Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Lila
The candle had burned down to a puddle, flickering low enough that shadows danced along the walls of my room, stretching long and ineftain
Unable to sleep, I sat cross–legged on the floor, the marble cool against my legs even through the thin fabric of my nightdress. The original letter rested in my lap–creased, a little smudged, the ink slightly faded at the edges where I’d held it too tight.
I read it again, slowly. Whispered the words to myself. They weren’t lies, but they weren’t enough.
I’d left too much out. I’d written like I was still afraid–guarded even in my truth. And if I was going to risk anything at all, it had to be real. All of it. Not the version that protected me. Not the one that made it easier for him to forgive me.
It needed to be the full truth. Even if it hurt. Even if it ruined everything.
I reached for fresh parchment and pen, my fingers trembling slightly as I dipped it into the ink. The first line came slower this time.
My name isn’t Elena Ashford.
The words bled into the page, stained it. I kept going.
I wrote about my Pack. About the deal my father struck. About my mother’s illness and the price I was paying every day to keep her alive. I wrote about my fear. My guilt. The moment I decided to become my sister.
And I wrote about him.
About the greenhouse. About the way he looked at me like I might be something special. About the kiss that changed something fundamental in me- shook it loose. The ache that hadn’t left since.
I didn’t try to make it beautiful. I just made it true.
By the time I reached the final line, my hand was shaking so badly I had to pause. My throat felt tight. The ink blotched slightly where my fingers trembled over the period.
I signed it simply. Lila.
Folding the letter closed felt like I had sealed a part of myself inside.
I set it aside. And pulled out another sheet. This one, for Emma, It was shorter, less formal. But harder in some ways.
I’m sorry. That’s how it started. And then I told her. Not the whole palace version. Just enough. Enough to make her understand why I couldn’t tell her before, why I might disappear without explanation. Why I’d lied.
You were the first person here who made me feel like I wasn’t faking everything. You’re the reason I stayed sane.
I ended with a promise: If anything happens to me, this isn’t your fault. I never wanted to drag you into this. I just wanted to be your friend.
Ruby stirred in the quiet. Send them both, she said. Now. While you still can.
I ran my fingers over the folded edges of both letters.
“I don’t know if I’m protecting Damon…” I whispered, voice too hoarse, “…or just protecting myself.”
There was no answer.
Eventually, I rose. My knees popped from sitting so long. I crossed to the bed and slipped Damon’s letter beneath my pillow again. It didn’t belong there
–but nowhere else felt safe.
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Emma’s letter, I tucked inside the hollow spine of my journal–the one that looked old and unreadable but heid averything I’d basis tas ir loud, I slid it between the pages and closed the cover with care.
Just in case.
Just in case.
Then I sat back down on the edge of the bed, palms flat on my thighs, heart still racing like I’d rim
somewhere and never stopped
The letters were written. But I hadn’t the heart to have them delivered yet. I lay back down, more satisfied with having gotten something out, and let the exhaustion take me under.
Morning came too soon, and without mercy.
I hadn’t slept soundly. My body had gone still sometime before dawn, but my kept waking me. it hadn’t stopped moving–looping through every word rd written, every breath I’d held back, every consequence I couldn’t predict.
Now, sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, catching on the edges of the candle wax I hadn’t cleaned up and the corner of parchment still poking out from beneath my pillow. I shoved it back under to hide it from myself.
I dressed slowly, my hands a little clumsy as I pulled on a soft, neutral–toned gown. No one would be expecting flair today. Rumors had already started swirling the night before–something about a change in format. A surprise.
By the time I stepped into the corridor, the candidate wing was already alive with motion. Girls filed past in small clusters, hair coiled neatly, expressions bright but tense. Nora passed me with a polite nod. Vanessa offered a sneer meant to cut.
I said nothing. Just kept walking.
The announcement board stood outside the morning salon, flanked by two guards and an anxious–looking steward with a scroll case tucked beneath one arm. A few candidates hovered nearby, clearly trying to look casual.
I lingered at the back of the crowd, arms folded.
A
The steward cleared his throat and read from the scroll, his voice ringing through the stone archway. “By order of His Majesty and the Selection Council, the next phase of the Luna Trials will consist of individual assignments.”
That silenced the whispers.
The steward continued, “Each candidate will be sent to a Pack not their own, to act as liaison and representative of the Crown. You will be tasked with hearing disputes and petitions, mediating small conflicts, and reporting back with recommended resolutions.”
Gasps. A few murmured exclamations: The crowd buzzed like a kicked beehive.
The steward raised a hand. “This will not be a public trial. You will travel alone, without your usual companions or advisors, under light escort only. Decisions will be yours. Your judgment will reflect directly on your standing.”
I felt Ruby shift within me, alert and coiled. A test of instincts, she whispered. This is good. We don’t have advisors anyway, that gives us an advantage.
But my gut twisted all the same.
One by one, names were listed with their assigned territories. Nora was being sent east. Vanessa north.
When the steward reached my name, I barely registered the Pack designation. I just felt the hush around me stretch. Curious stares. Quiet calculations.
I kept my expression still. Neutral. Just another stone in the wall.
But inside, I was reeling.
This wasn’t a regular trial. This was exposure. There would be no audience to charm, no familiar ground to stand on. Just me. My decisions. My fake
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name–Elena Ashford—written across every word I spoke. The fear of exposure if someone in this new territory know the hat Trin dots
Or the truth, Ruby whispered. Maybe it’s time you show them who you really
I didn’t trust myself to answer hot.
Because part of me still wondered if I should deliver the letter before I left. Let Damon read it. Let Emma know. Let it all come loose.
But the other part of me–the one that had kept me alive this long–wasn’t ready to trust that timing
When the crowd began to disperse, I stepped back, giving them room. No one looked at me too long. Not with interest. Not with warmth.
And maybe that was better. Maybe it meant they wouldn’t see what I was carrying. Not the tension in my shoulders. Not the weight of two hidden letters burning a hole through my bed.
I walked back to my room alone, but I didn’t feel alone. I felt watched.
And I wasn’t sure if it was Damon I was thinking of-
–or the truth, waiting under my pillow, whispering that its time was running out.
