His Forsaken Luna-Chapter 33: In Hiding

It has been three days since her return. I have been prohibited from visiting. My beast is restless. I am restless. Food is inconsequential, the wine tastes like sand, and sleep is irrelevant.

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Time is distorted when reality comes in the form of pain. Any time I wake up from my dream world, I quickly fall back into unconsciousness, glad to escape the slashes and throbbing sensations ricocheting in my body. It is cowardly, but when I rise next, I know there will be no time to lounge around.

With a deep sigh, the dream world with my fantasy man rescuing me away from this place, striking green eyes fading into nothingness.

"Idalia?" Alaric’s voice is close by, and my dream guy’s face is gone, completely forgotten. Did he have blue eyes?

Still a little groggy, I blink open my eyes. I’m lying on my front, staring at the far side where high arched windows are framed by intricate stone tracery, with pointed arches and vaulted ceilings. The snowy exterior casts a dull light into the room that is of a haunting beauty. I know exactly where I am.

Feeling more relaxed, I almost melt further into the mattress and fall back asleep; it’s so comfortable. Was my bed always so bad?

"Idalia, please wake. You’re starting to scare me." Alaric’s voice snaps me out of my idiocy. I’d completely forgotten about my brother.

My gaze moves away from the window and focuses on Alaric’s large form. He looks tired, eyes rimmed in dark circles, his elegant and most intricately detailed coats and clothing gone, leaving him in a casual white shirt and black trousers.

"You worry too much," I mumble, my voice more croak than anything resembling speech.

Somehow, Alaric understands. "You worry too little," he grumbles and leans forward, offering me a glass of water. "I’m the one that has been waiting by your side until you wake."

I greedily accept the glass, gulping down the water and almost choking.

"Easy!" Alaric scolds, taking the glass away.

Dabbing at the side of my mouth like the lady I was, I ask, "Thank you. How long have I been passed out for?"

"Three days. It is late afternoon."

My brows rise. It is the longest I have needed to recover from such wounds. Fortunately, Margarette was never far away in times like these.

Glancing at my brother, I realise, from the state of the parchments scattered across the settee and floor in the open space parlour, that he has been working in his quarters.

The room I was currently occupying was the Queen Luna’s chambers, adjacent to Alaric’s, all connected by the parlour and his and hers water closets. My brother had yet to find a Queen. Deyanira pressured him at first, for then, once an heir is born, I would be weakened further in my position.

"I am sorry I have taken you away from your work," I answer, slowly pushing off the bed.

"Do not push yourself..." Alaric jolts forward, but I have already turned myself over and am sitting up. I’ve been changed into a white nightgown. I’m not sure if white was a wise choice, considering my wounds.

The skin on my back feels too taut and itchy, the fabric of my dress rubbing a little too sensitively against it. "Has it almost healed?"

Alaric frowns. "You are very calm about your back."

"Ah, it will heal," I state simply, waving my hand and then wincing at the pain shooting along my shoulder blade. "They never scar on my back."

Alaric stares at me, his jaw growing slack before his pupils dilate, and those clear blue eyes glow. Slowly, through a controlled breath, he asks, "How many times has my mother punished you?"

My hesitation is brief, and I swiftly compose myself. "It has only been a few times," I say quietly, ensuring I hold his gaze for fear of being caught in a lie.

Deyanira made sure I kept it quiet from my brother. It was her only weakness. Yet somehow, she used it against me. If I spoke out, anyone close to me or engaged with me recently, a servant or acquaintance, would be in a ’fatal accident.’

That threat always hung between us. Soren was always at risk. Margarette too. Then, it might be a random servant girl who’d been unfortunate to pass by.

I tested it once when I was young and much bolder. A stable boy, one who’d become Theo’s friend, was in an accident the next day. I didn’t test Deyanira again.

Alaric breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and breathing out slowly. Veins were prominent against his neck. Claws elongated from his fingernails, digging into the armrest where he clutched at the ends. Then they retreated, and he focused on me again.

"Why didn’t you come to me? I know she is my mother, but I do not accept such harsh punishments!" He searches my eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Like you said..." I murmur. "She is your mother." I hate using that against him in this. I know Alaric wouldn’t allow it, but he would never punish his own mother.

All I had to do was stay quiet, be as invisible as possible, and accept the ridicule and punishments. I knew one day I would be gone. Alaric’s expression is crestfallen, and it twists my heart to see him so conflicted.

Alaric leans forward and clasps my hand in his, his expression fierce. "I have feared over your life these past three days! You weren’t healing, and the depth of those lashes... The amount of blood lost... Any other would have died, wolf or not. You. Could. Have. Died," he enunciates fiercely. "She will be punished for this, Idalia."

I nod, wondering what son could possibly punish his parent. Alaric always stated his mother was a complicated woman. He knew she had her flaws and Goddess Blessings, and he hadn’t inherited her wickedness, but he couldn’t always keep her under control. Alaric’s presence alone usually kept her behaviours at bay, and he put her in place when possible.

But Alaric wasn’t always around. He was running a kingdom.

"I know life here has been hard on you, but I cannot help if I do not know who is bullying you. My shadows rarely report anything about you, so I presumed things were improving."

That was because they were in Deyanira’s pockets.

"Idalia," Alaric implores, his voice deeper and almost rumbling on the edge of an Alpha command. "Did you run away because of my mother?"

"There is no need for that." I glower back at him. His command did not work properly on me anyway. It probably had something to do with being blood-related. "I ran away because I was impatient. I wanted to leave, start a new life."

"Did you not think how I’d feel? Idalia, there are so many dangers outside this palace."

"I know." Suddenly, I was feeling very restless and frustrated at my brother’s reprimand.

"No, you don’t." Alaric glowered. "I told you days before there are other creatures far more powerful than us, and you decided you’d had enough of being a princess?"

I shot up, frustration shooting through me, and I immediately regretted moving so quickly. My back was on fire. I hiss at the sensation. Alaric shot up, hands ready to catch me. But I held my hand up, focusing on my breaths and the anger simmering beneath it. Oh, that was a new coping mechanism.

Hate, anger and vengeance surge towards Deyanira. It felt oddly comforting. It shouldn’t. I shook the ideas of violence away.

"Your back..." Alaric frowns. "One of your wounds has opened.

Of course, it has.

Still, I moved away from Alaric, my legs a little unsteady and my stomach cramping from lack of food, but I couldn’t stay in bed, as weak as I felt. Clearing his throat, aware I hate being pitied and looked upon as weak, Alaric changes the subject.

"I thought you were growing fond of Eryx," Alaric says gently to my back.

I freeze. Did it have to be that subject? Staring at the flames dancing in the hearth in the adjacent parlour, I controlled my balance, locking my knees.

Eryx. He knew I tried to escape. Faidon was his man; he definitely reported to him.

Would the Alpha Prince spread gossip about our night together? Goddess, this was so complicated and frustrating.

"Idalia?" Alaric calls for me after my silence.

"I am," I almost squeak out, scrunching my nose up even as warmth coils around my fluttering heart at the mention of his name. "Like I said, I grew impatient. Eryx might want to court for a while, and it is far too long..." I was too tired for excuses.

Turning, I look at my brother. "Can I stay here for a while?"

"You do not need to ask, sister." Alaric offers me his arm, and I take it, allowing him to help me to the parlour. "You will recover here for however long you need."

I’m relieved to not leave these opulent, warm chambers and to stay clear of Eryx Solerius. It was best to remain near Alaric for a while. Deyanira would also lash out because her son discovered how dreadful she really is.

Alaric orders his servants to make some soup and tea for me as I pull on his overly large robe, which fits more like a blanket on me. It is snug and almost makes my eyes droop shut.

"Oh, Alaric?" He stops scrambling some parchments together to tidy up the mess and looks at me. "How did you know I was with Deyanira?"

"Eryx."

"Huh?" Eryx?

"Your knight tried to get an audience with me when I was... occupied." He must have been with Liva. So that means Alaric didn’t know I’d left the palace. "Eryx burst through the doors with six guards trying to pin him down."

My brows rose. I wasn’t shocked by how many guards tried to stop Eryx and failed. The whole ordeal must have been embarrassing for all of them if my brother was... occupied. I cleared my throat. "And... what of Eryx after that?"

Alaric huffed. "He told me he would follow as it involved you..."

Ah, yes, he is still playing the part. For a moment there, I thought it was because he cared. Not that I care if he does or not.

Wait, so Eryx wasn’t a hallucination? Did he see me in that state? Shame and embarrassment curled around my gut, but I pushed it aside.

Could I use this now to my advantage? Surely, he now knows how I am treated and how little use I am to him.