Chapter 14 Scandal at the Altar
Aelira’s POV
“Do you intend to stay?” Daelor’s question lingers between us, heavy and electric, the air itself straining around it.
I look at him, startled by the clarity of his challenge. My ceremonial gown suddenly weighs on me, silk and embroidery pressing down like a shroud.
Instead of answering. I deflect. “How did you know Alarion isn’t here?”
His silver–gray eyes don’t flinch from mine. He starts to speak, but Oriana bursts through the door, her face drained of color, panic etched in every line.
“Aelira! You need to see this! Her hand shakes as she thrusts her phone toward me.
I snatch the device, my heart already pounding. The screen glows with chaos–social media ablaze, notifications stacked on notifications. The world outside has caught fire, and the flames are licking at my life.
Three hashtags dominate the trending list, each one a knife:
#AlphaReedAffair
#JiltedLuna
#ClairesConquest
Beneath them, blurry photos–Alarion, unmistakable even in pixelated haste, striding into Aethervale Hospital. Another catches him in a desperate embrace with a woman whose auburn hair is as familiar as a wound, Cyrinne.
Oriana’s voice is a whisper, but it cuts through me. “It’s everywhere. Everyone here knows.”
My blood freezes. “My mother-
I don’t finish. I gather my skirts and bolt, the ceremonial headdress wobbling atop my head, pins stabbing my scalp as i race down the corridor.
The main hall swims with noise and whispers, all of it directed at me. I find my mother in her place of honor, her skin chalk- white, her trembling hands clutching her phone. Around her, the guests are openly gawking, their voices rising and falling in cruel, delighted speculation.
“Mother,” I say softly, dropping to my knees beside her.
She lifts her gaze–my eyes, in her face–stunned and searching for hope.
“Aelira, dear, everyone is saying Alarion isn’t coming,” she whispers. “They say he’s with…, that healer woman.”
I force my lips into a smile, though my mouth tastes of ashes. I take her thin, birdlike hand in mine. “It’s a
misunderstanding, that’s all. He’s… he’s bringing someone important for the ceremony.”
Even I can hear the lie in my voice. It hangs in the air, brittle and doomed.
My mother’s eyes sharpen, suspicion flaring. “Call him. Call your mate, right now.”
“Mother, I don’t think-”
“Please, Aelira.” She clings to my hand with unexpected strength. “Call him. I need to hear his voice.”
My hands shake as I dial. Oriana and Daelor hover at my back, their presence a barricade against the circling crowd. I press the phone to my ear. It rings so long I’m sure it will go to voicemail.
But then someone answers–a voice I know, bright and poisonous.
“Hello?” It’s Cyrinne. “Alarion can’t come to the phone right now,” she purrs, her tone syrupy, triumphant. “He’s… occupied.”
Her implication is unmistakable. In the background, I hear fabric rustling, the low murmur of private words.
“Cyrinne,” Alarion’s voice snaps, impatient, edged with irritation. “Give me the phone.”
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More shuffling, and then Alarion is there, straining to sound composed.
“Aelira, I’m on my way,” he says, too fast. “I’ll explain everything when I arrive.”
“Alarion, the ceremony starts in ten minutes,” I say, my voice steady, though I feel as if I’m drowning. “Where are you?”
Before he can answer, Cyrinne interrupts again, her voice closer, silkier. “Alex, I need help with this wound dressing. It’s slipping.”
I look at my mother. Her face is the color of death, her eyes wide and stricken.
I’ll call you back,” I say, and end the call with shaking fingers.
“It’s not what it sounded like,” I start, desperate to shield my mother, to hold back the avalanche of truth. “Cyrinne was inj
ured and-”
The words are stillborn. My mother’s eyes roll back, and as she slumps sideways, blood seeps from the corner of her mouth, red and shocking against her pallor.
“Mother!” I scream, lunging to catch her as she collapses.
Oriana shrieks. The guests gasp, a jagged chorus of horror and fascination. Some rush forward, others recoil, as if my mother’s suffering might be contagious.
“Emeris!” Daelor is at my side in an instant, his voice commanding, his arms strong as he lifts my mother from my grasp. “We’re taking her to Aethervale. Now.”
He doesn’t wait for agreement. He cradles her limp body like she weighs nothing and strides for the exit. I stumble after him, the extravagant gown tangling around my legs. Pain lances through my ankle as I twist it, but it’s nothing compared to the agony tearing through my chest.
“My car’s outside, Daelor calls, his voice cutting through the chaos.
I chase after him, half running, half limping, the world a blur of shocked faces and whispered judgments. Tears blind me,
but I refuse to stop.
Daelor’s black SUV waits at the curb. He lowers my mother into the back seat with a gentleness that’s almost reverent. I clamber in beside her, Driana squeezing in on the other side, her cheeks wet with tears,
“Hold her steady,” Daelor orders, sliding into the driver’s seat.
The engine roars. He drives like a man possessed, swerving through traffic, ignoring red lights, his focus absolute.
1 cradle my mother’s head in my lap, whispering prayers I don’t believe in. Her skin is cool, her breathing shallow, erratic.
“Don’t leave me,” I plead, tears falling on her lifeless face. “Please, Mother, stay with me. Please.”
Daelor speaks into his phone, his tone clipped and deadly calm. “Dr. Leyric, emergency arrival, three minutes. Female, mid- fifties, severe hematemesis. Rare werewolf blood disorder. Get your team ready.”
When we screech to a halt at Aethervale’s emergency bay, doctors and nurses are already waiting, gurney at the ready.
“Emeris Sunmere, werewolf blood disease,” Dr. Nyven Leyric calls, his voice urgent. “OR 3, now!”
Everything splinters after that. My mother is swept away by the medical team, blood smearing the silk of my ruined gown. am left behind, trembling, hollowed out, every nerve on fire.
Daelor steers me to a private waiting room, just outside the operating theater. The red light above the door is a warning: s urgery in progress.
The weight of it all–Alarion’s betrayal, the public spectacle, my mother’s collapse–crushes me. My legs fold, and I find myself sinking into a chair, numb and shaking.
“Your ankle,” Daelor says, kneeling before me. “It’s badly swollen.”
I glance down, barely registering the angry red puffiness above my shoe..
“It’s nothing.” I whisper.
C Chapter 14 Scandal at the Altar
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Daelor disregards my protest. He slips off his polished shoes, then carefully removes my ruined ceremonial footwear. His hands are gentle, deliberate.
“What are you doing?” My voice is thin, bewildered.
You can’t walk in those,” he replies quietly. He slides his much larger shoes onto my feet. “These will have to do.”
That simple, unexpected tenderness–the kindness of it–shatters the last of my composure, I break, sobbing, the sound raw and violent, wracking my entire body.
Daelor draws me close without hesitation, his arms strong and solid around me. He says nothing. He just holds me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, an anchor against the storm.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out at last, pulling away to wipe my face. “Your shirt-”
“Is just a shirt,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “Are you in pain?”
I nod, but it’s not my
ankle I mean.
“Dr. Leyric is the best,” Daelor murmurs, reading my fear. “If anyone can save her, it’s him.
I try to smile. My lips tremble too much for it to be convincing. “Thank you. For everything.”
He squeezes my hand, silent and sure.
Then my phone rings, splitting the hush of the corridor. Alarion’s name blazes across the screen, an accusation, a wound.
A torrent of emotions surges–love twisted into rage, betrayal curdling into a sharp, unfamiliar hatred.
I stare at the phone, then answer.
“Where are you? Alarion’s voice is sharp, thick with blame. “The guests are leaving. Do you realize how this looks? Our mating ceremony-
“It’s off,” I say, and for the first time all day, I feel a terrible, crystalline calm settle over me.
