Chapter 59 Confession?
Aelira’s POV
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The morning sun has only just begun to rise as I reach Verdant Moon Herbalists. I’ve chosen to come in early to work on the moonberry–infused
remedy I’ve been developing all week.
Something feels off the instant I step inside. A group of my colleagues is
gathered outside the manager’s office, whispering excitedly.
“What’s happening?” I inquire of Lisa, one of the junior herbalists.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “A renowned wolf healer is visiting! They’ve
been in there for half an hour now.”
I nod, feeling little interest. This is a common occurrence–esteemed
healers would occasionally come for endorsements of our cooperative’s
remedies. It doesn’t directly affect me.
“Do you know who it is?” I ask casually while making my way to my
workstation.
Lisa shrugs. “Someone significant enough for the manager to bring out the
special moon–silver tea set.”
I chuckle at the thought. Our manager only used that tea set for the most
distinguished of guests.
Settling in at my workspace, I spread out the dried moonberries and start
sorting them by ripeness. The familiar task brings comfort, allowing me to
shift my thoughts away from the previous weekend with Daelor at the
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< Chapter 59 Confession?
Nightshade Pack compound.
“Aelira?”
4
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I glance up to see Jastor Halden approaching, his brow knitted in concern.
“Good morning, Jastor.” I manage a small smile while continuing my work.
He shifts uneasily. “Did you hear about the visitor?”
“Some significant healer, right? Here for an endorsement, I assume.
Jastor’s frown deepens. “It’s Cyrinne Wynthor. And she’s not here for an
endorsement. She wants to see you.”
My fingers freeze over the moonberries. “Me?”
HA
“She’s offering you the role of her exclusive herbal remedy supplier,” he explains hurriedly. “The manager is thrilled about the possible
collaboration.”
The moonberry in my hand squashes between my fingers, releasing its
tangy aroma into the air.
“She says she’s willing to put aside the previous issues between you if you accept,” Jastor adds, clearly puzzled by the term “previous issues.”
I clean my soiled fingers on a cloth, feeling a wave of nausea wash over
- me.
“I’m not interested,” I respond in a monotone.
Jastor’s expression shifts to one of surprise. “Aelira, we’re talking about
Cyrinne Wynthor here–the Chief Healer of Thunder Pack. This could be a
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<Chapter 59 Confession?
pivotal moment in your career.”
I shake my head decisively. “No.”
“But-”
“I said no, Jastor.” My voice brooks no dissent.
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He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frazzled. “The manager is not
going to be pleased. Turning down someone of Cyrinne’s caliber can lead
to repercussions.”
Just as I’m about to reply, one of the administrative assistants
approaches.
“Aelira, the manager requests your presence in his office immediately.”
I inhale deeply, clean my hands again, and follow her. Each step feels
increasingly burdensome.
Upon entering the office, I see Cyrinne Wynthor seated with her back to me, facing the manager’s desk. Next to her is Barbara, her pack representative,
wearing that all–too–familiar superior expression.
“Ah, Aelira!” The manager greets me with forced cheerfulness. “Please,
have a seat.”
I choose to remain standing. “No, thanks.”
Barbara’s piercing gaze evaluates me. “This won’t take long. We only
require your signature on this contract.”
She pushes a document across the desk toward me. The compensation
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amount catches me off guard–it rivals what the highest–paid herbalists
earn, far exceeding my current salary.
“As you can see,” Barbara continues smoothly, “we’re offering exceptionally favorable terms. Chief Healer Wynthor acknowledges your
skill with moonberry–infused remedies.”
“I’m not interested,” I repeat, leaving the contract untouched.
Barbara’s smile falters. “Perhaps you don’t grasp the weight of this
opportunity. Signing would ensure your professional advancement for
years.”
“I understand completely. My answer remains no.”
At that moment, Cyrinne turns her chair to face me, surprise evident in her
eyes as she recognizes me.
“You?” she gasps.
I meet her gaze with composure. “Shouldn’t that question be directed at
you?”
Barbara glances back and forth between us, confusion clear on her face.
“You two are acquainted?”
Cyrinne narrows her eyes. “She’s Alarion’s soon–to–be ex–Luna.”
Barbara’s jaw drops slightly. “That’s why you look so familiar! You’re
involved in the mate bond severance case!”
Our manager appears as if he’s stumbled upon a goldmine of gossip. “So
you two know each other?” he inquires eagerly.
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“Very poorly,” I reply bluntly, shattering his hopes for a straightforward
resolution.
Cyrinne stands, using her slight height advantage to loom over me. “What are you doing working here?” she asks derisively. “Didn’t you receive a
significant settlement from the mate bond severance?”
My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin at her condescension.
“I wasn’t aware my job status was any of your concern,” I respond calmly.
“Shouldn’t you be more focused on your pregnancy? Making sure you can still fit into your ceremonial gown for the marking ceremony?”
A hush descends over the room. Both the manager and Barbara stare at
Cyrinne, wide–eyed in shock.
“Pregnancy?” Barbara murmurs, clearly absorbing this news for the first
time.
Cyrinne’s face reddens with rage. Her fists clench at her sides as she
glares at me with intense animosity.
“You…” she hisses, struggling to articulate her thoughts.
Without saying another word, she grabs her bag and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her.
Barbara hurriedly collects the contract and follows, casting me one last furious glance before departing.
The manager turns to me, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the
unfolding drama.
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“Is she pregnant?” he asks with keen interest. “Cyrinne Wynthor is
pregnant, yet you’re Alarion Riven’s mate? So, she’s the homewrecker?”
I exhale heavily, suddenly feeling drained. “Yes, she’s expecting.”
“Well, this is indeed surprising,” he stumbles over his words, obviously
struggling with the consequences for our partnership. “Perhaps we should
postpone this conversation for now.”
I affirm with a nod and exit his office, disregarding the inquisitive gazes of
my coworkers who have undoubtedly caught snippets of our heated
exchange.
The remainder of my workday blurs into a cacophony of whispers and
sidelong looks. By the time I arrive back at my apartment that evening, my
shoulders are tense from the weight of the day.
A rap at my door signals Oriana’s entrance. She stands there beaming, clutching several bags of takeout.
“I’ve brought moon–seared steaks! The good ones, not the low–quality kind,”
she declares, making her way past me into the apartment.
I can’t help but grin at her exuberance. “What’s the reason for the feast?”
“Is a reason necessary to visit my best friend?” She begins laying out the food on my coffee table. “So, how did your day go?”
I groan as I flop onto the couch. “Cyrinne Wynthor came by Verdant Moon.”
Oriana freezes mid–motion, a container of steak halfway to the table.
“What? Why?”
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I relay the entire encounter as we eat, leaving out no detail. By the end,
Oriana’s face is a mask of anger.
“That manipulative, scheming-” She catches herself, inhaling deeply. “You
need to be cautious, Aelira. Someone like Cyrinne won’t take this public insult lightly.”
I nod, idly pushing my food around with my fork. “I understand.”
“Perhaps you should inform Daelor,” Oriana suggests with caution. “He
could provide assistance if Cyrinne tries anything.”
I shake my head. “I can’t keep depending on him for everything.”
“Speaking of Daelor…” Oriana leans in curiously. “How are things going with your attractive neighbor?”
I set my fork down. “Actually, I’ve been contemplating a move back to my
previous apartment.”
Oriana’s mouth drops open. “What? Why? This place is twice the size of
your old one and closer to work!”
“I know, but-”
“Did something happen during your visit to Nightshade Pack territory?” Her
eyes narrow with suspicion. “You’ve been acting differently since you
returned.”
“Nothing took place,” I assert, perhaps with too much urgency.
Oriana’s expression turns mischievous. “Then what’s with the sudden urge to relocate? This place is ideal.”
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<Chapter 59 Confession?
I pause, picking at a loose thread of the couch cushion.
“Aelira,” she pushes, “what aren’t you sharing with me?”
“Daelor…” I start hesitantly, “he seems to have feelings for me.”
Oriana’s face breaks into a victorious grin. “I knew he liked you!”
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She halts, her curiosity piqued by something in my expression. “Wait, how
do you know? Did he confess his feelings to you?”
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