Chapter 77 I know the feeling
~ Lyra's POV ~
I couldn't tell whether I had fallen asleep naturally or if I had completely passed out from exhaustion. All I knew was that when I finally opened my eyes again, soft morning light was filtering into the room, and a new day had already begun.
“She’s awake,” Kael said from right beside me, and it immediately dawned on me that he must have been watching me even while I slept.
“Good morning,” I greeted him, my cheeks warming as I became aware of the intensity of his gaze fixed on my face.
“Anyone who sees you like this would assume you are innocent, never suspecting the kind of power you possess,” he said, and I frowned slightly at his words.
“Of course I am innocent,” I said quickly, a note of defense slipping into my voice.
He nodded, his lips twitching with something unreadable. “Of course you are. Yet you managed to confuse someone who had seen you clearly and even described you perfectly only days ago. I have been meaning to ask how the boy did not recognize you and Taren when you finally came to my office. What exactly did you do?”
“I was shocked too,” I admitted thoughtfully. “But I think it happened when I was practicing the spell. I said it out loud once before Kaitlyn arrived to tell us that she could not get all the ingredients. I guess just saying the spell aloud was enough to confuse the boy. I’m not completely sure, but that is my theory.”
I paused briefly, recalling how confused I had been yesterday, hoping silently that the boy’s confusion would not end up disrupting whatever plans Kael had carefully set in motion.
“So if you had gotten the complete ingredients, he would have been completely certain that you were not the ones he saw at the archives?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look directly into my face.
“I believe so,” I replied. “The complete spell would have wiped our faces entirely from his memory. That is exactly what the spell book said.”
“You are dangerous,” he said, his expression suddenly serious.
“No, I’m not,” I protested immediately. “I did not hurt anyone.” I trailed off when the truth caught up with me, memories surfacing uninvited. “Well, maybe I hurt a few people, but it was never intentional. I would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
“I am only kidding,” he laughed when he saw how earnestly I was defending myself.
“You said we needed to talk,” I reminded him, letting out a quiet sigh.
“I did?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. “When?”
“Yesterday morning, before you left,” I said. He had been in a hurry then, and I had pushed the thought aside so I would not forget it later.
“Oh, that is right,” he said slowly. “You did not forget?” He looked surprised.
“No,” I answered honestly. “I have been thinking about it all day.” Once I knew someone wanted to talk to me about something important, I rarely found peace until the conversation actually happened. “So what is it you wanted to talk about?”
“I made some inquiries while I was away,” he said carefully. “I received information that your aunt will be buried in two weeks.”
My heart skipped several beats at once. I pushed myself up, resting on my elbow so I could search his face, trying to see if there was even the slightest hint that he might be joking.
“Aunt Mia?” I asked, even though I knew I did not have any other aunt whose burial was approaching.
“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod.
“Oh,” I said quietly, my brows knitting together as my shoulders sagged.
“What is it?” he asked, noticing the change in my expression. “You don't want to attend her funeral anymore?”
“I want to,” I replied. “It’s just that the last time—”
“The last time happened because someone wanted you gone,” he cut in firmly, his expression turning serious once more. “This time will be different. I’ll go with you.”
My eyes widened. “You will?” I asked, barely able to hide my surprise.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I can't risk you going alone. I would lose my mind if anything happened to you.”
Warmth flooded my chest at his words, spreading so deeply that my eyes began to sting with unshed tears.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said, my voice cracking despite my attempt to keep it steady, the weight of my emotions pressing hard against my chest.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, confusion flickering across his features as he searched my face.
“I thought I would never see her again,” I said slowly, my words coming out uneven. “And I don't know. I just feel too many things at the same time right now.” I paused, drawing in a shaky breath as I tried to regain control over my spiraling emotions.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“It’s not your fault,” I shook my head, wiping at my eyes.
“I know,” he replied, his tone heavy. “But I am part of the reason she is no longer alive, so I’m apologizing for that.”
The seriousness in his voice made me look at him more closely, and I saw the unmistakable remorse written plainly on his face.
“Alright,” I said after a moment, nodding slowly. “I forgive you.”
As the words left my mouth, something loosened inside my chest, and I finally allowed the anger I had carried for so long to slip away. A long, weary sigh escaped my lips. “I miss her so much.”
“I know the feeling,” he said quietly. He lowered his head back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I know what it feels like to lose the only family you have before you are ready to let go.”
“Did you lose someone close to you?” I asked, his vulnerability tugging painfully at my heart.
“My mother,” he answered, and the words surprised me more than I expected.
“Oh,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to ask more, but I prepared myself for silence, assuming he would not want to continue. Instead, he surprised me by speaking again.
“She was killed by witches,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with buried pain. “The very ones she sheltered and hid from the war. They turned against her and took her away from me right before my eyes. That was when my hatred for witches was born. I vowed to destroy them all. I hunted the six responsible, found them, and killed them, but it did not ease the hatred. So I poured my pain onto every witch I encountered until I finally understood that every race has both monsters and innocents.”
He paused briefly before continuing. “I left the witches alone after that and focused on rebuilding Ironfang, waiting for the one person who would make me whole again. I never imagined she would come from the very kind I had hated all my life. I forced myself to hate you, even when I realized how deeply you affected me, but how could I truly hate you when you are everything I have been searching for?”
“I’m sorry for what happened to your mother,” I said quietly, deeply moved by his confession. I had always known the suffering was never one sided, that many werewolves had paid a terrible price as well.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, shifting his gaze from the ceiling back to me.
“I know,” I replied, stubborn emotion tightening my throat. “But the ones who did it were my kind, so I am apologizing on their behalf.”
“There is no need,” he said gently. “They are all dead, remember?” A faint smile touched his lips. “And I am wiser now. I know better. Like you said earlier, we did not start this war, but maybe we can end it. I want to end it with you, if you grant me the honor.”
He reached for my hand, his grip firm and grounding.
“We will do it together,” I said, nodding, the idea filling me with unexpected hope.
“Our annual feast is in two days,” he said, still holding my hand. “I wish I could attend it with you by my side, but there are still many things I need to put in place before that can happen.”
“It’s okay,” I said honestly, feeling no disappointment at all. “What is the feast about?” I asked, curiosity stirring.
“It is a celebration of how far we have come as a people,” he explained. “A day to honor our past heroes and remember how much they sacrificed so we could stand where we are today.”
“I have never attended a feast before,” I said, settling fully back against the bed.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “You will attend the next one by my side as my queen.”
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, sealing the promise with quiet certainty.