Chapter 98 The Shattered Mirror
"I said a lot of things, Ronan." Pandora purred as she shut the heavy mahogany door. "Which one are you referring to?" She moved toward Ronan with a swaying, practiced confidence, her silk gown rustling like a warning.
Ronan glanced at her with a frown etched on his face, "You are awfully quite bold, Pandora."
"You’ve always liked it when I’m bold," she murmured, her voice a low, honeyed drawl. She stopped just inches from his back, the heat radiating from her body clashing with the killing frost of his aura. "But I have to say, your little Tribrid is quite the sensitive thing. One mention of our history and she looked ready to shatter. Is that really what you want? A queen made of glass?"
Ronan turned.
He didn't do it slowly. It was a sharp, predatory pivot that brought him face-to-face with her. He didn't look at the skin she had so carefully bared. He looked at her eyes, and for the first time in years, Pandora felt a flicker of genuine, cold-blooded fear.
"You went to her," Ronan said. His voice was a flat, dead horizontal line. "You sought her out while she was recovering. You stood in my palace and poisoned the mind of my mate."
"Poisoned?" Pandora laughed, a sharp, brittle sound that echoed off the stone walls. She stepped closer, reaching out to trail a finger along the back of his tunic. "I told her the truth, Ronan! Why are you acting like I committed treason? We were together. That night in the moon pool... you didn't treat me like a stranger then. You held me like I was the only thing keeping you from drowning in that fever. I gave you the only peace you had for 8 years. Did you expect me to just... delete that? To pretend I didn't save you?"
Ronan moved then. It wasn't a slow movement. It was a blur of predatory speed. Before Pandora could blink, he had her pinned against the stone wall. He didn't touch her throat, but his aura slammed into her, a physical weight that made her lungs hitch.
"That night was a mistake born of agony," Ronan hissed, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, molten silver light. "One night, Pandora. One night of desperation where I was so blind with pain I would have reached for a blade to end it. You weren't my savior. You were a mistake."
Pandora’s face went pale, her smug expression fracturing into something jagged and raw.
"One night?" she repeated. Her voice rose, hitting a shrill, frantic pitch that grated against the stone walls. "One night?"
She took a staggering step toward him, her hands clawing at the air as if trying to grab hold of the years slipping through her fingers.
"We grew up together, Ronan! I was the one who stayed when the elders whispered you were cursed. I was the only one who didn't fear the shadows bleeding out of your skin!"
She let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, her eyes wide and bloodshot. The poised, high-fashion mask she had worn into the room was gone, replaced by the frantic desperation of a woman watching her world collapse.
"I was your best friend. I was the only person who could walk into your chambers without an invitation! I was the person you reached for when the world got too loud!"
She slammed her fist against her own chest, the sound dull and heavy.
"And you’re going to throw it all away? Twenty years of friendship! Of loyalty! For a girl who has been here for what? Not up to a year? For a spineless brat who doesn't even know how to hold her own weight?"
Ronan didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just watched her unravel, his silence acting like a vacuum that sucked the oxygen out of her lungs.
"She is nothing!" Pandora shrieked, her voice cracking. "She’s a placeholder! A biological accident! I am the one who actually knows you, Ronan! Not her!"
"You threw our friendship away the moment you touched her!" Ronan snarled, the shadows in the room snapping toward her like whips. "Every time I look at you now, I don't see a friend. I see the reason I was late to find her. Morrigan told me, Pandora. That very moment of relief I felt with you was a scream suppressed in Elara’s throat. You helped me torture my mate."
"I loved you!" Pandora screamed.
The sound was raw, a jagged tear in the oppressive silence of the room. Her voice cracked, the high-pitched vibration of her vocal cords signaling the final collapse of her composure. She wasn't the poised, high-fashion strategist anymore; she was a woman drowning in her own delusions.
She lunged forward, her hands clawing at Ronan’s arm with a sudden, frantic desperation. Her nails snagged on the fine fabric of his tunic, her grip tight enough to leave bruises through the cloth.
"She’s a child!"
Pandora’s eyes were wide, the whites shot through with broken red vessels as she stared up at him. She was breathing in short, hitching gasps, her chest heaving against the silk of her low-cut gown.
"She’s a fragile, spineless Tribrid who can’t even handle a marking without collapsing! She doesn't have our history! She hasn't bled for this pack like I have!"
She shook his arm, her strength fueled by a hysterical, white-hot rage that made her pulse visible in the vein of her neck.
"How can you choose her? How can you look at me— Someone who actually knows your soul, Ronan! Someone who stayed when the shadows were too much for anyone else!"
She let out a sharp, ugly sob, her head falling back as she laughed through the tears. It was a hollow, broken sound that echoed off the cold stone walls.
"How can you look at me and tell me I’m a mistake? That our history... that everything we built together is just a footnote in her story?"
"Because you are," Ronan said, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than the shout. "I never loved you, Pandora. Not for a second. Even when I was with you, I was looking for something else. I was looking for her."
Pandora’s breath hitched, the sound catching in her throat like a jagged shard of glass.
A single tear of pure, ugly rage escaped her eye, carving a dark track through the heavy powder on her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. Instead, she stared at Ronan, her expression twisting into something unrecognizable. A mask of pure, unadulterated spite.
She started to laugh.
It wasn't the melodic, practiced giggle she used at court. It was a high-pitched, hysterical sound that grated against the oppressive silence of the room, bouncing off the stone walls until it felt like it was crawling under Ronan’s skin.
"You’re a fool," she spat, the words dripping with a venom that eclipsed any physical blow. "A delusional, golden-eyed fool."
She leaned forward, her red hair matted to her temples, her eyes wide and burning with a frantic, dying light.
"You think she’ll forgive you? You think a fated bond is enough to erase what we did?"