Chapter 80 Right side of the blade
Maureen Lasković
Seems like Vuk actually really kept my illness a secret.
To the entire court, to every whispering noble and every gossiping lady in the Dominion, I had simply been away.
“A month in the southern provinces,” they said. “Visiting what remains of her family lands. Mourning in private. Seeking the quiet of old Laurent soil.”
That was the story Vuk fed them—elegant, believable, safe.
No one knew the truth.
No one knew I had never left the fortress at all.
No one knew I had lain in our bed for weeks, burning with fever so high the healers feared my blood would boil away.
No one knew the coma that swallowed me for three endless months—lost in black nothing, while Vuk sat beside me, fangs bared, pouring drop after drop of his immortal blood down my throat to tether me to life.
He had locked it all behind iron silence.
Only the inner circle knew.
Only the ones he trusted with his life knew how close he had come to losing us both.
And now here I was, back among them, sitting at the head of the solar table in midnight-blue velvet.
They saw a Luna returned from a peaceful journey.
They saw strength.
They saw glow.
They had no idea how thin the veil still was.
“Oh, gorgeous… Luna Maureen, you’re glowing,” Lady Elara said, voice soft with genuine wonder.
She stepped forward and gently lifted my hand, pressing it to her bowed head in the old sign of respect and devotion.
Her dark curls brushed my knuckles.
I let my fingers rest there a moment.
“Thank you, Elara. And thank you all. I’ve read every message, every note of concern you sent while I was away. Your words kept me company. I’m overwhelmed by your kindness.”
They murmured modest denials, eyes bright with curiosity they tried—and failed—to hide.
Lady Mirene leaned forward, older, softer, but no less sharp.
“We heard you went back to your home town. A whole month… we didn’t expect you to stay so long. Gods, I was scared.”
I tilted my head, keeping my tone light, curious.
“Scared? And why, if I may ask?”
A nervous ripple of laughter moved through the circle.
Mirene exchanged glances with the others before answering.
“Oh, you know men,” she said, as though it were the most harmless thing in the world. “We were thinking—”
Lady Seraphina finished for her, blunt and unapologetic.
“We were thinking the Alpha maybe had taken another wife.”
The words landed like a slap.
My pulse kicked hard against my throat, but I kept my face serene.
I let the silence stretch just long enough.
“And why would you think that?”
Seraphina lifted one shoulder.
“Well… you know men.”
The familiar heat rose behind my ribs—fierce, protective, ready to bare teeth.
I swallowed it down.
“My husband isn’t like the rest of the men,” I said quietly. Firmly. “He would never.”
A few nodded quickly, eager to agree.
Others looked away.
Lady Isolde—the eldest, silver-haired, the unofficial leader of this perfumed viper’s nest—leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes gleaming.
“Of course not, Your Highness. But the North is… traditional. An Alpha of Lord Vuk’s power, with the council always pressing for alliances, for heirs…”
She let the words hang, heavy and deliberate.
“A second consort is not unheard of. Practical, even.”
Practical.
I smiled—small, graceful, the one Vuk called my quiet blade.
“The matter is not open for discussion. My mate has chosen. I am his Luna. His only Luna.”
Isolde’s smile tightened, just for a heartbeat.
But she bowed her head.
“Of course.”
We moved on to safer ground—grain stores for the border villages, repairs to the eastern watchtowers, complaints about the new salt tax.
I listened.
I gave measured opinions.
I ordered extra midwives sent north and new granaries built before the deep freeze.
They nodded, scribbled notes, obeyed.
But Isolde kept circling back, subtle as poison.
“Still,” she murmured during a lull, “an Alpha of Lord Vuk’s stature… one never knows when the council might insist on a political marriage. A second consort could—”
“Enough.”
My voice stayed calm, but it carried steel.
Every head turned.
“The matter is closed.”
Silence fell, thick and sudden.
Isolde bowed again.
“Forgive my overreach, Your Highness.”
I let the moment linger, then rose smoothly.
“Thank you all for your concern—and your loyalty. You are dismissed.”
They filed out in a rustle of silk and soft murmurs.
Isolde lingered longest, eyes flicking over me once more before she followed the others.
The door closed.
I exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the moonstone crescent at my throat.
Then the guard stepped inside.
“Your Highness. Lord Cassian Voss requests an audience.”
Ice slid down my spine.
Lord Cassian.
The name alone dragged me back—torchlight, chains, the auction block, the crack of bids rising like knives.
Ten million gold.
A coat draped over my shivering shoulders.
Golden eyes flashing in the shadows.
A whisper in my ear: “This is going to be interesting. I paid ten million for the pleasure of chasing you myself.”
Vuk had claimed me that night.
Torn me from his grasp.
I hadn’t seen Cassian since.
Hadn’t wanted to.
“Send him in,” I said.
My voice sounded steady.
I wasn’t sure it was.
I smoothed my gown.
Touched the moonstone again.
A reminder.
A shield.
The door opened.
Lord Cassian entered first—tall, immaculate in black velvet and silver, rings flashing on every finger.
His smile was polite, sharp, predatory.
He bowed low.
“Your Highness.”
Behind him came a woman.
Long red hair spilled like flame down her back.
Green eyes, sharp and slanted.
Pale skin that seemed almost luminous.
Crimson silk clung to her body like liquid night.
She moved with a predator’s grace, hips swaying, confidence radiating from her in waves.
Her face… it tugged at something deep in my memory.
Familiar, but wrong.
Like a reflection seen in cracked glass.
They both bowed again.
“Please,” I said, gesturing to the chairs across from me. “Sit.”
“Thank you, Luna Maureen,” Cassian murmured, voice smooth as oil over steel.
They sat.
The woman kept her gaze lowered at first.
Then she lifted it.
Our eyes met.
Her gaze was piercing, hungry.
I immediately recognize who she is.
The blind girl from the auction hall—the pale, trembling thing who collapses on the wet tiles in the bathing chamber, chains rattling like broken bells while a guard laughs and kicks her ribs for sport.
The one I haul up by the arm when no one else bothers.
The one whose milky eyes stare through me as she speaks words that still haunt my sleep:
“You carry the moon in your womb… and the flame will devour it. He will break you on the night of the blood moon… and you will crown him with the ashes of heaven.”
I drop her arm like it burns.
Stumble back.
My heart explodes against my ribs.
And now that same girl stands in my solar, completely remade.
Long red hair spills like liquid fire down her back.
Green eyes—sharp, slanted, glowing with an unnatural inner light—make the hairs on my arms rise.
Her body has filled out, curves sharpened, confidence radiating from her in waves that feel predatory.
Crimson silk clings to her like a second skin.
No chains.
No bruises.
No fear.
Cassian’s “niece.”
Now how the hell is the blind oracle slave, Lord Cassian Voss’s niece?
The question slams into me like a fist.
This isn’t possible.
Only a year—maybe only months—have passed since the auction.
I saw her broken, sightless, barely nineteen, sold for two million gold to the same man who tried to buy me for ten million and hunt me like game.
And now she stands here, transformed, claiming kinship with him?
I kept my face calm.
My hands steady on the arms of my chair.
Those eyes weren’t blind anymore.
They weren’t even human.
They were the green of deep marsh water—sharp, slanted, glowing with something ancient and ravenous.
The face was the same… and yet not.
The milky film was gone, replaced by this predatory clarity.
The hair had changed too—once limp and dirty, now long rivers of fire-red silk.
The body had filled out, grown curves that spoke of deliberate seduction.
Now she stood beside him like a favored niece, wrapped in crimson silk, staring at me with eyes she had not been born with.
“So, Lord Cassian,” I said, voice even, “what brings you here?”
He smiled—that sharp, practiced curve of lips that never reached his eyes.
“Your Highness, I come bearing a humble request… and a gift, of sorts.”
He gestured to the woman beside him.
“May I present my niece, Celeste Voss. She has only recently arrived from the western reaches. I have searched inwardly for a proper household to entrust her to—someone of impeccable standing, someone who could guide her in the ways of the North. No one seemed… quite right. Until I thought of you.”
Celeste lowered her gaze demurely, lashes sweeping those unnatural eyes.
“Your Highness… I have heard so much about you. Your kindness. Your strength. It would be my honor to serve in your household… perhaps as a companion, or a personal attendant. Whatever role you deem fitting.”
Companion.
Attendant.
Maid.
The words hung between us like poisoned bait.
I studied them both.
Cassian’s posture was relaxed, almost deferential—too perfect.
Celeste’s smile was small, sweet, utterly false.
I leaned back slightly.
“That is… generous of you, Lord Cassian. But I have no need of additional attendants. My household is well-staffed, and my needs are few. I’m sure you can find a more suitable place for your niece among your own allies.”
Cassian’s smile didn’t falter.
“Of course, Your Highness. I would never wish to impose. I merely thought… after certain past misunderstandings… a gesture of goodwill might be welcome. A quiet way to show my respect for the Luna—and for Lord Vuk.”
The mention of Vuk’s name was deliberate.
A reminder.
A nudge.
“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said.
“But respect is proven through actions, not through placing unknown kin in my private chambers. You will forgive me if I decline.”
Cassian inclined his head, graceful in defeat.
“As you wish, Luna Maureen. We shall not trouble you further.”
He rose.
Celeste rose with him, movements fluid, almost too smooth.
They turned toward the door.
And then Celeste paused.
She turned back slowly, green eyes locking on mine.
“When you pulled me up from the tiles,” she said softly—so softly only I could hear—“you whispered, ‘You’re not alone.’ No one else heard. No one else cared. I never forgot.”
My breath caught.
The bathing chamber.
The fall.
The guard’s kick.
My hand on her arm.
Those exact words—whispered in the dark, meant only for her.
No one else knew.
Cassian had already stepped into the corridor; he didn’t hear.
Celeste’s lips curved—just a fraction.
Not a smile.
A knowing.
I stared at her.
Heart hammering.
She wasn’t just changed.
She remembered.
And she had chosen to remind me now.
I could send her away.
I could have the guards remove them both, report the black magic to Vuk the moment he returned.
He would smell it on her the second he walked in—hellfire and fox essence clinging to her skin like smoke.
Black magic was forbidden in the North; Vuk’s law was absolute.
She would be dead by dawn.
But…
If I sent her away, Cassian would place her elsewhere.
In another house.
Whispering in another ear.
Watching.
Waiting.
A blade aimed at my back—or Vuk’s.
If I kept her here, under my roof, under my watch… I could observe her.
Test her.
Learn what Cassian intended.
And when Vuk scented the corruption—as he inevitably would—he would deal with it.
Decisively.
Control was better than ignorance.
I drew a slow breath.
“Lord Cassian,” I called.
He turned in the doorway, eyebrow raised.
I kept my voice level.
“On second thought… your niece may stay. On a trial basis. As my personal attendant. She will be under constant guard, confined to my wing, no private correspondence or visitors without my express permission. One misstep—and she leaves. Permanently.”
Cassian’s smile returned—slow, satisfied.
“You are most gracious, Your Highness.”
Celeste bowed low, hair spilling forward like blood.
“Thank you, Luna Maureen. I will serve you faithfully.”
They left.
The door closed.
I sat very still, fingers pressed to the moonstone at my throat.
Vuk would smell it the moment he entered these rooms.
And when he did… whatever game Cassian was playing would end in blood.
I only hoped I had chosen the right side of the blade.