Chapter 118 Opposite Of Me
Maureen Laskovic:
The fabrics were beautiful.
Soft layers of silver-threaded silk, pale blue velvet, and warm ivory cotton lay spread across the long table before me. Tiny embroidery patterns shimmered faintly beneath the afternoon light—wolves, moons, and northern stars stitched carefully into the cloth as symbols of legacy and protection. The court seamstresses had outdone themselves this time.
Lauren, Lucian, and Adrian deserved nothing less.
I ran my fingers slowly across the nearest piece, feeling the smoothness beneath my skin, imagining how small their bodies would look wrapped in such delicate work. A quiet warmth settled inside my chest as I lifted one of the tiny sleeves, holding it carefully between my fingers.
“This one,” I said, nodding once. “Use this design for Lauren. The silver trim suits her.”
“Yes, my Luna,” the head seamstress replied immediately, bowing slightly as she marked the instruction onto her parchment.
“And for Lucian,” I continued, lifting another piece, slightly heavier, richer in tone, “use the darker threadwork. He looks like he will carry strength early.”
The women around me murmured their agreement, carefully adjusting their materials as I approved each design. Piece by piece, detail by detail, everything began falling into place.
The Royal Presentation Ceremony would not be ordinary.
It could not be.
Not after decades without heirs.
Not after everything that had happened.
Once the clothing was finalized, I made my way toward the grand hall where the ceremony would take place. The space had already been partially decorated—tall banners bearing the sigil of the North hung proudly along the stone walls, and rows of polished seating lined the sides of the chamber. At the far end stood the raised platform where the children would be presented before the court.
I walked slowly across the floor, my heels echoing faintly against the marble, my eyes scanning every corner.
The draping was correct.
The placement of candles was symmetrical.
The ceremonial basin stood exactly where it should.
Everything… was in order.
Still, I checked again.
And again.
Until finally, I allowed myself a small nod.
Satisfied.
For the first time in days, something inside me felt steady.
Controlled.
As it should be.
Turning away from the hall, I began descending the staircase toward the lower level, my mind already moving through the next set of preparations.
That was when I saw her.
Celeste.
She stood in the center of the living room, motionless except for the slight tremble in her shoulders. A travel bag rested beside her feet—packed, secured, unmistakable in its purpose.
The moment her eyes met mine, she dropped instantly to her knees.
Hard.
The sound echoed sharply against the quiet room.
“My Luna!” she cried, her voice cracking as she lowered her head deeply toward the floor.
The movement drew attention immediately. A few nearby maids froze where they stood, exchanging uneasy glances as tension spread through the air like smoke.
I stopped midway down the final step, watching her carefully.
Calmly.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice steady, neither harsh nor welcoming.
She remained kneeling, her fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her dress as if holding herself together by force.
“My Luna… please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “I request permission to leave. I wish to return home.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
A quiet murmur rippled among the servants standing nearby.
I descended the remaining steps slowly, my gaze never leaving her.
“Leave?” I repeated evenly. “Why now?”
She swallowed hard, lifting her head just enough for me to see the wetness clinging to her lashes.
“I… I feel unwelcome,” she whispered. “I fear my presence brings discomfort to you. Perhaps… perhaps my mistakes have offended you beyond forgiveness.”
I remained still, studying her expression, her posture, the deliberate tremble in her voice.
A performance.
“I see,” I said quietly.
Her shoulders shook slightly as she continued, her voice growing softer, more fragile.
“I do not wish to cause further trouble, my Luna. I only wish to leave peacefully… before my presence becomes a burden.”
Behind her, the watching maids shifted uncomfortably. Some lowered their gazes, others stared openly, drawn into the unfolding drama.
Exactly as she intended.
Slowly, I stepped closer, stopping just a few paces away from where she knelt.
“You packed your belongings already,” I observed.
“Yes, my Luna,” she whispered.
Prepared.
Ready.
Waiting for approval—or denial.
Waiting for reaction.
But I had expected this.
From the very beginning, I had known she would not remain still once pressure tightened around her. A creature like Celeste would never wait quietly to be cornered.
“Very well,” I said calmly.
Her head lifted slightly in surprise.
“You wish to leave?” I continued evenly. “Then leave.”
The words landed softly.
A ripple of confusion passed through the watching servants.
Celeste blinked once, clearly not expecting agreement so quickly.
“You are free to return to wherever you came from,” I added, my voice steady and composed. “No one here is forcing you to remain.”
Her lips parted slightly, hesitation flickering across her face for the briefest moment before she lowered her head again.
“Thank you, my Luna,” she whispered.
But even as she spoke—
I saw it.
That flicker.
That brief, cold glint in her eyes.
Gone in an instant.
But not missed.
Not by me.
She rose slowly to her feet, lifting the bag from the floor with careful hands. The servants stepped aside instinctively as she turned toward the main doors.
For a moment, the room remained completely silent.
Then—
Just before stepping through the doorway—
She paused.
Turned her head slightly.
And looked back at me.
No tears now.
No trembling.
Just stillness.
Then she stepped outside.
And disappeared beyond the threshold.
The doors closed behind her with a quiet, final sound that lingered longer than it should have, like the echo of something unfinished. For a few seconds, no one moved. The servants stood frozen where they were, uncertain whether they had just witnessed an ending… or the beginning of something worse.
“Well then. That’s a big weight taken away from me,” I said, clapping my hands together once, the sharp sound cutting through the lingering tension in the room.
A few maids flinched slightly before lowering their heads, quickly returning to their duties. I turned away from the door without looking back, refusing to give the moment more power than it deserved. There was no need to dramatize what had just happened. No need to dwell.
Still… deep inside, I wasn’t fooled.
I didn’t need a seer to tell me she was planning something.
Celeste was not the kind of woman who walked away quietly. Not after everything that had happened. Not after the pressure I had placed on her. Not after the tea.
No… that exit had not been surrender.
It had been repositioning.
But for now, I had other matters to handle—real ones. Things that required attention, planning, control. The Royal Presentation Ceremony was approaching quickly, and the entire North would be watching. There was no room for weakness. No space for distraction.
And so, I moved forward.
Work swallowed the days that followed.
\---
And in what felt like the blink of an eye, a week had passed.
A full week without Celeste.
Without her silent footsteps trailing behind me. Without those calculating eyes lingering just a little too long. Without the faint unease that always seemed to follow her presence like a shadow.
My body felt lighter.
My thoughts clearer.
For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind belonged fully to me again.
No strange lapses.
No unsettling moments of doubt.
No whispers of confusion crawling into my thoughts when I least expected them.
My soul and body had never felt so whole before, so steady, so grounded in reality. It was almost frightening how peaceful everything had become. The kind of peace that didn’t soothe—but warned.
Because peace like this…
Never lasted.
I knew damn sure it was Celeste.
Not suspicion.
Not guessing.
Knowing.
Even without proof, even without catching her in the act, every piece of chaos that had surrounded me in those past days now felt connected to one source. One presence. One carefully disguised threat that had slipped into my life under the perfect mask of loyalty.
Still… one question refused to leave my mind.
What was her aim?
I frowned slightly as I walked slowly along the corridor, my fingers trailing lightly across the stone wall beside me.
What exactly had she wanted?
We hadn’t even clashed properly.
Not openly.
Not violently.
There had been tension, yes… unease, certainly… but never outright war. No direct threats. No obvious hostility. Just careful movements, quiet manipulation, and a growing sense of danger that never fully revealed itself.
So why me?
Why my children?
Why now?
I slowed my steps unconsciously, my thoughts circling deeper into places I hadn’t dared examine before.
Was it revenge?
Jealousy?
Power?
Or something older… something deeper… something tied to forces far beyond simple hatred?
And then—
Without warning—
A memory surfaced.
Sharp.
Uninvited.
Unsettling.
Her voice.
Soft.
Blind at the time.
Speaking words that had once sounded cryptic… distant… meaningless.
But now—
Now they felt heavier.
Dangerous.
Unavoidable.
“You carry the moon in your womb… and the flame will devour it.
You will break… and crown him with the ashes of heaven.”
I stopped walking completely.
The air around me felt colder somehow, pressing tightly against my skin.
Slowly, my fingers curled into my palm.
The flame.
The moon.
Not him.
Her.
Celeste.
A quiet breath slipped from my lips as realization brushed dangerously close to the edge of my unde
rstanding.
If that prophecy had never been about a man…
If it had never been about some unknown enemy waiting in the shadows…
Then it had always been about us.
Her.
And me.
Bound.
Opposed.
Destined.
One to destroy the other.
My chest tightened slightly at the thought, unease settling deep into my bones.