Chapter 68 Bad Feeling
Aelira’s POV
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I sit opposite Daelor at his kitchen table, the morning sun pouring through
the large windows. The scent of fresh coffee permeates the air, but my
stomach clenches at the topic of our conversation.
“You mentioned that Cyrinne was at the Riven family residence yesterday?”
Daelor asks, his silver–gray eyes scrutinizing me closely.
I nod, wrapping my hands around my herbal tea. “Dorothy informed me
that she’s been showing up almost daily, behaving as if she’s already the
Luna.”
M
H
Daelor pulls out his phone, his face inscrutable. After a few swift taps, he
slides it across the table toward me. “You might want to take a look at
this.”
I glance down at the display, initially baffled by the medical document on screen. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Cyrinne Wynthor’s medical
report.
“How did you obtain this?” I inquire, quickly scanning the doctor’s notes.
“I have contacts at Aethervale Hospital,” Daelor states matter–of–factly.
“Check the diagnosis.”
My eyes widen as I read on. The report outlines a recent appointment where Cyrinne was diagnosed with a threatened miscarriage. The doctor’s
notes indicated it stemmed from “vigorous sexual activity” and advised her
to refrain from such activities for at least two weeks.
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“This is appalling,” I exclaim, pushing the phone back towards Daelor. My
wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin at the implications. “She’s been
intimate with Alarion while asserting she has a high–risk pregnancy?”
Daelor’s demeanor shifts, shadowing slightly. “Are you certain it’s Alarion?”
I fixate on him, suddenly recalling what I witnessed at the Riven pack
house – Roderic’s furious tone, a woman in Esther’s quarters. The
connections fall into place within my mind.
“You suspect Roderic, right?” Initially, the notion seems ridiculous, but then
memories flood back – Roderic’s favoritism towards Cyrinne, his animosity
towards me, his demand for Alarion to mend things with her.
“It’s conceivable,” Daelor responds thoughtfully. “It would clarify many
things.”
The thought makes my stomach churn. “That’s… utterly vile. She’s meant
to be carrying his grandchild.”
“A child that could legitimately be his,” Daelor adds in a hushed tone.
The weight of the suggestion lingers heavily between us. If Cyrinne is
having an affair with Roderic Riven, it introduces a horrifying potential
motive for Esther’s unexplained illness.
“Now it all makes sense,” I remark, unconsciously placing a hand on my
abdomen where my unborn pup resides. “If Cyrinne aims to be Luna,
Esther would pose her greatest threat.”
Daelor agrees with a nod. “A mother–in–law who loathes you and would
instantly recognize if the pup isn’t her son’s.”
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“Esther always saw through Cyrinne’s schemes,” I respond. “She’d know right away if the pup isn’t Alarion’s.”
“Were you able to obtain those medicine samples from Dorothy?” Daelor
inquires.
I confirm with a nod. “She sent them to the lab yesterday. We’re awaiting
the results.”
The notion that Cyrinne might have poisoned Esther sends a shiver down me. I’ve known her to be cunning, but capable of attempted murder? That thought is chilling.
“I just hope we are mistaken,” I whisper, although deep down, I realize we likely are not.
*****
The following morning, as I’m organizing my herbal remedies, my phone
buzzes. Spotting Dorothy’s name, I quickly pick up.
“Dorothy? Have you received the results?”
The elderly housekeeper’s voice crackles on the line. “The lab didn’t find
anything suspicious, Ms. Aelira.”
I sink onto the edge of my couch, feeling a mix of confusion and concern.
“Nothing at all? Are they certain?”
“They analyzed everything – her pills, her tea, even the herbal supplements.
Everything matches what it should be.” Dorothy sounds as confused as I
- am.
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If it isn’t poisoning, what could account for Esther’s deteriorating health?
“Could they have overlooked something?” I query, my wolf inside me
whimpering with worry. “Perhaps there’s something unusual that standard
tests might miss?”
“That’s a possibility,” Dorothy concedes. “However, I’ve been considering… if someone were poisoning her food or drink, wouldn’t that affect others in
the household, too?”
That’s a valid point that I hadn’t considered.
“Lady Esther eats the same meals as the others in the pack house,
“Dorothy reminds me. “And no one else has shown any symptoms.”
“What about her personal medications?” I propose. “Is it possible someone
tampered with those?”
“But the tests revealed nothing wrong,” Dorothy counters. “I’ve personally
handled her medication since she became ill. No one else manages it.”
I massage my temple, trying to grasp the situation. If Esther isn’t being
poisoned, what is happening to her? And if it is poisoning, how is it being
administered without affecting anyone else?
“I’ll keep a vigilant eye here,” Dorothy assures me. “And I’ll update you on
any changes in Lady Esther’s condition when she’s back from the hospital.”
After ending the call, I find myself pacing restlessly in my apartment, troubled by the conversation. There’s something off about the situation, and an unsettling feeling lingers that suggests we’re overlooking a vital
detail.
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Then my phone rings again, this time it’s Daelor.
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“Daelor?” I respond, my mind still preoccupied with my earlier discussion
with Dorothy.
“Aelira,” his deep voice resonates clearly. “Tonight, there’s a ceremony honoring exceptional werewolf healers. Cyrinne Wynthor is among the award recipients.” FG
Immediately, my mood darkens. “How wonderful for her,” I reply with
sarcasm.
“Roderic Riven will be present as well,” Daelor continues. “It’s an excellent
chance to observe them together.”
I pause, contemplating. The idea of witnessing Cyrinne accept an award while deep down I suspect her of dreadful deeds churns my stomach. Yet, if it could help me uncover more about her connection with Roderic.
“I’m not sure, Daelor. Remember, I’m meant to be resting in bed?”
“I can stream it live for you,” he proposes, a hint of amusement evident in his voice. “I’ll set up a hidden camera and describe everything I see. ‘Cyrinne just placed her hand on Roderic’s arm. Now they’re sharing meaningful looks over the shrimp cocktail.””
Despite everything, I chuckle softly. “Alright,” I give in. “But I genuinely doubt I can bear to watch Cyrinne accept an award for her so–called ‘healing
abilities‘ knowing the truth about who she is.”
“I’ll be right there with you,” Daelor assures me. “If it gets overwhelming, we
can leave right away.”
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His words provide comfort. Knowing Daelor will be near eases my mind
about facing Cyrinne and Roderic.
“What time should I prepare for?” I inquire.
*****
The awards ceremony takes place at the Lunar Hall, one of the most
esteemed venues in the territory. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the lofty
ceiling, casting a warm radiance over the werewolves gathered in their
finery.
I’m dressed in a flowing midnight blue gown that discreetly hides my two-
month–old pregnancy bump, complemented by an elegant shawl draped over my shoulders for extra coverage. Surprisingly, my wolf remains calm
even in this crowded space filled with unfamiliar scents.
“Do you spot Roderic?” I whisper to Daelor, who stands beside me in an impeccably fitted suit that highlights his strong Alpha physique.
“Not yet,” Daelor replies, his silver–gray eyes scanning the crowd. “Don’t fret. The formal presentations will wrap up soon, and then the banquet begins. That’s when people will start to mingle and engage more naturally.”
My gaze drifts to the front of the hall where Cyrinne stands, encircled by photographers. She appears radiant in a fitted emerald gown that elegantly shows off her early pregnancy, her auburn locks styled in intricate curls. She beams as she poses with the territory’s most distinguished pack
leaders.
“She really excels at this,” I murmur. “Portraying the innocent, devoted
healer.”
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Daelor’s hand lightly brushes my shoulder, sending an unexpected warmth coursing through me. My wolf reacts with a sense of contentment rather than apprehension at his touch.
“You look uncomfortable standing. Here,” he says, pulling out a chair from
a nearby table. “Take a seat. We can observe the event from here.”
Gratefully, I lower myself into the chair, realizing my feet have begun to
ache. Daelor’s thoughtfulness surprises me in a way I didn’t anticipate.
“Thanks,” I express softly.
He nods, his focus shifting back to the crowd. “Look,” he whispers.
“Roderic is making his way to Cyrinne now.”
I track his gaze and see Roderic Riven approaching Cyrinne as the
photoshoot concludes. Clad in an expensive suit, his silver–streaked hair is impeccably styled, radiating the self–assurance of a former Alpha.
Cyrinne turns to face him, her emerald eyes glowing with what seems like genuine delight. Even from this distance, I can notice the shift in her body language – the subtle tilt of her head, the slight lean towards him.
Roderic’s hand glides to the small of her back in a gesture that feels too
personal for a future father–in–law.
As Cyrinne wraps up her photoshoot with the territory’s leading pack leaders, looking radiant in a form–fitting gown that highlights her early
pregnancy, Roderic approaches her.
