my palms against the cold stone of the window ledge. Outside, a breeze stirred the roses.
“She knows,” I said. “She recognized me or figured it out. And now she’s working the court, one whisper at a time.”
“She hasn’t said your name,” Emma offered, like some small comfort.
“She doesn’t have to.”
My heart pounded–not from fear, but from the terrible certainty that I was already behind. She was moving, and I was sitting still, healing, waiting to be outplayed.
Ruby pressed up against my awareness, baring her teeth. Say something. Ask him.
But I didn’t want to ask Damon.
Because if he was lying to me–if he knew and chose silence–then I wasn’t just betrayed again. I was expendable.
Emma approached quietly and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need to get ready.”
I swallowed hard. “For what?”
“The former candidates are leaving today. There’s a ceremony in the garden. The Court will be watching and as the future Luna you need to be there.
“Of course they will.”
I crossed the room, my body moving automatically as Emma pulled the green dress over my arms and buttoned the high collar with shaking fingers.
The fabric settled over my skin like armor.
But I didn’t feel protected. I felt like I was walking into
a storm without knowing which way the wind would blow.
The former candidates stood near the fountain, dressed in departure colors–deep jewel tones and embroidered cloaks denoting their Pack heritage. Their faces were calm. Controlled.
Guests had gathered in neat rows, their silks catching the light, their voices pitched in pleasant, practiced tones. It was the kind of event to see and be
seen.
I stood off to the side in the shade of a carved marble archway, my green gown too warm, my hands too still.
My name wasn’t being called. I wasn’t being acknowledged. I didn’t belong to their ceremony. Not anymore.
And yet everyone kept looking at me.
Not openly, not with curiosity–but with wariness. With calculation. Their glances flicked past me like a draft they coul
figure out the source of.
Emma stood at my side, silent as ever. Damon hadn’t come, it wasn’t proper for him to be here, but that duty apparently fell to me.
But he was likely watching from a window, or maybe not at all. I didn’t know which felt better.
The Elder hosting the ceremony cleared his throat and began listing names. One by one, the candidates stepped forward, received nods, acknowledgments, and the respectful blessing that came with being dismissed with dignity.
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My chest tightened as each name passed. Nora wasn’t among them. Most of the others kept their expressions neutral but feels rela stole glances toward me, quick and unreadable.
When the last girl stepped back into line, the Elder smiled and spread his arms. “Let us honor these noble daughters of our allied Packsoniso surv grace-
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
The voice cut through the ceremony like a warm knife through butter.
Heads turned. The Elder froze mid–sentence.
Isabella stepped into view from the far end of the garden, draped in soft blue and shadow. She glided between the rows of seated nobles like she belonged there. No guards moved to stop her. No one spoke.
Her smile was calm. Her eyes found mine like a hunter pinning prey.
“I only ask for a moment,” she said smoothly. “There’s something the Court deserves to hear before these fine Ladies depart.”
My breath caught. Emma’s hand brushed mine–gentle, grounding.
The Elder sputtered. “Lady Isabella, this is not-”
“I’ll be brief,” she promised, then turned to the crowd as if the stage had been hers all along.
“There is a lie living in this palace,” she said, each word measured, crisp. “A deception so complete it was allowed to stand through the entire selection process. I find it only right that the truth be shared–now, before anyone else is misled.”
Silence fell. The garden itself held its breath.
Isabella stepped forward slowly, her hands clasped before her, her tone deceptively calm.
“There is no Elena Ashford.”
The words struck like thunder.
A collective gasp rolled through the garden. The Elder hosting the ceremony paled. The candidates turned sharply, eyes widening. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman dropped her fan.
“Elena is a fraud,” Isabella continued. “An imposter who took the place of a noble daughter. And while I have no doubt the deception was clever, it casts a shadow over the King’s decision–one that cannot be ignored.”
My heart pounded. I couldn’t move.
“She,” Isabella said, gaze locked on me, “lied to every one of you. Every candidate. Every Elder. Every Pack that sent a daughter in good faith.”
The silence fractured into noise.
Outrage. Confusion. A rising storm of whispers.
“What proof-?”
“Who is she then?”
“Does the King know?”
I felt like I was falling.
“She’s already contacted the Packs,” Emma murmured beside me, her voice tight. “She sent a pile of letters went out yesterday. This must have been
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what they were for.
Isabella bowed her head slightly, as if grieving. “I only seek truth. The Court deserves it. The women leaving today deserve it
The Elder tried to regain control, voice trembling. “We’ll… investigate. The King he will respond-”
But no one was listening to him anymore.
They were all looking at me.
As if they’d never seen me before.
