Lila
The robe they’d given me was too soft.
Every thread brushed my skin like an apology, and I hated how easily I melted into it. It reminded me of the cell–how the cold had stripped away
sensation until the return of warmth hurt.
I sat by the window in Damon’s chambers, curled beneath a quilt I hadn’t asked for, watching a hawk circle high above the courtyard. The training fields below were empty. Even the wind sounded cautious, like the palace itself had gone quiet to avoid stepping on broken glass.
The bandages had come off my wrists that morning. The skin underneath was still raw and red, but healing. The bruises around my ribs were fading from violet to sickly yellow. But I could move without flinching now–mostly.
But that didn’t mean I felt steady.
The door creaked softly open behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know who it was. Emma’s footsteps were always careful, like she didn’t want to leave prints.
“You’re awake,” she said gently. “I brought chamomile this time. I thought maybe the mint was too sharp.”
I managed a small smile, though I didn’t turn away from the window. “Thank you.”
She placed the tray on the table beside me and knelt to pour. The scent was subtle–floral, warm. A comfort drink. I wrapped my fingers around the cup
more for the heat than the taste.
For a while, we didn’t speak. Finally, Emma broke the silence and told me everything that had happened. “Some of the Packs have started sending
letters.”
I glanced at her.
“Congratulations, mostly,” she said, not quite meeting my gaze. “Though some are… quieter than others. Neutral. Waiting to see where the wind blows.”
I nodded faintly. That didn’t surprise me.
“The Court’s… fractured. Some of the nobles left last night. Packed up their daughters and walked out without even saying goodbye.” Her tone sharpened slightly at the end. “Cowards.”
I looked down at my tea. “They have every right to be angry.”
Emma frowned. “You didn’t ask to be chosen like this.”
“No,” I said. “But I didn’t stop it, either.”
She didn’t respond at first. The fire crackled low behind us, taking up the silence like a second heartbeat.
I shifted in my chair, wincing slightly as my body reminded me how much I’d endured. “Have they seen her? Nora?”
Emma shook her head. “She hasn’t shown her face since the declaration. Rumor is she left before dawn. Some think she was exiled. Others think she was
too humiliated to stay.”
I didn’t know which would feel worse–being banished or being erased.
“Do they all hate me?” I asked softly.
Emma blinked. “No. Some of them probably do. But not all.”
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Chapter 99
I finally looked at her.
She sighed. “They don’t hate you, Lila. They’re angry at the system. At the way Damon ended it. You didn’t steal anything from them out k doen mean they didn’t lose something.”
My chest tightened. “I didn’t want to win like this.”
“I know.”
The words came easier than I expected. I trusted Emma not to soften them, we’d been through too much.
“I didn’t want to be here, to prove myself,” I said. “To climb the ranks. But I did want to stand there at the end and know I earned it. Earned him
Emma gave a sad smile. “You did.”
I let my head fall back against the chair. My braid brushed my collarbone. The place beneath it still tingled faintly–where Damon’s mark sat, hidden beneath my robe and skin.
I hadn’t seen him since the declaration. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t asked for conversation. Just stayed close. Present. Watching.
I didn’t know what that meant yet.
Emma shifted beside me. “He’s not going to force anything. You know that, right?”
I nodded slowly. “That’s what scares me.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know what I want anymore.”
She reached out and squeezed my hand, warm and solid. We sat in silence again.
After a while, she asked, “Do you want to see him?”
I hesitated. My thumb drifted along the edge of the teacup. The warmth had faded again.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
But part of me did. And that part felt like a match waiting for flame.
Even with the fireplace casting soft orange light across the walls, shadows gathered in the corners like secrets waiting to be spoken aloud.
Hours later I sat curled on the edge of the bed–his bed–wrapped in a soft blanket, legs drawn to my chest, my chin resting lightly on my knees.
The same bed where he’d laid me after the cell. The same sheets he’d tucked around me with hands that shook when he thought I couldn’t see.
The palace had gone quiet. No footsteps in the corridor. No faint strains of music from the ballroom. Just silence. Dense and watchful.
I let my fingers trail absentmindedly along my collarbone, down to the spot hidden beneath my robe–where Damon’s mark rested. The skin there tingled softly, like it remembered what my heart refused to name.
I hadn’t looked at it since the bathhouse and Nora. But I felt it. Always.
When Damon spoke my name before the court–Lady Ashford, never Lila–I felt the mark pulse beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.
Not because he used the name the world knew. Because I knew who he meant.
My throat tightened.
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Chapter 99
I didn’t know how to feel. Part of me wanted to scream. Part of me wanted to hide. But another part–buried deeper than I liked to ludmit- 10” hear him say it. To me this time.
She bears my mark.
I leaned my head against the tall carved headboard, resting my eyes. The flames from the hearth cast soft shadows across the ceiling. They danced, Wavered. Settled.
So much had happened in such a short time.
I had been prepared to fight for my place. To climb my way into the top three. Maybe even reach the end. I’d braced myself for heartbreak, for rejection, for competition.
I hadn’t braced for this.
For being claimed. For having the rules rewritten around me like I was worth the cost of tradition.
My hand drifted to my chest, splaying lightly over my heart. I didn’t feel triumphant. I didn’t feel victorious. What I felt was more dangerous.
Wanted.
A quiet, burning thing unfurled in my chest–like kindling catching flame: I whispered, almost without realizing it, “Ruby?”
There was no voice in reply, but something stirred inside me. Not quite words–just a soft rustle of awareness. Familiar. Feral. Warm.
She was there.
Healing. Waiting. And I knew what she felt.
Not safety. Not certainty. Just this: He didn’t let us go.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts and echoed from the door. My body tensed before I even knew why. It wasn’t fear. Just… not knowing what to
expect.
The door didn’t open. Damon didn’t push.
I stayed still, breath held.
Then footsteps, retreating. Slow. Respectful.
I exhaled.
He hadn’t come to speak. Just to be close.
-That was worse somehow. Because it meant he wasn’t going to chase me. He was going to wait for me to decide.
And I didn’t know how long I could stand to keep him waiting.
I reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it tighter around my shoulders, curling in as the fire flickered lower.
Outside, the palace still whispered. Rumors and rebellion, envy and expectation. But in this room, all I could hear was the echo of his declaration.
She bears my mark because I choose her.
I pressed my hand to the mark again, eyes closed, and let myself feel it. Not as a weight. Not as a wound.
And it was terrifying.
