His Forsaken Luna-Chapter 147: Bloodlines

The weight of Alaric’s words hung over the table heavily, halting my lungs from breathing as my breath sharply inhaled. The candles flickered against the stone walls, their glow casting elongated shadows across our faces. The dinner, which had barely begun, now lay untouched. No one was thinking about food anymore.

I gripped the edge of the table as if it might somehow keep my world from shifting beneath me. My heart pounded in my chest, and through the bond, I could feel Eryx’s steady presence beside me—his own emotions tightly leashed, but his focus unwavering on Alaric.

I swallowed hard, allowing myself to breathe again. "Say that again," I murmur, my voice tight. What does he mean Deyanira is not his mother?

Alaric’s gaze was sharp, his expression serious. "Deyanira is not my mother. Our mother—your mother, Idalia—was also mine."

When I couldn’t breathe or do anything but stare at Alaric, my mate spoke, a growl rumbling in his voice, though he seemed to try and control it. "How? You need to explain yourself instead of making my mate anxious."

"She... altered everyone’s memories," Alaric continued, his voice steady, but I could see the flicker of anger burning beneath his composure. "Deyanira had control over our minds—over the entire palace, over our father, over the court." His jaw clenched. "For years, we believed she was his mistress. That I was the result of their union. But it wasn’t real."

I forced myself to breathe, to think through the haze of disbelief clouding my mind.

My mother.

Alaric and I... we had always been close, but I had never questioned our bond beyond what I had been told. We were half-siblings—or so we had thought.

I shook my head, trying to process it. "How? How did she do this?"

Alaric exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Dark magick. She weaved illusions into our very minds, suppressing the truth and replacing it with a story of her own making." He looked down, voice tight. "And now I remember everything."

"How do you know?" I ask, but I can see the brightness in his gaze now. He looks awake.

"I don’t..." My mind was throbbing as slowly I felt like invisible ribbons became more and more frayed. Images that were familiar but seemed surreal flashed across my mind, but then most of them sliced into two as the ribbons went taught in my mind again, revealing what I assumed were only a few memories.

Alaric was telling the truth. He was my mother’s son. I shivered at how much power the woman must have used to create such a ruse.

There my mother was cuddling us both as young children before we ran to our father when he returned from a hunt. My eyes filled with tears at such a loving memory. It almost didn’t feel real. But it felt realer than anything she’d forced into my mind.

My fingers curled into fists. "And our father? He let this happen?"

"No." Alaric’s voice turned bitter. "He was under her spell just as we were. When he brought her into the palace, she wasn’t his mistress—she was an invader. A conqueror who didn’t use weapons but something far worse—control. She made him believe he loved her. Made the world believe she belonged here."

A sick feeling churned in my gut.

The warning from the wildlings... The witch in the palace... It was Deyanira.

Eryx, who had been silent, finally spoke, his tone low but heavy with understanding. "Deyanira didn’t just infiltrate the palace," he said. "She stole it."

Alaric nodded. "Yes."

Silence settled over us.

For a long moment, I could only hear the distant flickering of the torches outside the dining hall, the faint howl of the wind sweeping across the snow-covered courtyard.

I had spent my life grieving my mother, knowing only the stories of her gentle rule, her wisdom, her kindness. But now, a new wave of anger burned through me.

"She took her from us," I whispered. "She took our mother."

Alaric’s expression darkened. "She did more than that. She stole my entire identity. She twisted our family’s history."

She twisted us.

My wolf growled inside me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to contain my anger much longer. Deyanira wasn’t just some enemy. She wasn’t just a Witch who had manipulated the court.

She had taken everything.

And she had done it so well that none of us had known the truth.

"Why?" I ask. "If she’s this powerful, why did she manipulate everyone into believing she was the Queen Mother, mistress to our father? She could have just overthrown this place?" I asked the questions, starting to swarm my mind. "Surely this took more power... especially how long she maintained this charade for."

My gaze landed on Alaric again. "She treated you kindly, like a son... It may be a manipulation, but did she do anything to you?"

"Besides corrupting my mind?" My brother snaps sarcastically, then sighs when I flinch and run a hand down his face. "No, she treated me..." He clenched his fists on the table. "She treated me like any mother to a child, offering advice about the kingdom."

He paled even more like he felt nauseous. I didn’t blame him. I felt sick from listening to what she has done to us. But it affects him the most.

"Good... Because she poisoned me for years and made the court despise my existence..." I hold my hand up before Alaric can say anything more. "I am not looking for an apology nor competing with you about who she treated worse but none of this makes sense to me. Why go so far?"

I exhale as Eryx’s fingers brush against mine beneath the table. A silent anchor. "Perhaps it was personal," he suggests, and we look to him then, both looking and feeling drained from this revelation and needing some form of explanation from another even if it might not be true. It was a lot to wrap my mind over.

"It could be something as simple as vengeance. How old is Deyanira? It was said witches are known to live long lives. Did your father do something to upset her?" He asks, making valid points.

My father, the man I believed to have turned his back on me and my mother. He’d died shortly after my mother was beheaded, which always shocked me. They had been true mates like me and Eryx, if one dies another will die within five years. My father died two months later, bound in bed since my mother lost her life.

"No," Alaric shook his head, eyes distant. "If he’d really done something to Deyanira she would have ensured our mother lived so he could watch as the court becomes corrupted..."

I let out a bitter breath. "The people still think Deyanira was our father’s mistress. That you are her son."

Alaric’s expression hardened. "Yes. And the longer that lie remains unchallenged, the longer her legacy poisons this kingdom."

I looked at my brother. My full brother.

I reached for his hand across the table, gripping it tightly. "We tell them," I said. "We tell the people the truth."

Alaric met my gaze, and for the first time since this conversation began, I saw something flicker in his eyes—relief.

Eryx nodded. "The truth needs to come out now. Deyanira will use whatever power she still has to maintain control."

Alaric exhaled, rubbing his chin. "And there’s more."

I stiffened. More?

He met my gaze, his next words like ice in my veins.

"She’s after you, Idalia. She’s been acting desperate since Eryx arrived and you were starting to grow stronger."

My wolf snarled in my mind, and I felt Eryx’s immediate reaction—fury, protectiveness, the instinct to fight.

I clenched my jaw. "Why?"

Alaric’s face was grim. "Because you are the true heir, the daughter of the rightful Queen. You and I both have her blood, but you..." He exhaled. "She was always threatened by you..."

A chilling sensation crawled up my spine. I didn’t think Deyanira ever believed me a threat, especially if she was so powerful. Surely she would have killed me straight away? "But how? I was never a threat?" I made sure of it to survive.

Alaric shook his head. "I don’t know. I do not know her plans, but she will not get to you. We know she is not our ally."

My fingers dug into the table, anger burning through my veins. "If she thinks I will stand aside—if she thinks I will let her take more from us—she is wrong."

Eryx’s arm settled around my shoulders, solid and warm. "She won’t take you, ever."

Alaric’s expression softened, but the weight of our conversation remained heavy. "We don’t know what she’s planning yet, but we need to prepare. We need to be ready."

I straightened. "Then tell me what we need to do."

Alaric hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "We start by gathering the Lords of the Packs. They need to know the truth. And then..." He exhaled. "We find her first."

"We hunt down Deyanira," I confirm, and Alaric nods. "As well as the High Fae..." I say, feeling suddenly very drained. My words added a heaviness to the room about all that we had yet to face.