Chapter 25
Jul 4, 2025
The knock wasn’t a knock at all. It was the sound of a bolt being wrenched free, of iron scraping iron. Then the door swung open, and three guards filled the frame like a verdict. No words. No expressions. Just the silent command of obedience. One of them gestured, and I stood because I had no choice—not because my body wanted to move.
They marched me through the corridor barefoot. My soles ached with every step on the cold stone. The palace had changed since the last time I walked these halls freely. Or maybe it was me who had changed. Either way, everything felt wrong.
They shoved me into a room thick with steam. My breath fogged the air as I blinked against the haze. A servant waited with her head bowed. She held out a bundle of white fabric with the same reverence others reserved for relics.
“Put it on,” she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
I stared at the fabric. It wasn’t silk. It wasn’t lace. Just a rough, starched thing—meant to hide bruises and make a spectacle of submission. I didn’t move.
Her voice dropped lower. “If you don’t, they’ll dress you themselves.”
That was enough.
I turned my back, teeth clenched, and slipped into the dress. It scraped over fresh lash marks on my spine, and I flinched. The neckline was too high. The sleeves too tight. A funeral shroud pretending to be a wedding gown.
When the door opened again, he was there.
Valen.
He looked at me like I was a painting someone had tried to burn and hang back up anyway.
“You’ll do,” he said. “Come.”
He didn’t offer his hand. He just started walking and expected me to follow. And like a well-trained pet, I did. Guards trailed behind us, their silence heavier than boots on stone.
The throne hall blazed with torchlight. Rows of wolves stood watching, their faces masked with anticipation, mockery, hunger. The room buzzed with whispers.
“That’s her?”
“Thought she’d look stronger.”
“Guess she finally broke.”
I kept my chin lifted. I would not give them more.
Valen stopped at the base of the dais and turned to the room. His voice cut through the crowd like a blade.
“She will become my Luna.”
The words echoed. Formal. Final. I froze.
He reached for my hand, but I stepped back.
Gasps fluttered across the chamber like startled birds. Valen’s jaw twitched. His hand dropped to his side.
A pause.
Then a nod.
The command didn’t need words.
A guard stepped forward with a coiled whip in hand.
The first strike landed across my back.
The second tore through cloth and skin.
The third made the air whistle.
I didn’t scream. I would never scream for him.
My knees gave out, and the room spun, but I kept my face to the floor so no one could see the tears blurring my vision.
Valen approached slowly, like a man inspecting a bloodied prize. He crouched before me and took my chin between two fingers.
“You should’ve accepted the crown when I offered it gently,” he murmured.
Then he lifted me into his arms.
My limbs hung useless as he carried me through a side corridor. The murmurs of the crowd faded behind us, replaced by the soft roar of fire and the metallic scent of hot water.
His chamber.
It hadn’t changed. The same golden canopy above the bed. The same fire crackling in the hearth. Only now the roses in the bath floated in crimson water—and I couldn’t tell if it was petals or blood.
He laid me beside it. Peeled the torn dress off like it was nothing more than wrapping.
Then he dipped a cloth into the bath and began wiping the blood from my skin, humming low and tuneless like I was a child. I stared at the ceiling, eyes blank, soul quieter than breath.
When he finished, he dressed me in a white robe, cinched too tight at the waist. Then he gestured to the bed.
“You’ll sleep here now,” he said, patting the place beside him like it was a privilege.
I didn’t speak.
“Eventually,” he added, “you’ll learn to love me.”
I turned away. Faced the wall.
And said nothing.
But in the stillness of that cursed room, behind the ache and the broken silence…
I dreamed of silver eyes and mountain winds.
