Chapter 70
Lila
The candle on my nightstand had burned down to a stub, its flame trembling like it, too, wasn’t sure whether it should keep going
I lay on my side, fully dressed atop the blankets, my hair still damp from rinsing off the bathhouse steam. The air in my room had cooled, but heat stift clung to my skin in patches. Outside, the wind whispered against the windowpanes, fluttering the edge of the curtain with a soft, sighing sound.
Every part of me felt weighted down by the ranking still flashing behind my eyes, by Vanessa’s pointed cruelty, by Larian’s practiced charm. By the ache of Damon’s silence and Asher’s… whatever he was. And whatever was done to my wolf.
We’ve survived this long, Ruby murmured.
Her voice came low in the back of my mind, more sigh than growl tonight. The longing in her was reaching fever heights.
Damon hadn’t spoken to me in days. Not directly. Not even through a message. But I still felt him–like a shadow pressed against the edges of my ribs. Watching. Waiting.
He’s not the only one waiting, Ruby murmured.
I clenched my fists in the blanket. We can’t keep this up, Ruby.
The ceiling beams above me were crossed in perfect symmetry, unchanging, unmoved by my small storm of thoughts. I followed their shape with my eyes until my focus blurred, then turned onto my back and closed them.
I could still feel Damon’s mouth on mine, even now. That kiss in the conservatory. The way he’d held me like he knew what I was and wanted me anyway.
But he didn’t know. And now… now he barely looked at me. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out whey I hadn’t been expelled.
I rolled to my side again, restless, breath catching in my throat. That kiss had been the last thing that felt real. Everything after had felt like driftwood- things I grabbed for to stay afloat while the palace tried to pull me under.
My gaze drifted to the writing desk in the corner of the room. The ink. The journal. The sharp edge of the letter opener catching candlelight. They looked like a still life–untouched and waiting.
Something inside me stirred.
Maybe I was tired of pretending. Maybe I was just tired.
I sat up slowly, the sheets rustling beneath me like they disapproved. The floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I crossed to the desk. My gown hung off one shoulder; I didn’t fix it. The chair groaned softly as I settled into it, legs tucked beneath me.
I stared at the blank pages. What could I even say?
That I hadn’t meant to lie? That I hadn’t known how else to survive? That I had wanted him to see me–even when I didn’t know who that was anymore?
My hand hovered over the paper.
Then, slowly, I picked up my pen, and began. The first few lines came easily–like breath. Like confession.
The ink bled into the first curve of a letter, and then another, until the words began to spill out, hesitant but certain. My heart beat faster with each line, like my body was realizing too late what I was doing.
I never meant to lie to you. I just didn’t know how else to survive.
The words came slower after that. I paused more often. My hand trembled between sentences. But still, I wrote.
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Chapter 70
This place… this world. It doesn’t offer safely to girls like me unless we become someone else. Do what we’re told and nose fur trong another day. And I don’t mean this competition.
The pen scratched softly across the parchment, each stroke bleeding more of me than I meant to give. But I didn’t stop.
Not when I thought of the way Damon had looked at Nora. Not when I imagined what his face would look like if he read this.
I wrote until the candle’s light began to flicker low, until the fire behind my ribs softened to something steadier.
Until I reached the end.
That night in the conservatory… I wasn’t pretending. I want you to know that. If I could live it again, I’d do everything the same. Every step. Every word. Every kiss. I would just tell you my real name before I walked away.
I didn’t come here for you… but I want to stay. For you.
The ink blotched slightly as I hesitated over the last sentence. I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth. Slow. Measured. But it didn’t stop the shaking.
The silence in the room pressed close now, thick with the things I didn’t‘ put to paper.
I read the letter again, top to bottom. My eyes blurred by the time I reached the end. I blinked hard.
I didn’t sign it.
Not because I didn’t want to–but because I wasn’t sure I deserved to.
It was still safer this way. Just words. Just the weight of truth released from my chest, even if only onto paper.
I ripped the page from the book and stood. My knees felt strange–like they didn’t quite belong to me. The hem of my dress brushed the tops of my feet as I crossed the room to the door.
But when I reached the threshold, I couldn’t cross it.
The handle gleamed dully in the candlelight. I could hear the faint hum of feet passing somewhere down the hall, the low creak of stone and wool as the palace settled for the night.
I raised my hand.
Then froze.
What would he do if he read this? If he knew?
Would he be angry? Hurt? Would he even believe me? Or would it be too late–just another trick from a girl who wore a borrowed name too well?
I leaned my forehead against the door, letter clutched tightly to my chest.
What if I ruin everything with this?
What if I already have?
Ruby stirred again, soft but steady. He deserves the truth. And so do you.
I closed my eyes. For once, the voice in my head wasn’t fierce. It was kind. Tired. Honest.
I stepped back.
My fingers loosened around the letter. I looked at it one more time–creased now, a little smudged from where I held it too tight. But the words were still there. The truth, written in full.
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Chapter 70
I crossed to the bed and slipped it beneath my pillow like a secret offering to the night. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But it was out of me now
I sank onto the edge of the mattress and folded forward, hands covering my face.
The sob never came. Neither did the relief. Just the aching space between them.
When I finally lay down again, I didn’t pull the blanket over me. I let the air cool the sweat at the nape of my neck, let the candle burn itself out. The light faded slowly until all that was left was the sound of my breathing and the steady beat of a heart left cold.
No more pretending. But no confession yet, either.
I just needed to pick the right moment to tell him everything that wouldn’t get me or my mother killed.
