Chapter 107 Take care Of The Luna
Celeste:
And how many sips had she taken already? One? Two? Perhaps more. It didn’t matter in the end. The poison did not rely on quantity. It relied on certainty. And certainty… had already been secured.
I did not rush my steps as I approached the Luna’s chambers. The corridor stretched long and polished beneath my feet, the morning light filtering in through high windows, quiet and unsuspecting. There was something almost peaceful about it—the kind of stillness that came just before something broke.
Two guards stood outside her doors, as always. Unmoving. Watchful. Predictable. Their attention shifted the moment I came into view. Recognition flickered first—then confusion.
“Celeste?” one of them spoke, his brows drawing together slightly. “You shouldn’t be up. The Luna—”
“I know,” I said softly, not interrupting so much as guiding the conversation away from where it might lead. My voice carried a faint strain, enough to match the story I had already given them. “I won’t be long. I only came to speak with her… just once. Before I leave.”
The words settled between us. Simple. Harmless. Almost fragile.
They exchanged a brief glance. A silent conversation. Doubt… consideration… then acceptance. One of them turned, raising his hand to knock lightly against the door. The sound was measured, respectful—not urgent enough to alarm, not casual enough to dismiss.
“A maid requests an audience, my lady,” he announced as he pushed the door open partway.
There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to feel natural.
“Let her in.”
The door opened fully. And I stepped inside.
The warmth of the room wrapped around me immediately, soft and quiet, carrying with it the faint scent of herbs and clean linen. Sunlight spilled across the space in gentle streams, touching everything with an almost deceptive calm. For a moment—it looked untouched.
Maureen sat near the bed, her posture relaxed but not entirely at ease. There was a certain heaviness in the way she held herself, something subtle, something most would overlook. But I noticed. I always noticed.
The cup in her hand lifted again. She took another sip.
Three maids occupied the room. Two near the children, their movements slow and careful, their voices hushed as they tended to them. One closer to the Luna herself—attentive, observant. Close enough to witness everything.
I lowered myself immediately. Kneeling. Graceful. My head bowed, my hands resting lightly against the floor. Submission. Gratitude. Respect.
“My lady…” My voice was soft, but clear enough to carry. “I came to thank you.”
The room stilled around me. Not tense. Just attentive.
“You didn’t have to come,” she replied after a moment, her tone calm, though there was a faint thread of weariness beneath it.
“I did,” I answered gently, lifting my gaze just enough to meet hers. “You gave me a place here… when you had no reason to.” A pause followed. Carefully placed. “Even after everything surrounding Cassian… you still allowed me to stay.”
The name lingered. Uncomfortable. Unwelcome. One of the maids shifted slightly where she stood. The reaction was small. But it was there.
“I won’t forget that,” I continued, my voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “No matter where I go.”
Maureen studied me for a moment. There was something in her gaze—something searching, something uncertain—but not enough to change anything. Not enough to stop what had already begun.
“You should rest,” she said finally. “You don’t look well.”
A faint smile touched my lips. Grateful. Measured. “I will.”
I bowed my head once more before rising slowly to my feet. No sudden movements. No urgency. Everything deliberate.
One step back. Then I turned toward the door.
One step. Two—
A sound cut through the quiet. A cough. Soft. Barely there.
I stopped. Turning back immediately, just as anyone else would. “My lady?”
She lifted her hand toward her mouth, her brows drawing together slightly as another cough followed. Sharper this time.
The maid nearest her stepped forward. “Luna?”
The cup in Maureen’s hand trembled. A subtle, almost imperceptible shake—then slipped. It shattered against the floor. The sound cracked through the room, sharp and sudden, splintering the fragile calm.
Maureen’s body jerked forward as another cough tore from her throat—this time wet. Red.
“Luna—!” the maid gasped, rushing to her side.
More blood followed. Too much. Too fast.
The shift was immediate. Panic flooding the room in an instant.
“What’s happening?!” “She’s bleeding—!” “Someone call the doctor—!”
Maureen tried to steady herself, her hand reaching blindly for support—but her strength failed her. She fell.
I was already moving. Catching her before she hit the ground. Her weight collapsed against me, her body trembling, her breath uneven and shallow against my arm.
“Help me,” I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the chaos.
They rushed forward immediately, hands fumbling but eager, assisting me as we guided her carefully back onto the bed. Her chest rose too quickly. Her pulse—erratic beneath my fingers. Perfect.
“Call the Royal Doctor,” I said sharply.
One maid ran without hesitation. Another hovered beside the bed, trembling, unsure where to touch, what to do. The third stood frozen near the door, her face pale with shock.
“Luna… can you hear me?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
No response. Only the sound of strained breathing.
I stepped back slowly. Not too far. Just enough.
Then—I let my balance falter. My shoulder struck the stone statue beside me—and I let the momentum carry through. The sharp edge met my temple. Pain flared instantly. Bright. Clean. Warmth followed. Blood from my temple.
Gasps filled the room. “Celeste!”
I brought my hand up instinctively, pressing against the wound. Blood coated my fingers. Slipped between them.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, my breath uneven now, threading just enough strain through it to make it believable. “Just—go—get the doctor—!”
But I didn’t wait. I turned—and ran.
Out into the corridor. Past the guards who straightened immediately at the sight of me. Past servants who froze mid-step.
“The Luna—!” my voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the calm like a blade. “She’s been poisoned!”
The word spread instantly. Shock. Fear. Movement.
By the time I returned—the room was no longer quiet.
The Royal Doctor had arrived. Already at her side. Working. Focused.
And Vuk—he stood there like something carved from wrath itself. Still. But barely contained.
His eyes snapped to me the moment I entered. Taking in the blood. The state of the room. The chaos.
“What happened?” his voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“The Luna collapsed,” one of the maids spoke quickly. “She drank her tea and then—she started coughing—there was blood—”
His gaze shifted. Slowly. To me. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
“Cassian’s little snake,” he said quietly. “What did you do?”
I met his eyes. Unshaken. “Nothing.”
Silence followed. Tight.
“Alpha,” another maid stepped forward quickly. “Celeste didn’t do anything. We were here. The Luna was already drinking when she came in—”
“And the tea…” another added hesitantly. “We should find out who prepared it…”
The room stilled again.
The question settled heavily into place.
Vuk’s voice came, slow and deliberate. “Who made the tea?”
And just like that—the net tightened.
Voices rose. Overlapping. Certain.
“It was Melinda.” “She prepared it this morning—” “I saw her in the kitchen—”
Truth. Constructed. Perfect.
Vuk turned sharply toward the doctor. “Well?”
The doctor exhaled, his expression grim. “…She’s been poisoned.”
“And fix it.”
A pause. “…I’m not familiar with this toxin,” the doctor admitted.
There it was.
I stepped forward. Ignoring the blood still trailing down my temple. Ignoring the weight of every gaze in the room.
“Alpha… if I may speak.”
His eyes snapped to me.
“I know this poison,” I said calmly. “I can save her.”
“No.” Immediate. Final. “Get another doctor.”
“There isn’t time,” I replied, sharper now, stepping closer to the bed. “By the time another arrives, the poison will have spread too far.”
The doctor hesitated—then nodded slightly. “…She’s right.”
Silence stretched. Heavy.
I lowered myself to my knees. Head bowed. Blood slipping from my fingers onto the floor.
“Please…” My voice softened. Fractured just enough. “Let me save her.”
Seconds passed. Long. Tense.
Then— “…Do it.”
I moved immediately.
“Hold her steady.”
The doctor complied, adjusting his position.
I placed my hand lightly against Maureen’s chest. Closed my eyes.
And began.
The poison responded. Slowly—carefully—I drew it out. Not visibly. Not at first.
Then—a tremor passed through her body. Her breathing hitched.
And I pulled harder.
Darkness gathered beneath my palm. Subtle. Unseen by most. But I felt it.
I guided it. Shifted it. Redirected it—into myself.
Pain lanced through my veins instantly. Sharp. Burning.
I forced it down. Contained it.
Then—I let a fraction slip further. Enough.
My hand dropped. My breath staggered.
The doctor leaned in quickly, checking her pulse—then froze. “…She’s stabilizing.”
Relief flooded the room. Immediate. Overwhelming.
I swayed. My vision blurring slightly.
And then—I collapsed.
The floor met me hard. Distant voices calling my name. But I let them fade.
My lips parted slightly as I forced out the last words. Soft. Weak. Perfect.
“Please…” A breath. Barely there. “Take care of the Luna…”