Chapter 105 105
Amarien's POV
The corridors of Theron's palace were never truly dark.
Still, I moved like a shadow among them, so as not to cause a stir. Everyone should have been asleep last night. There was enough party and debauchery to keep people tired this night, so no one would know that I had sneaked out or was sneaking in.
Tonight, I only wanted my chambers. My bed. A few hours where no one watched me, touched me, or reminded me of what I had lost.
My child.
The thought was a knife I had grown used to carrying in my ribs.
I pushed open the door to my chambers slowly, praying the hinges would be kind.
Darkness greeted me.
Good.
I stepped in, easing the door shut behind me. My shoulders loosened a fraction. The room smelled faintly of cedar, and the blue-lily oils the maids insisted on using. I preferred the scent of my child, but it's long gone now.
The curtains were drawn; the moonlight barely slipped through.
I had just taken two steps forward when…
One of the candles lit.
I clung to my robe, startled, and a gasp almost escaped me when I saw him.
Theron sat in the armchair near the hearth like a king in a tale meant to frighten children. One leg crossed over the other, chin resting lazily on his knuckles, icy blue eyes fixed on me with sharp amusement.
He had been there the whole time.
Waiting.
"Well," he drawled ", my Luna returns."
"You startled me." I managed to sound less apprehensive.
"I didn't mean to, my lady," he said lightly. "But you walk like someone with something to hide."
Maybe I did.
I straightened, schooling my face into calm. "Why are you sitting in the dark like a lurking beast?"
His lips curved. "Because lurking beasts get the most honest reactions."
His gaze dragged over me, my cloak, my hair slightly loosened by the night wind, the faint flush on my cheeks from the cold outside.
"Where did you go?" he asked.
I looked away, unfastening my cloak, avoiding his eyes. "Nowhere important."
Theron said nothing.
That silence of his was never empty. It prowled.
"I needed air," I added. "The palace was suffocating."
"Hm."
I moved toward the vanity, pretending to fuss with a hairpin. "I also went to gather blue roses for the moon festival."
Silence settled, as if Theron were assessing my words, scrutinising them.
I felt his stare like a hand at my throat.
"Blue roses," he repeated softly.
"Yes.”
The chair creaked.
He stood.
I did not turn, but I heard his measured steps closing the distance. He reached me and gently took my wrist before I could pull away.
He lifted my arm slightly, examining it.
"No thorns," he noted.
My stomach tightened.
"Blue rose bushes are cruel things," he continued conversationally. "They bite anyone who touches them. Yet your pretty hands are unmarked."
I tugged my arm back. "Perhaps I was careful."
Theron's smirk deepened. "Perhaps you think I am blind."
I met his eyes then, refusing to look guilty even if I was. "Must I report every breath I take to you?"
"No," he said calmly. "Only the interesting ones."
There was a flicker there, curiosity, suspicion, something sharper. But he did not press.
Instead, he reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from my face.
"You sneak out at night," he murmured, "and you won't even tell me where. Shouldn't I be offended?"
"You should be occupied elsewhere," I replied coolly.
He gave a low chuckle.
Before I could step away, his hand slid to the back of my neck, and he leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss.
I had grown accustomed to his kisses. They were warm, insistent, tasting faintly of wine and something wild like pine smoke. Once, perhaps, I would have reacted flushed, startled, alive.
Now I felt… nothing.
My heart did not race. My breath did not hitch.
I was dead inside, and he knew it.
I did not kiss him back. I did not push him either. I simply endured until he pulled away, searching my face.
His brows lifted slightly.
"You kiss like a statue," he observed.
"Maybe I'm one. I feel my heart is made of stone," I said, hoping I don't feel those words. I could burst out crying.
He studied me a moment longer, then said, "You know you are my Luna now." He ran his hands through my hair, but I shook my head.
"I agreed to be your Luna, Theron. Not your plaything."
His eyes glinted.
"I'm not your wife, nor am I part of your harem," I continued, voice steady. "And I never will be."
For a heartbeat, something darker crossed his expression.
"Never?" He tasted the word like it had no meaning.
Then his face melted into amusement.
He stepped closer, backing me subtly against the vanity, one arm braced beside me.
"You say that," he murmured, "like you think the two cannot overlap."
"They cannot," I replied flatly.
His fingers slid to my waist, grip tightening just enough to remind me of his strength.
"You belong to me," he said with quiet certainty. "The kingdom knows it. The wolves know it. Even your enemies know it."
His thumb pressed slightly into my side. "And I will make it reality in every way that matters."
I looked up at him, meeting that icy gaze without flinching.
"You may own my title," I said. "You will never own me."
Theron's gaze remained unreadable, piercing and powerful.
I used that moment to slip from his hold. His fingers lingered but did not cage me.
I walked past him toward the door to my inner chambers.
He did not stop me.
But I felt his eyes on my back like a brand.
"Run along then, little Luna," he called lazily. "But remember…every path in this palace eventually circles back to me, including that little bed you'll sleep on tonight."
I paused at the doorway but did not turn.
I had no other words for Theron, not after what I did tonight.
And with that, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
Only when I was alone did my mask crack.
My hand drifted to my stomach out of habit.
Empty.
Always empty.
Theron thought he was waiting for me to become his.
He did not know.
There was nothing left in me to belong to anyone.
"My baby", I muttered as I crumbled to the floor and cried.