Chapter 103
Chapter 103
Lila
The garden blurred.
I stood rooted in place as the crowd surged like a rising tide, too many voices at once, crashing into each other, demanding answers I couldn’t give. My name–my real name–ripped through the air like a curse.
Lila.
Someone repeated it. Then another.
“Who is she really?”
“Elena Ashford was supposed to be-”
“Did the King know?”
I couldn’t move.
The stone tiles beneath my feet might as well have cracked open. I felt like I was sinking into them, body too heavy, breath too shallow. My hands clenched at my sides, fingers shaking.
I wasn’t dressed for war. I was dressed for a quiet, polite ceremony. The green dress clung to me, suddenly too tight, too visible. Like my skin wasn’t mine
anymore.
Isabella stood near the center of it all, calm and radiant. A perfectly placed look of disappointment on her face. She had already won with a single
sentence.
“There is no Elena Ashford.”
And now they were all looking at me like I was a stranger. Like I had stolen something sacred.
Emma moved closer. Her hand brushed my arm, trying to anchor me. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Not here.”
But I wasn’t planning to speak. Honestly, I couldn’t.
The Elders had risen to their feet in alarm, several of them exchanging wide–eyed glances and frantic whispers.
The noble guests–daughters, parents; guards–shifted in their rows, the silence from the earlier ceremony replaced by frantic murmurs and thinly–veiled
outrage.
“Is this true?” someone barked.
“Where is the Ashford girl?”
“She lied to all of us–what else is a lie?”
I felt Ruby stir faintly, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t even push forward. She was still as ice, breath caught in her chest, watching with wide eyes from somewhere deep within me,
She didn’t know how to protect us from this.
Neither did I.
All I could think was: I never wanted this.
1/A
Chapter 103
I didn’t want to humiliate the other girls. I didn’t want to upend tradition or rewrite the rules. I hadn’t asked for a crown.
I just wanted to survive. To protect my mother. To keep the lies from turning into a grave for either of us.
But survival didn’t look like protection anymore. It looked like betrayal. It looked like spectacle,
My chest ached with something deeper than fear–shame, maybe. Or the helpless knowing that I couldn’t undo what had been done. What I had been forced to do.
I scanned the crowd, desperate for Damon.
And found him at the edge of the terrace, standing tall in black formal robes, the crest of his House stitched across his chest. No crown today. Just authority, distilled. Power radiating behind his stillness.
His jaw was set. His eyes were locked on Isabella with fury. But he hadn’t stopped it. He hadn’t silenced her either.
My lungs burned. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was holding my breath or because I couldn’t catch it anymore.
I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear into the earth beneath the rose beds. I wanted to tear off this dress, this name, this borrowed skin and vanish before someone else decided to rip it from me.
But I didn’t move.
Because if I ran, it would be over. Whatever thread I was holding onto would snap, and I’d become exactly what Isabella had just named me.
So, I stood. Barely.
Emma’s grip tightened on my arm. “He’s going to speak.”
I looked back toward Damon as he took a step forward.
The hush that fell wasn’t respectful–it was expectant. The kind of silence that held breath beb
to be said.
teeth and readied itself to feast on whatever was about
Damon stepped into that silence with terrifying calm.
He didn’t raise a hand. Didn’t bark for order. He simply moved forward, each step deliberate, measured. The kind of movement wolves recognized as dominance. Even before he opened his mouth, the court knew to listen.
I stared at him, still frozen in place, still aching in my chest. My legs barely held me. I wanted to believe he was here for me. That he would fix this.
But I wasn’t sure what part of me, or this situation, could be salvaged.
He reached the base of the raised platform and turned to face the Court. The sunlight caught the sharp line of his cheekbones, the cold glitter in his eyes.
“I owe this Court an explanation,” he said. His voice carried like thunder through the garden.
Several nobles shifted. One of the Elders–the same one who’d flinched when Isabella spoke–stepped forward as if to object, then thought better of it
Damon continued. “The woman known to you as Elena Ashford is not who she first claimed to be.”
Murmurs swelled. My throat tightened. He raised a hand, and the sound died.
“She remained hidden under my instruction. Her identity was concealed at my command.”
My head snapped up.
What?
Chapter 103
Damon’s gaze never wavered. “The deception was mine. She Lila acted under duress Under threat. And I take full responsibility
consequences.”
A ripple went through the crowd, this time confusion, not just outrage.
Duress? It was true, but it wasn’t his fault. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t looking at me. He hadn’t even glanced in my direction
It dawned on me then: Damon was protecting me. He was framing it–framing us in a way that preserved as much dignity as possible. Even dit bent the truth in every direction.
He went on. “This court has questioned her merit, her past, and now her name. But not one of you has questioned her endurance. Her loyalty. Het strength.”
Another pause.
“Some of you were ready to Crown her without knowing the truth. And now some of you are ready to condemn her for surviving it.”
A soft gasp came from somewhere behind me.
Damon’s voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened. “If you want legitimacy restored, then we build it. Brick by brick. Not by bloodline. By merit.”
He turned slightly, finally meeting my gaze. I felt the weight of it like a hand closing around mine from across the garden.
“I am placing Lila Ashford under the formal instruction of the Elders‘ Council,” he said. “She will undergo Luna training. Not as a candidate–but as my chosen mate.”
Shock rippled outward.
“She will answer to your scrutiny. Your expectations. Your traditions. And when she emerges, she will not owe you your acceptance. She will have earned
it.”
He stepped back, arms at his sides. “This is not a debate. This is my command.”
The crowd erupted.
Not into chaos–but into motion. Nobles turned to whisper. Candidates exchanged stunned glances. One of the Elders pressed a hand to his temple, clearly already regretting the storm they had allowed to form.
Isabella, for her part, stood as still as marble, her expression unreadable.
Emma exhaled next to me, quiet and fierce.
And 1-1 didn’t know how to feel.
Part of me wanted to collapse under the relief. Another part burned with resentment that Damon had spoken for me. That he’d once again taken my voice and turned it into something palatable for the court.
He had made my choice for me to become Luna.
But beneath it all, something else pulsed. A small, stubborn ember more dangerous than fear or anger.
Resolve.
If they wanted a Luna, I would give them one. Not because I owed it to them.
Because I chose to rise.
