Lila
The summons arrived just after breakfast.
A folded parchment sealed in black wax, delivered by a silent steward who refused to meet my eyes. I didn’t need to open it to know who it was from The weight of it pressed into my hands like a stone.
Henry never requested. He summoned. And when he did, it meant something was already broken–or about to be.
I stood in the center of my suite for a long moment after the steward left, the unopened letter still in my palm. My stomach tightened. I should have felt ready. But my father always had a way of slipping under the skin, no matter how many layers of armor I wore
I dressed carefully. Something formal enough to suggest composure. Casual enough to suggest I wasn’t there for a fight.
The walk to the receiving room was silent, save for the echo of my footsteps and Ruby’s low growl just beneath my ribs.
He doesn’t get to touch us anymore, she murmured. Remember that.
I pressed her back gently. I’ll try.
The room was colder than I expected. Not in temperature–though the stone walls always carried a chill–but in atmosphere. Even the fire in the grate seemed to burn quieter, dimmed by the weight of what this meeting was meant to be.
I stepped inside and immediately spotted Damon.
He sat at the head of the table, posture relaxed but commanding, one hand resting on the carved arm of the chair. He wasn’t wearing his crown, but somehow, he looked more Kingly than ever–precisely because he didn’t need it.
His expression was unreadable, calm to the point of indifference. But I saw his eyes flare in whatever I was about to witness.
surprise at my arrival and then soften, as if to apologize for
To Damon’s left stood my father, Henry.
He turned when he heard the door shut behind me, that ever–predictable smile already i
in
M
“Ah, there she is,” he said, voice smooth as wine turned bitter. “Daughter, darling. Or should I say… Lila?”
My spine stiffened. Damon didn’t even blink, a lifetime of politicking keeping his reactions hidden.
I walked forward, keeping my steps measured, my face impassive. I didn’t look at Henry, keeping my eyes on Damon.
He gestured silently to the seat across from him. I took it, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.
Henry didn’t look my way again. Instead, he circled behind my chair like a vulture sizing up whether I was already dead or just nearly there..
“I must admit,” he began, “when the invitation to this little bride selection arrived, I assumed my daughter would be front and center. Not hiding behind someone else’s name. It’s been… enlightening.”
Still, Damon said nothing. He watched Henry with the patience of a storm gathering on the horizon.
Henry continued, now placing a hand lightly on the back of my chair. I resisted the urge to shrug him off.
“Of course, we all make compromises for appearances. Sometimes a father has to make difficult choices to protect the family name. To preserve opportunity. Surely you understand that Your Majesty.”
Damon sat preternaturally still, tracking Henry like the prey he was in this room. I glanced at Damon, unsure if he was listening at all.
1/3
Chapter 86
Then Henry dropped the smile.
“I’ve kept quiet,” he said. “But the longer she remains in your court, the more people may start asking questions. Questions about linensiss legitimacy. About your judgment
Damon blinked once. Slowly. “I tire of this conversation, find your point and say it.”
Henry straightened. “In exchange for my continued silence on my daughter’s indiscretion here, I’m prepared to accept a seat on the outer councă. Or land–something in the west. Even a permanent liaison role for the Ashford family would be sufficient.”
My breath caught. He was bargaining with my name. With my body, my reputation. As if I were still his pawn to place or sacrifice depending on the board
I waited for Damon to rise. To snarl. To slam a fist on the table. But he only sighed. And looked, for all the world, bored. But I could see the twitch of his finger on the arm of his chair.
“No.”
Henry blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said no.” Damon leaned back slightly in his chair. “You have no leverage. Your daughter–Lila–has already told me the truth. There’s no scandal left to exploit.”
Henry tried to recover. “Still, appearances—”
“Don’t concern me.” Damon’s voice was a blade now, smooth and sharp. “And if you ever try to leverage her again, for anything, I’ll remove every Ashford from the royal roster. Permanently.”
Silence dropped like a stone. Henry stared at him, face twitching. But Damon didn’t even look angry. He looked finished.
That was somehow worse.
My father gave a stiff, shallow bow. “Of course. I only meant to advise.”
“I don’t need your advice,” Damon said. “Leave my home before my generosity runs dry. And you would do well to stay out of my business. And hers.”
Henry pulled himself together, offered a stiff bow and left without another word.
I sat there, staring across the table, unsure whether to speak. Unsure if I could.
Damon finally turned to me, eyes softening. “You okay?”
I nodded. I wasn’t. But I nodded.
He rose, slowly. “He never should’ve had the chance to speak. I didn’t know he would summon you. That was… not what I wanted you to go through.”
I nodded again; this time slower. He waited, but I still felt thrown off. So, Damon offered me his hand and walked me out of the room.
The doors shut behind me with a final, echoing thud, and I stood there in the corridor for a long moment, staring at the polished floor as if it might offer answers. My fingers flexed in Damon’s, slow and rhythmic.
He defended me. Without hesitation. Without flinching. Damon had cut my father down with a glance–shut him out without even raising his voice.
It was everything I’d hoped for. So why did my chest feel so tight?
“Do you want me to walk you back?” Damon asked, his voice low behind me.
I didn’t turn around. “No. Thank you. I just need a moment.”
He hesitated, then said nothing else, releasing my hand. His footsteps retreated quietly, the sound of him slipping away too easily.
2/3
Chapter 86
I walked nowhere in particular. I just moved. One corridor turned into another. My legs took over white my mind replayed every word. Every still, silent beat where Henry had expected control and didn’t get it.
A window caught my eye–arched and tall, framed by trailing ivy that had been cut back to let in more light. I stepped toward it without thinking, pressing one palm to the cool glass.
Outside, the early afternoon sun made the courtyard glow with color, but none of it touched me.
Ruby stirred again. Quiet. Waiting.
He defended you, she murmured. As he should.
I closed my eyes.
It should’ve been enough.
And maybe it would’ve been, if I hadn’t heard Asher’s voice still echoing in the corners of my mind suggesting I was a substitute for more than my sister in this place.
I didn’t know who. And he hadn’t said. But the implication had rooted itself like a burr in my ribs.
I had come here thinking I was faking my way through someone else’s life. And now that I wasn’t… I didn’t know what part of it was mine anymore.
Damon’s calm, his composure—was it confidence in me? Or indifference to the deception? Was he so unaffected because he’d known from the start? Or because he didn’t care who wore the name, as long as the illusion held?
My fingers tightened against the windowpane. I should have felt victorious. My father was silenced. My place was safe.
So why did I still feel like I was made of smoke?
A voice approached–a couple of courtiers, whispering as they passed. They didn’t notice me in the alcove, but their words reached me anyway.
“…heard he turned down the council seat without blinking.”
“Over her? I don’t believe it.”
“He must know something we don’t.”
I waited for them to disappear before moving again.
I wasn’t going to cry. Not for Henry. Not for court gossip. Not even for the cracks I could feel spidering across the inside of my heart.
But I was going to need time. To breathe. To think. To decide what part of this life I still wanted–and what part of it was real.
turned from the window and walked back the way I came. Slower this time.
And for the first time, I didn’t flinch when a servant bowed as I passed.
AD
Comment
