Chapter 42: Threads Unraveling

I choked on the piece of bread I'd just bitten into, coughing so hard my eyes watered while I stared at Dad in complete horror.

"No!" The word came out strangled between coughs. "Dad, no!"

But he just kept winking at me like this was some wonderful secret between us, completely oblivious to the fact that I was dying inside. My face burned hot enough to set the entire castle on fire.

"What?" he said, still with that pleased smile. "The whole pack approves actually. I've been hearing nothing but good things about him."

I used my eyes to desperately signal him to stop, please god just stop talking, but he either didn't notice or chose to ignore my silent pleas.

Mom had her face buried in her hands, sighing so loudly I could hear the exasperation from across the table. At least someone understood how mortifying this was.

"David," Mom said through her fingers, her voice muffled. "Please stop."

"What? I'm just saying our daughter has good taste—"

The sharp scrape of chair legs against stone cut him off. Fiona stood abruptly, her face flushed with anger as she pushed away from the table so hard her chair nearly tipped over.

"I'm done with breakfast," she said, her voice tight and controlled in that way that meant she was barely holding it together. "I have things to do."

"Fiona—" Dad started, frowning as he watched her head toward the door.

But she was already walking away, her back rigid and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"What happened between you two?" Dad asked, turning to look at me with concern replacing his earlier cheerfulness. "You've been avoiding each other for days now."

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because thinking about Fiona made something twist painfully in my chest, made that memory I was trying so hard not to examine push harder against the walls I'd built around it.

Instead, I grabbed whatever I could reach from my plate, shoving a piece of cheese and some fruit into my pockets like I was twelve years old again sneaking food to eat in the gardens.

"I have things to do too," I said quickly, standing up before Dad could ask more questions. "Training to catch up on. Lots of training. So much training."

Then I practically ran out of the dining hall in the opposite direction from where Fiona had gone, because I couldn't handle being in the same room as Dad's concerned questions or Mom's knowing looks or Lucian's apologetic eyes.

I made it maybe twenty steps down the corridor before I crashed straight into Roslyn.

She stumbled backward with a startled yelp, the tray she'd been carrying tilting dangerously as plates and cups threatened to spill everywhere. I grabbed her arm to steady her, catching a teacup just before it hit the floor.

"Sorry," I said breathlessly. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's fine, Miss Chloe," Roslyn said, but her voice sounded strained. Off somehow.

I looked at her more carefully then, actually seeing her instead of just reacting. Her face was flushed and there was sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool morning air. Dark circles shadowed her eyes like she hadn't slept well, and her hands trembled slightly as she rearranged the items on her tray.

"Roslyn?" I frowned, genuine concern pushing through my own problems. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Nothing!" The word came out too fast, too bright. "I'm fine, just tired from all the extra work lately with the Shadow Pack guests staying and—"

"You're not fine." I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You look like you're about to collapse. When's the last time you slept properly?"

"I'm fine," she repeated, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. "Really, Miss Chloe. Don't worry about me."

Then I remembered. That day before everything had gone to hell with the treatment and my wolf coming back and Marcus leaving. Roslyn had been about to tell me something.

"Wait," I said, catching her arm gently before she could hurry away. "Before, you said you had something to tell me. About Fiona. Is that what's bothering you? Is it related to her?"

Roslyn's face went even paler if that was possible, and for a second I thought she might actually tell me. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"No," she finally said, the word barely above a whisper. "It's not about Fiona. I just... I have a slight fever. That's all. Nothing to worry about."

She pulled away from my grip gently but firmly, already backing down the corridor away from me. "I should go. Lots to do. You know how it is."

Then she was gone, practically running around the corner with her tray rattling in her shaking hands.

I stood there for a long moment, staring after her and feeling wronged in a way I couldn't quite name. I'd been nothing but kind to Roslyn since she'd come to work for us two years ago. Defended her when other servants had whispered about her plain looks and quiet ways. Treated her like a friend more than a maid.

And she was lying to me. I could feel it in my bones.

But I had too many other problems to chase down one maid's secrets right now. Like the fact that my memories were back and Marcus was gone and my wolf still insisted Lucian was our mate even though I knew, I knew that was wrong.

I needed air. Space. Somewhere to think without people staring at me or asking questions or making assumptions about my love life.

The castle gardens were mostly empty this time of morning, the dew still wet on the grass and flowers. I found a bench tucked away behind a hedge of roses and sat down, pulling out the food I'd stolen from breakfast.

The cheese tasted like nothing. The fruit was too sweet. I ate anyway because my body needed it, even if my mind was too busy spinning to care.

Marcus was gone. Riding back to Shadow Pack and a political marriage with Zara Nightshade. A marriage that should have been ours if I'd just made it to that grove, if someone hadn't attacked me, if my memories hadn't been stolen along with my wolf.

A marriage that was probably happening right now while I sat here eating stolen cheese in a garden.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to push back the tears that wanted to come. Crying wouldn't fix anything. Wouldn't bring Marcus back. Wouldn't undo the damage I'd done when I'd treated him like a stranger.

Wouldn't change the fact that I'd failed him. Again.

Someone cleared their throat beside me.

I looked up to find Lucian standing a few feet away, his brown eyes kind and patient as he gestured to the empty space on the bench.

I nodded, watching as he sat down beside me, leaving a respectful distance between us. We both turned our gazes to the sky, watching clouds drift by in comfortable silence.

It was peaceful. No pressure, no expectations, just two people sitting together in a garden.

"I respect your stance," Lucian said finally, his voice soft.

I looked at him, waiting.

"About choosing Marcus," he continued, still watching the sky. "No matter what happens with the mate bond situation, I understand where you stand."

The admission surprised me. "Thank you."

"I have my suspicions," he said, turning to look at me. "That your wolf is probably confused. The trauma of what happened, losing her for so long, coming back under such extreme circumstances. She might have latched onto the wrong person in her disorientation."

Which made sense. Perfect logical sense.

Except my wolf chose that exact moment to stir inside me, pushing Lucian's image at me again with stubborn certainty. Mate. He's our mate.

I shook my head, both at Lucian and at my wolf's insistence. "For some reason I don't believe that. She's still calling you mate right now, even with everything I know about Marcus and me."

Lucian studied my face with that healer's careful attention. "That doesn't change anything, does it?"

"No." My voice came out firm, formal even. "No matter what my wolf thinks, no matter what bond she believes exists, I will always choose Marcus. Always."

Something shifted in Lucian's expression then. Not hurt exactly, but understanding mixed with resignation.

"Is that why you're here?" I asked. "To talk about the mate bond?"

"Actually, no." He gave me an awkward laugh, running a hand through his dark hair. "Though I wanted you to know where I stood. That I'm not pursuing anything. Your choice is clear."

"Then why are you here?"

Lucian's expression grew serious, all traces of awkwardness disappearing. "I've found a clue. About your attack. About the shadow-lily poison."

My heart stopped, then started again too fast. "What kind of clue?"

"The kind that points to someone close to you. Someone who would have had access to everything about your life, your schedule, your routines." He paused, watching my reaction carefully. "The person who did this wasn't some outside enemy, Chloe. They were someone you trusted."

A chill ran down my spine. My mind immediately went to that memory I'd been pushing away, the one about Fiona that I refused to examine.

No. It couldn't be. I wouldn't let myself think that.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away before it could take shape. "What did you find?"

"I think we need to gather your family first," Lucian said gently. "Your parents need to hear this. It affects everyone."

"Just tell me what you found."

"Chloe—"

"Please." My voice came out desperate. "I need to know."

Lucian looked at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "We should gather everyone. Your parents, anyone of importance." He stood up from the bench. "This revelation needs to be handled carefully."

I stood too, my legs shaky. "What revelation? What d

id you discover?"

"It's not what I discovered," Lucian said, his brown eyes filled with something like sympathy. "It's what Roslyn has to say.”