Chapter 110
Lila
The council chamber loomed before me. After the break from yesterday, deliberations were back on. It was a strange feeling to have my future debated. over without any input.
I could feel every eye on me as I walked into the center, my steps slow but sure.
I wore no jewels. Nothing to dazzle or distract. Just a tailored dress in deep midnight blue, high at the neck, fitted at the sleeves. Uncompromising Like1 needed to be now.
They expected a girl to crumble. I gave them a woman reborn.
“I came back by choice,” I said, my voice steady. “Not to beg. Not to be forgiven. But to be clear.”
Damon stood behind me—not leading, not speaking. Just there. Silent support. His presence pulsed behind me strong and sure.
“I will not be a substitute,” I continued. “Not for a ghost, not for a tradition that twists women into symbols. I won’t be a pawn or a lesson.”
The Elders exchanged glances. One opened his mouth–always the first to challenge–but Damon shifted his weight just enough to silence him.
“I’m not perfect,” I said. “I’m not tame. But I’m still here.”
My hands didn’t shake. My spine didn’t bend. Let them see what they had tried to break and failed.
“If you want someone pliable,” I went on, “someone who smiles and stays silent and plays a wicked game behind your backs before stabbing you in it, then you shouldn’t have let this selection linger. But if I am to be Luna, it will be as myself.”
The tension in the room shifted–something subtle. A recognition, maybe. Or fear.
“I’m not asking for acceptance,” I finished. “I’m warning you. I’m not going away. You can’t shame me into silence. You can’t tradition me into vanishing. I will be unavoidable.”
Behind me, Damon moved to stand at my side. Not ahead. Not behind. Equal.
“My King,” someone whispered. But no one interrupted.
I didn’t look at Isabella. Not at first. But I felt her gaze like poison on my skin. When I turned, she was watching me from her seat–draped in soft ivory, hands tight on the arms of her chair.
Her expression was placid, but her fingers betrayed her. Clenched too hard. Knuckles white, lips a fraction too still.
This wasn’t the moment she’d planned.
Her eyes met mine. And in them, I saw loathing so pure/it made my stomach turn. Not just dislike. Not rivalry. Pure hatred.
Because I’d stolen the ending she’d written for herself.
My gaze drifted beyond her, toward the seats along the chamber’s side. Asher sat near the edge, body taut with something I couldn’t name at first. Until I looked closer.
Not admiration. Not anger.
But jealousy. Regret.
His jaw was tight, arms crossed—but his eyes lingered. He knew he had lost. Not just power. Not just politics. Something else.
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Chapter 110
I took a final breath and turned back toward the Elders.
I didn’t need their nods. I didn’t need applause.
I had said what needed saying.
And that was enough. For
now.
The formal session ended, but the court didn’t disperse like it usually did. The tension didn’t dissipate. It lingered in the air like static before a storm–too many questions left unasked, too many eyes watching, waiting.
I didn’t leave either.
I stood at Damon’s side, the heat of his presence grounding me even though he hadn’t spoken a word since I finished. His silence wasn’t neglect it was armor. He knew the weight of his support didn’t need words right now. It needed steadiness. Stillness.
The Elders filed out one by one, some avoiding my gaze entirely, others watching me like they’d just seen a wolf slip its leash. Jackson was among the last to rise, his expression unreadable. He didn’t nod. Didn’t scowl. Just regarded me for a beat too long before turning away, robes trailing behind him like smoke.
Across the chamber, Isabella hadn’t moved.
She remained seated as nobles began to murmur and collect themselves, their conversations bubbling up in careful, hushed tones. She didn’t bother pretending to listen to anyone. Her gaze stayed fixed on me–laser sharp and poisonous.
I didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking back right away.
I straightened my shoulders, drew a slow breath, and reached for Damon’s hand. He didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around mine like he’d been waiting all day for the chance to touch me again.
Then, and only then, did I let my gaze meet hers.
She didn’t blink.
The fury was still there, but it was wrapped in frost now. Calculated. Controlled. Her mouth was a perfect line, her expression composed–but I saw the pulse jump at the base of her throat. She was furious. She was unraveling beneath that perfect skin.
She had expected to win. And she still didn’t understand how she hadn’t.
I gave her the smallest nod. A quiet challenge. No smile. No mockery.
Just the acknowledgment that I was still here.
Still standing.
Still chosen.
Damon shifted beside me slightly, his thumb brushing along the side of f my hand. The movement was small, but I felt the weight of it like a vow, We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
I could feel his pulse through our joined hands–steady, strong, real.
When we finally moved to leave, the chamber parted for us like a split sea. People stepped aside. Some inclined their heads. Other us. But no one stopped us. No one dared.
And that said more than applause ever could.
The corridor outside felt cooler, quieter. Damon didn’t speak until the doors had shut behind us.
ended not to see
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18:51 Tue, 10 Jun
Chapter 110
“You didn’t have to do that alone,” he said softly.
I looked up at him. “I didn’t. You were there.”
His jaw twitched slightly, like he was chewing on words he wasn’t sure he should say.
“You terrify them,” he murmured.
“I’m used to it.”
“I don’t want you to get used to it.”
I shrugged, the motion tight. “I don’t want to be used at all.”
His grip on my hand tightened a fraction. “You won’t be.”
We stopped at the threshold to one of the smaller garden alcoves–empty for once, quiet. The scent of night air and green things pressed in.
He turned to face me fully, his free hand rising to brush a curl from my cheek.
“I’m proud of you,” he said simply.
The words hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened. I wasn’t used to praise without strings.
“I didn’t do it for that.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why it means more.”
I looked up at him, really looked–and saw not just the king, not the man shaped by grief and guilt, but the one who had chosen to stay. The one who stood beside me while the court tried to tear me apart.
The one who saw me–still–despite everything.
“I’m not going back to who I was before,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “I hope not.”
I leaned into him just a little, forehead resting against his chest. The beat of his heart was steady beneath the layers of fabric and armor. We stood there, in the dark, in the quiet, in the shadow of everything we’d both endured.
Not healed.
Not done.
But together.
And for now, that was enough.
AP
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