Chapter 123
Chapter 123
Damon
The ballroom shimmered with gold and candlelight; every surface polished to gleam and reflect power. Crystal chandeliers swayed faintly with the movement of the crowd, their light bending off silk coats and jewel–studded collars.
I hated these events.
I stood near the dais, half–listening to a Beta from the coastal Packs drone on about shifting trade routes, while my eyes stayed fixed on her.
Lila stood across the room, surrounded but not embraced, her posture regal and remote as she nodded politely to a cluster of high–ranking nobles.
She wore dark green tonight, velvet that skimmed her hips and set off the warmth in her eyes. A sapphire pin, shaped like a crescent moon, was nestled
at her collar. A quiet echo of my house crest.
She hadn’t noticed me watching. But she always knew when I was.
I didn’t interfere. Not unless I had to. And I had to the moment Lord Merrick opened his mouth.
The man was old blood, thick with entitlement and the kind of cruelty that was bred into him. He leaned in toward Lila just enough to make her tense, his voice pitched low but not low enough to avoid my hearing.
“Brave of you to come tonight, my dear,” he said. “It must be… strange, being paraded so openly while the King still hasn’t set a date to officially crown you Luna. Or is that the appeal? Temporary indulgence, no real expectations?”
My blood chilled.
The group around them chuckled politely, awkwardly. None of them brave enough to agree but not foolish enough to challenge him either.
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Lila’s shoulders remained square, her chin high, but I saw it: the faint narrowing of her eyes, the way her fingers curled around themselves like she was imagining wrapping them around his neck.
I was already moving before I realized it.
“Lord Merrick,” I said, voice smooth and cool as steel. “You’re right, Lila is brave. Not just for standing here tonight, but for continuing to serve this Court with unwavering dedication despite unprovoked insult.”
The entire conversation ground to a halt. Heads turned. Wine paused mid–sip.
But I kept going.
“Your comments would be more at home in the days when females were decorative.” I stepped beside Lila, close enough that our shoulders nearly
touched.
“She’s not here to be looked at. Her insights on Pack diplomacy have proven invaluable. In fact, I would suggest more of you listen when she speaks, your territories might run better for it.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Lila blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. But I saw the way her jaw loosened. I felt the tension in her shoulders shift, just slightly.
Merrick’s lips parted like he might speak, but I met his eyes and tilted my head the barest degree. That was all it took.
He bowed stiffly. “Of course, Your Majesty. My intention was not to offend.”
“Then perhaps next time you’ll consider staying silent.”
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I turned back toward the crowd, scanning the rest of the room in one slow arc, letting the moment land.
No one else spoke. We stood in silence for a moment longer before I leaned down, just enough that only she could hear me.
“You looked bored,” I murmured. “I thought I’d liven things up.”
That corner of her mouth quirked up. Not quite a smile. But not a glare, either. I’d call that progress.
As I moved to step away, I let my hand brush lightly against hers. A brief touch. The barest contact.
But it grounded me. Reminded me why I kept fighting so hard to stay in control.
She was mine. But she hadn’t chosen me yet.
And until she did, I would protect her with everything I had, word by word, moment by moment, in private an in public until she saw what I could never say aloud in front of a court full of vultures.
So I stood beside her, unshaken and silent, long after the murmurs faded, until duty called me elsewhere and she slipped away into the crowd without a word.
The moon had risen high by the time I found her again.
The palace gardens were nearly empty, the court still lingering in the ballroom, drunk on honeyed wine and their own smugness.
I moved quietly through the hedged paths, guided more by instinct than by sight. The air was sharp enough to make my coat collar feel too tight and my breath visible in front of me.
Lila was sitting on a low stone bench beside the lily pond; her shoulders hunched just slightly beneath a midnight shawl. Candlelight from the garden lanterns gilded the tips of her hair in bronze.
She hadn’t heard me approach, or maybe she had and just didn’t care. Good. That meant she didn’t feel threatened. Maybe she was just as tired as I was of this gathering.
I watched her for a beat, memorizing the look of her.
Her spine was straight, but not stiff. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers laced, knuckles pale from how tightly she was gripping them.
Her expression was unreadable in profile, but her scent was a shade off, too muted. I could tell her mind was racing.
“I brought you something,” I said softly.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze flicking toward me. Calm. Distant. A thousand thoughts behind her eyes.
“From your armory so I can defend myself next time against their cutting words?” she asked dryly, though there was no heat in it.
I allowed myself a breath of amusement. “No. From home.”
Her brow furrowed, faintly. I stepped forward, slowly, and pulled the small, wrapped bundle from my coat pocket.
Unwrapping the cloth carefully, I held it out in both hands.
A wolf, no larger than a finger. Whittled from ironwood, its features rough, but carefully carved. The lines of its stance alert, one paw raised. A silent
sentinel.
“I carved it when I was thirteen,” I said. “The first winter I spent away from my mother, I hated the palace. How cold it was. I used to sleep with this in my hand to remind myself I was strong when the world felt too big.”
She didn’t take it right away. She stared at it, unmoving. Then, finally, she reached forward and plucked it from my palms with careful fingers, like it might burn her. She turned it over slowly in her hands.
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“You made this?” she asked.
I nodded and she was quiet for a long mothen, without looking at me, she said, “Why give it to me now?”
I could’ve said something charming like Asher would have done. Instead, I said, “Because it meant something when I had nothing. And tonight, when i stood there surrounded by people who pretend they don’t see you… I wanted you to feel strong when the world feels too big.”
Her fingers curled around the little wolf like she meant to protect it. Or crush it. I couldn’t tell.
“I’m not yours,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I replied.
She finally looked up. Her eyes were sharp, and they drew me in.
“Not yet,” I added, softer.
Her mouth twitched, something close to a smile, but too brief to catch. Then she stood, slipping the wolf into her coat pocket with care that undid me.
“Thank you,” she said.
Two words. But they landed like a promise.
I didn’t try to follow her when she walked away. I just stood in the garden alone, watching her disappear back toward the palace.
And I let myself hope that she was close to choosing me.
