Chapter 105
Chapter 105
Damon
The ceremonial hall reeked of smoke and theater.
Incense clung to the rafters like fog that had lost its way, thick and perfumed, masking the scent of cold stone and sweaty courtiers.
Flames flickered low in wrought–iron braziers at each corner of the room, casting everything in shades of amber and deep shadows. The air was heavy, Expectant.
I stood beside the Elders‘ semi–circle, arms folded tight, posture calm. I looked like I belonged there.
I didn’t feel like I did.
Isabella stood at the center of the circle she’d drawn herself–chalk and ash traced in careful patterns on the floor. She wore deep indigo robes threaded with silver, her face veiled in translucent fabric that shimmered in the light.
A deliberate echo of the Luna she’d lost. My first mate’s sister.
I shouldn’t have allowed this.
But I had.
Because some part of me–foolish, grasping, tired–needed to see it through. To let her burn herself out in front of the court. Or to prove me wrong.
I didn’t know which would have been worse.
The Elders looked on with a mixture of reverence and intrigue. Some leaned forward as though they might catch whispers from the dead.
Others leaned back, smug in their calculation–if Isabella embarrassed herself, it cost them nothing. If she succeeded, it gave them ammunition.
And I–I watched. Because I couldn’t look away.
Then she began to speak.
Not to the room–but to whatever ghost she claimed might listen. Her voice wove through the thick air, low and melodic. The cadence shifted into something older–an ancient dialect I only half–recognized, spoken like a prayer, or a
She moved her hands through the smoke in slow, practiced motions, and the flames in the braziers flickered in unison.
Theatrics. All of it.
Except my stomach wouldn’t stop tightening.
Lila wasn’t here and I felt grateful for it. I had left her in our room, flanked by guards for her protection.
I knew Isabella was far from finished trying to remove Lila from my life or the palace. And the last place I wanted Lila was anywhere near Isabella.
But I felt Lila’s emotions flicker through the bond. Not rage. Not fear. Just frustration. Lila didn’t know what was happening, yet–but she knew it wasn’t anything good.
Isabella dropped into stillness at the center of the circle. She inhaled sharply. And when she spoke again, her voice had changed.
It was breathy. Measured. Pitched just slightly too high.
“I see him,” she whispered. “Still holding on. Still blind.”
14:50 Sun, 8 Jung, GA.
Chapter 105
A chill ran across my skin. My jaw locked tight. The court shifted–heads tilted, bodies leaning in.
“She wears my face,” Isabella continued, voice low and tremulous. “But not my soul. She is not me. She will betray him.”
No one moved. My blood slowed in my veins. I knew what this was. I knew.
But the mimicry of Natalie’s voice still pierced something deep and half–healed.
“She is not what she claims,” the voice–Isabella–said. “You want love. You want peace. But she brings neither.”
I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. My limbs were ice. A new kind of silence settled over the court. One no apology could undo.
I didn’t speak. Didn’t refute it. Didn’t look at her again.
I turned and walked out of the room. Each step was steady. Each heartbeat thundered in my ears.
The door closed behind me with a dull click. And still, I heard that voice in the dark.
My study was dark when I entered. I let the lamps stay cold.
I didn’t need to see the room to feel its weight. The thick curtains had been drawn, muting the world into a slow suffocation. The scent of wax and old paper clung to the air, grounding me more than I wanted to admit.
I crossed to the heavy desk and braced my hands on its surface, bowing my head over the polished wood.
The voice still echoed in my skull: She wears my face… not my soul.
I had known it was a performance. I knew Isabella. She was manipulative, theatrical, and always three steps ahead of the game. But there had been something in the air–something that cut too close to the bone.
I didn’t want to believe it. But part of me hoped something of Natalie remained.
The door creaked open behind me.
“Ronan, what do you want?”
His footsteps were slow, deliberate. He didn’t stop at the desk–he moved past it and leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.
“You should’ve shut it down,” he said. “You should’ve stopped her the moment she lit that incense.”
“I know.”
Hi only response was silence.
straightened slowly, dragging a hand over my jaw. I could feel the stiffness in my bones like I’d been standing in place for days.
“You’re not the only one shaken,” I said quietly.
Ronan’s eyes were sharp in the dim light. “But you’re the only one who matters.”
I turned to face him fully, bracing myself. He didn’t waste time.
“Do you love her?” he asked. “Lila. Not the image. Not the echo. Her.”
The question landed like a blow. I opened my mouth–but nothing came.
“I need an answer, Damon,” he said, voice low. “Because if you’re still chasing a ghost, then she deserves to know. And so do we.”
Melbows found the armrests, but my hands trembled slightly as I pressed my fingers together.
Chapter 105
“I thought I did,” I said. “I thought I’d finally stopped comparing. That I’d made peace with what I lost.”
“And now?”
I stared at the grain of the wood beneath my hands. The voice echoed again in my mind. She is not me. She will betray you.
“I don’t know.”
That was the worst part. Not the doubt. The not knowing.
“I see her,” I said slowly. “And sometimes she looks like Natalie–just for a moment. A glance. A smile. The angle of her shoulder. It hits me without warning. And then it’s gone. And I see Lila again. But I don’t know if I ever stop seeing both.”
Ronan waited for me to continue.
My voice lowered. “Isabella knew that. She used it.”
“She did,” Ronan agreed. “And it worked because there’s a sliver of truth in it.”
I stood again, the chair groaning behind me.
“I’m not confused about who Lila is,” I snapped. “She’s stubborn and brilliant and reckless. She challenged me when no one else would. She made me feel something when I thought I was beyond hope.”
“But?”
I turned toward the window, where faint moonlight pressed through the curtains
“But I don’t know if what I feel is because of who she is–or who she reminds me of.”
There it was. The truth, dragged into the open like a wound.
E
Ronan let out a breath and pushed off the wall. “You can’t protect her from this if you don’t face it,” he said. “And you can’t lead us if you’re haunted by someone who’s long gone.”
He left the room without waiting for a reply.
I stood there in the dark, fingers curled into fists, the weight of the invisible crown pressing into me harder than it ever had.
Outside, the palace was still. Inside, I whispered her name once–softly.
And I didn’t know who I was calling.
