Chapter 45 Crack in the glass
Chapter 45: The Cracks in the Glass
The doors to the guest wing slammed shut with a violence that made the nearby torches flicker. Inside the lavishly appointed chambers, Lady Pandora did not stop moving. She grabbed a crystal perfume decanter from her vanity and hurled it against the wall. The scent of crushed roses filled the room, cloying and thick, as the glass shattered into a thousand jagged diamonds.
"A mere outcast!" Pandora hissed, her chest heaving as she swept her arm across the marble tabletop. Brushes, powders, and silver-backed mirrors crashed to the floor. "He scolded me. For her! A nameless, scentless witch!"
In the corner of the room, a maid bowed low, her forehead nearly touching the carpet. Kira had been waiting for this arrival for weeks, sensing a shift in the palace power dynamics that she intended to exploit.
"Lady Pandora should not be so offended," Kira whispered, her voice oily with false sympathy. "The King is not himself. It is clear to those of us who serve here that the girl must have hexed him. A dark spell to cloud his judgment."
Pandora stopped her path of destruction. She blinked, slowly turning to face the maid. The rage in her eyes cooled into a sharp, calculating interest. She frowned, her gaze raking over Kira’s subservient form.
"And you are?"
"My name is Kira, my Lady," the maid replied with another deep bow. "I have been assigned to take care of you during your stay here. I only wish for the rightful order of the palace to be restored."
Pandora scoffed inwardly, though she did not dismiss the girl. She walked toward the tall window, staring at her own reflection in the dark glass. She looked like a Queen, even with her hair disheveled and her emerald dress stained with boiled wine.
"Tell me," Pandora murmured, her voice eerily calm. "What do you know about this Elara?"
Kira stepped forward, eager to spill the poison she had been gathering. She told Pandora everything. She started with how Elara had been brought to the palace half dead over seven months ago, a tattered slave from the North. She detailed the King’s strange behavior, and most importantly, how the King had stopped showing signs of the chronic pain that had plagued him for years ever since she arrived.
Pandora’s breath hitched when Kira reached the climax of the palace gossip.
"People speculate that she is the King’s mate," Kira said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial level. "But it cannot be possible. She isn't even a wolf, and she certainly is not fit to be a Queen."
The King’s mate?
Deep inside Pandora, her wolf, Vespera, let out a low, predatory hiss. No one deserves to be Ronan’s mate but us. The moon made a mistake if she chose a rabbit to lead wolves.
"Of course," Pandora muttered aloud, her voice trembling with a new, dangerous resolve. Her hand rested against the heavy glass of the window, her fingers splayed. "No one will take Ronan away from me. No one."
She stared at her reflection, her eyes narrowing until they were nothing but slits of lethal gold. "Anyone who dares to try will be crushed."
Underneath her palm, a spiderweb of cracks suddenly blossomed across the windowpane. The sound of the glass fracturing was like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Across the palace, the mood was far less murderous, though no less heated.
Elara paced the length of her bedroom, her silk nightgown swishing around her ankles. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Pandora’s hand near Ronan’s. She heard that melodic, mocking laugh.
"Inseparable," Elara mimicked under her breath, her voice high and bitter. " MATCH MADE BY THE MOON! Ha!"
She grabbed a decorative pillow from her bed and punched it.
"My Lady, if you keep hitting the bedding, you won't have anything to sleep on," Liora said, struggling to hide the widening grin on her face.
Faye stood by the wardrobe, folding Elara’s discarded training leathers. She giggled, nudging Liora with her elbow. "I think it’s cute. I’ve never seen our Little Moon so... spirited."
"I am not spirited! I am annoyed!" Elara huffed, turning to face them. Her silver hair was messy, and her cheeks were flushed a deep, indignant pink. "Did you hear her? Catching silver-fin trout? Falling in the water? They have a history. They have happy memories. I have... I have chores and scars."
"You have the King’s heart," Liora reminded her gently, though her eyes danced with mischief. "He didn't look at Lady Pandora once after you started to glow. He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole."
"He was just worried I would blow up the dining table," Elara grumbled, though she stopped pacing. She sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. "She’s just so... red. And loud. And she thinks she owns him because she knew him when he was ten."
Faye walked over and began unbraiding Elara’s hair, her touch soothing. "She is a guest, Elara. You are the one he stays with when the doors are closed. You're jealous, and it’s perfectly normal."
"I am not jealous," Elara insisted, her bottom lip poking out in a way that made both maids burst into quiet laughter. "I just think she’s rude. And her gold coins make too much noise."
"Of course, my Lady," Liora said, tucking the blankets in. "It’s definitely the coins."
Elara climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She felt small and silly, but the fire in her blood hadn't quite died out. As she drifted toward sleep, she didn't think about Pandora’s threats or Kira’s lies. She thought about the weight of Ronan’s hand on hers and the way he had felt her pain before she even spoke.