Chapter 162 CHAPTER 162
Evening settled over Red Valley like a gentle hand.
The sun slipped behind the hills, leaving the sky painted in soft golds and deepening blues, and the air cooled just enough to make the fires welcome. Smoke curled lazily upward from hearths scattered across the village, carrying the scent of wood, herbs, and something rich simmering in pots.
Lisa, Isabel, and Celine had been drawn into the rhythm of it without realizing when it happened.
They moved among the women easily, passing bowls, rinsing vegetables at the spring, laughing when Isabel fumbled with a bundle of firewood that was clearly heavier than she expected. No one scolded her. Someone simply took half the load, smiling, and showed her how to stack it properly beside the earthen hearth.
Isabel loved it.
She crouched near the fire now, eyes bright as she coaxed the flames higher with careful hands, listening intently as the older women talked about cooking times and the way the wind changed the taste of food. The pot hanging above the hearth bubbled steadily, steam rising and warming her face.
“This is amazing,” Isabel said softly, grinning. “I’ve never cooked like this before.”
Celine chuckled, handing her a wooden spoon. “Careful. They might recruit you permanently.”
Lisa watched them with a small smile, sleeves rolled up as she shelled beans into a wide bowl. The work was simple, grounding. No titles. No expectations. Just hands and fire and shared space.
Among the women sat Alpha Reed’s wife, Luna Irene.
She was composed in the way of someone used to being observed, her posture straight even as she worked, dark hair pulled back neatly. Her eyes moved often, sharp and assessing, lingering longer on Lisa and Isabel than strictly necessary.
After a while, she spoke.
“So,” Irene said, her tone polite but edged with something harder, “you are human, Isabel. How does it feel, living in the palace surrounded by wolves?”
The chatter around the fire softened.
Isabel glanced up, surprised, but she didn’t bristle. She thought for a moment before answering.
“It’s all right,” she said honestly. “Better than all right, actually. I thought I’d be scared. At first, I couldn’t let Lisa out of my sight - I kept waiting for something to go wrong. But then I realized there are rules. Everyone follows them. I was safe.”
She smiled, a little shy now. “And people were kind. No one treated me like I didn’t belong. Mooncrest feels like home to me now.”
Irene’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It’s rare,” she said slowly, looking between Lisa and Isabel, “to find friendships like yours. More often than not, these kinds of bonds end in disaster.”
Lisa’s hands stilled.
Irene continued, her voice deceptively light. “I just hope your friendship doesn’t lead your kingdom into a bloodbath like the one we had seventeen years ago.”
The fire crackled loudly.
Lisa looked up, confused. Isabel turned toward her, brows knitting together. Celine straightened slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.
“A bloodbath?” Celine asked. “What does that have to do with their friendship?”
For a fraction of a second, Irene looked as though she had said too much.
“Oh,” she laughed softly, waving a hand. “Nothing. Truly. You must have misunderstood me. You were all children back then - how could it have anything to do with you?”
Her laugh came a bit too fast, a bit too sharp. “How are you finding Red Valley so far?” she added quickly, changing the subject with practiced ease.
Lisa hesitated. She had questions - many of them - but she felt the shift around the fire. The women had gone quiet, eyes lowered, hands busier than necessary.
She let it go.
“It’s beautiful,” Lisa said instead, her tone warm. “The land, the people. It’s wonderful to see how much the valley provides for you all.”
A ripple of relief passed through the group.
“Yes,” Isabel chimed in brightly, unaware of the tension she was easing. “Drinking water straight from the spring, picking vegetables from the garden—it feels… real. We should plant a garden when we get home.”
Irene glanced at her sideways, thoughtful. Home, she repeated silently.
“That would be lovely,” Lisa said, smiling. “Luna Irene could lend us some seedlings from her garden.”
“Of course,” Irene replied smoothly. “Anything for you, Princess.”
The smile she offered was perfect - and hollow.
One of the older women cleared her throat. “Queen Helena used to carry seedlings from here every time she visited,” she said, her voice gentle but deliberate. “Mooncrest was full of gardens back then.”
Lisa’s face softened. “I’ve heard that.”
“She would help us during planting season,” the woman continued. “She was easy to get along with. Kind. Just like you.”
As she said it, her gaze flicked briefly to Irene - a quiet, unmistakable warning.
Lisa swallowed. “Everyone tells me how wonderful my mother was. I just wish I’d met her.”
“I can take you to the tree she planted,” the woman offered quickly. “It’s grown into a great canopy now. You’d love it.”
Irene shifted. “The last time your mother was here,” she said coolly, “she was pregnant with you. She brought a friend along.”
Lisa blinked. “A friend? I’ve never heard of her friends. Was it elder Lora?”
“No,” Irene said. “Someone else. I don’t recall who.”
She paused, then added, “That was shortly before the fire at Mooncrest. The one where we lost her.”
Her voice dipped, feigning sorrow, but the message was clear.
Before Irene could continue, one of the older women shifted closer to the fire and spoke.
“Yes,” she said gently, but with intention. “I remember that visit.”
Irene’s head turned slightly.
The woman met her gaze, calm and steady, and for a brief moment the air between them tightened. It was not defiance, exactly - but it was not obedience either.
“She was glowing,” the woman continued, her voice warm as she looked back at Lisa. “She kept resting her hands on her belly, talking to you as if you could already hear her.”
Lisa’s breath caught.
“She said she would bring you here one day,” the woman went on. “She said you would love the valley. That you would run under the tree she planted and sit in its shade.”
Irene’s lips pressed together.
The woman glanced at her once more - brief, unmistakable - before returning her attention fully to Lisa. “She planted it with her own hands. Said it would grow alongside you.”
Lisa felt warmth bloom in her chest, even as confusion tugged at her thoughts. Her eyes flicked briefly to Irene, then back to the woman. A friend. A fire. A tree. The pieces didn’t fit, but they were all being offered at once.
She opened her mouth to ask…
But before she could respond, a woman stood and announced that dinner was ready. Bowls were passed, food ladled, and the tension dissolved into motion. Someone asked Lisa and Isabel if they would join the men at the tables.
By the time they reached the tables, the men were already gathering, conversation low and relaxed. Alpha Reed looked up as the first dishes were placed down and smiled.
“It seems dinner has arrived,” he said.
Ethan inhaled deeply, amused. “It smells incredible. After the feast we had earlier I thought I’d be fulI. But after smelling the food I’m suddenly hungry again.”
A few laughs followed.
Lisa took a seat beside Liam as bowls were set before them. He glanced at her, eyes soft, voice lowered just enough that only she could hear.
“You look like you had fun.”
She smiled, warmth spreading across her face. “I did. Cooking like that, with the women… it felt simple. Real. I haven’t done something like that in a long time.”
Liam’s expression gentled. “I’m glad.”
She leaned slightly closer. “It felt like being part of something. Not a guest. Not a princess. Just… there.”
He nodded, brushing his thumb lightly against her hand beneath the table before letting it go.
Around them, conversation flowed easily. Isabel animatedly described nearly setting her sleeve on fire, earning laughter from Ethan and Celine. The food was passed, bowls emptied, refilled, shared.
For a while, nothing felt heavy.
The fire crackled. The stars crept higher overhead. Red Valley ate together, as it always had.
And when the meal finally ended, when laughter faded into quieter murmurs and people began drifting back to their homes, the sense of belonging lingered - gentle, fragile, and real.
Later, the room given to the girls was quiet and warm, lit by a single lamp. Three beds stood neatly arranged, blankets thick and inviting. Outside, the sounds of Red Valley softened into night.
Lisa sat on her bed, unpinning her hair. Isabel wandered the room, touching the wooden carvings with fascination. Celine sat cross-legged, thoughtful.
“Today was good,” Lisa said finally. “Even with… everything.”
Isabel nodded. “It’s beautiful here. The people, the land. It feels honest.”
She hesitated. “Except for Luna Irene.”
Celine looked up. “I thought so too.”
Lisa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“When she talked about your friendship,” Celine said. “And linked it to what happened seventeen years ago. That wasn’t accidental.”
Isabel hugged a pillow to her chest. “She knows something. She doesn’t want to say it - but she wants us to feel it.”
“I don’t think she dislikes me because I’m human,” Isabel added. “It felt… personal.”
Lisa stared at the floor. “Do you think it has something to do with the fire?”
“Maybe,” Celine said. “Do you think there’s more to what happened back then?”
“Probably,” Lisa admitted. “I don’t think it’s something they want to talk about.”
“Should we ask Irene directly? She seemed like she wanted us to know.” Celine said.
Lisa considered it for a long moment.
“I’m not sure,” she said finally, her voice low. “I don’t know if it’s something I want to know.”
Isabel turned onto her side to face her. “Why?”
Lisa hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around the blanket. “What if I don’t like what I find out?” she asked softly. “What if I end up hating my mother for it?”
The words surprised even her as she spoke them.
“Luna Irene kept hinting at something,” Lisa went on. “A friendship. The fire. My mother. I don’t know how they all connect, but… what if the truth changes how I see her? What if it changes how I see myself?”
Celine sat up a little straighter, watching her carefully but not interrupting.
“All I’ve been hearing since I arrived at Mooncrest is how good she was,” Lisa continued. “How kind. How brave. That image feels safe. I don’t know if I’m ready to touch whatever’s behind it.”
The room fell quiet.
Not the heavy kind of silence, but the thoughtful kind—where no one rushes to fill the space because the moment deserves to breathe.
Lisa lay back slowly, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of Red Valley settling into sleep beyond the walls. She felt pulled in two directions at once. One part of her wanted answers, wanted to understand the past that kept brushing against her present. Another part of her wanted to protect the fragile peace she’d finally found, the simple certainty of who she was becoming.
Curiosity tugged at her.
Fear held her still.
She closed her eyes, caught between wanting to know and wanting to remain untouched by whatever truth waited beyond the silence.
Tomorrow, perhaps, she would choose.
For now, she let the questions rest beside her, unspoken, as the night carried Red Valley into darkness - and held its secrets just out of reach.