Chapter 61
Lila
The palace felt colder now. Not in temperature, exactly, but in presence. The air had thinned. People whispered differently. Faces held fewer smiles and more calculation.
I felt it as I moved through the halls, like each corridor had been swept clean of any sort of welcome and filled instead with quiet judgment.
My rank still held, though it was lower–for now. But I could feel the shift in how others looked at me. I was either slightly more forgettable or more of a threat because I was allowed to return.
And there would be no rest or ‘settling in‘ for me.
The morning etiquette session was held in the sunroom, its tall glass windows filtering gold light onto polished floors and ivory cushions. The instructor waited for us, spine straight as her ruler–stick, a frown etched permanently into her narrow face.
“Posture,” she barked, the moment we entered. “Grace does
not slouch.”
I straightened reflexively, biting back a sigh. The other candidates filed in behind me, each adorned in pale blues and greys, their hair tied in court- approved styles.
Vanessa arrived last, her entrance quiet but commanding, like a bell that didn’t need to ring to be heard. She took being fashionable late to be an artform.
Her gaze skimmed over the room and as she took
a
seat so unhurried it felt aggressive.
We spent the next hour balancing porcelain teacups on saucers, practicing polite refusals and “graceful redirections” in conversation. I kept my hands steady, my tone soft, my eyes low but alert.
It was performative civility–obedience dressed as charm.
Afterward, we were assigned to shadow the morning’s minor royal event; the gifting of an heirloom book to the palace library from one of the northern Alphas.
Nothing overtly political. Just another formality. Still, every candidate showed up with painted–on smiles and careful posture. Appearances mattered more now than ever.
I stood quietly beside Emma during the ceremony, hands clasped in front of me. Nora’s voice was melodic as she recited a well–rehearsed thank–you, her every syllable calculated to appeal to the watching court.
Damon wasn’t present, but Jackson and Ronan were. And their eyes didn’t miss a thing.
“Lovely cadence,” the older noble whispered approvingly to Vanessa as we all stepped back. “You’ll be unforgettable in t uncil chambers.”
I tried not to react, but the words grated. I didn’t want Vanessa to well, didn’t want her to be unforgettable.
After the ceremony, we returned to the candidate wing for debriefing. The group murmured quietly about the next trials. No one said it outright, but everyone knew: we were nearing the final phase. The stakes were sharpening.
Vanessa brushed past me on her way to the courtyard, her gown whispering across the ground. She still hadn’t said a word to me. But her eyes took every opportunity to gloat about my lack of ranking advancement.
Ruby stirred uneasily. She’s planning something.
She always is, I whispered beneath my breath.
Later I returned to my room and unpacked a few things I had brough from home. Comfort items like my journal. Having so few friends – if any at all
1/3
Chapter 61
growing up, my journals became my confidants and my sanctuary.
I lit the candles on the writing desk; they flickered low, barely casting enough light to reach the far corners of the room. I hadn’t lit the chandelier- didn’t
was comfort in the shadows. want the room to feel too exposed. There
I felt more at home in solitude.
The others were likely finishing dinner in
stomach too tight to eat.
the
Instead, I cracked open the leather–bow =
waiting for my secrets.
I touched the first page like it might burn. The
main hall, gossiping about the next trials, pretending not to eye each other like future threats. I’d left early,
I’d set out. It had no crest on the cover, no embossed initials. Just plain, worn brown. Blank pages,
t and let the words flow.
I don’t know who I am here anymore. I’m not the daughter my father thinks he raised, not the shadow of Elena, not the injured wolf Damon sees–when he bothers to look at all anymore. I am tired of pretending. But pretending is all that’s keeping me alive…
My handwriting was smaller than normal. Tighter. It looked like someone trying not to be noticed.
My mother is still sick. I can’t stop hearing her voice when she said I looked strong. She doesn’t know the truth. About who I’ve become. About what I’m doing to keep her going. I wish I could tell her that I’m still fighting, but the truth is… I’m starting to feel like there’s no way to appease Henry enough.
I paused, ink bleeding slightly as the pen hovered too long.
Damon’s face surfaced behind my eyelids. That night in the greenhouse, his breath warm against my skin. The letter. The way his words held a gentleness I didn’t know he had.
I still dream of Damon. Not the King or the trial judge. But the male who told me I surprised him. The man who looked at me like I wasn’t just part of the machine he’s trying to control.
He hadn’t looked at me the same since. The silence between us now was louder than any accusation.
I think I’ve ruined everything. And I don’t know if I
çan fix it. But I still want to.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be chosen for who I actually am. But then I remember–there is no space for the truth in this palace. Not unless it can be turned into leverage. And I am tired of being leverage.
I shut the journal gently, pressing my palm over the cover as if that might seal the thoughts inside. For now, it would have to be enough.
The knock at the door was soft. A page. Young, wide–eyed. “Schedule update, my lady.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the parchment with a nod. The boy didn’t linger.
I waited until the door clicked shut before unfolding the update. My eyes skimmed the elegant script. Then froze.
Trial 9 Participants: Lady Vanessa, Lady Nora, Lady Elena.
Just the three of us.
The paper rustled as my hands clenched around it/Of course they’d pit me against them. I’d fallen in rank, but not far enough. Not yet.
This wasn’t just a test of skill–it was a warning. One of us would fall. One would rise..
Vanessa had charm, lineage, polish. Nora had strength and influence. I had… secrets and lies.
And not enough allies left to count.
Ruby stirred in the back of my mind. Then don’t lose.
Chapter 61
I looked down at the parchment again, fingers smoothing it out. My heart was steady now. Determined. Let them underestimate me. Let them think I was
cornered.
14.07 MON, 2
The thing about cornered wolves? We bite.
}
AD
1
Comment
Send gift
