Chapter 47 CHAPTER 47
Cindy stood before her closet, her towel wrapped snug around her body as she stared at the neat rows of new clothes. Soft denim, pastel shirts, delicate tops - all perfectly folded, smelling faintly of new fabric and vanilla. She still couldn’t believe they were hers.
She picked a pair of light blue jeans, the fabric smooth beneath her fingers, and a white designer T-shirt with a subtle golden logo at the hem.
When she slipped them on, they hugged her form just right. For the first time in forever, she looked like someone who belonged.
A soft knock came from the door. “Cindy?” Isabel’s voice floated in. “Thomas said your brother’s waiting downstairs.”
Cindy took a deep breath, slipped her feet into a pair of new sandals, and brushed her hair one last time. The staff had styled it earlier -sleek and soft, cascading over her shoulders. Her reflection in the mirror almost startled her. The girl staring back wasn’t the frightened one from Silverpine. She looked stronger, calmer… almost royal.
She made her way downstairs.
At the bottom of the grand staircase, Ethan waited, his arms folded loosely, a small smile tugging at his lips. When he looked up and saw her, his eyes softened, the kind of softness that cracked through years of guarded composure.
“You’re so pretty! You…” He exhaled, taking a slow step forward. “You look just like her.”
Cindy blinked. “who?”
“Our mother.” His voice cracked, threaded with memory. “You’re just as pretty as she was.”
Cindy’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry… I don’t remember her.”
Ethan gestured toward one of the long hallways. “It’s okay, you were just a pup when she…” His voice trailed off.
“Come with me.” He said after recollecting himself.
He led her through the east corridor, where portraits lined the walls - past kings and queens, warriors and healers. Near the end, one portrait stood apart: a woman seated gracefully in a carved chair, her smile soft and proud. Beside her stood a tall man with dark hair and sharp eyes—Ethan’s father. A young Ethan stood in front of him, barely ten years old, with his mother’s hand resting gently on his shoulder. In her arms, wrapped in a white blanket, was a baby.
Cindy’s breath caught.
“That’s you,” Ethan said quietly. “You were only a day old. Mother was still weak, but she insisted on taking this photo. She wanted to remember everything - your first day, your tiny smile, the way your hand fit in hers.”
Cindy reached up, fingertips trembling as they brushed the frame. “She looks so kind.”
“She was,” Ethan said softly. “Both of them were. They loved us more than anything. Mother would never have abandoned you, Cindy. Something happened, something we still don’t understand. But I promise you…” He turned to face her fully, his voice steady and full of quiet fire. “We’ll find the truth. I’ll never stop looking until I know.”
Her eyes burned. “I used to think they didn’t want me. That I was… thrown away.”
Ethan shook his head, jaw tightening. “Never. You were everything to her. To both of them.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence stretched between them, heavy with memory and what-ifs.
Then Ethan exhaled, forcing a smile. “But enough of sadness. Come on. I’ve got another surprise for you. Something I think Mother would have wanted you to see.”
He guided her down another hall, this one quieter, the air faintly perfumed with lavender and age. At the end stood a tall double door, its handles gleaming like moonlight.
He pushed it open.
The room beyond was large and softly lit. Silver curtains framed tall windows, and sunlight poured over a neatly made bed draped in white silk. The faint scent of roses lingered in the air, delicate and nostalgic.
“This,” Ethan said gently, “was their room. The Queen’s Chamber.”
Cindy stepped inside, her gaze moving over the vanity where an old brush still lay beside folded scarves, over a crystal vase that still held dried petals, untouched for years. It felt like stepping into a memory that had been waiting for her.
“I’ve never changed anything,” Ethan said from behind her. “I couldn’t. It felt like erasing her.”
She turned slowly. “It’s beautiful.”
“Come,” he said, nodding toward a door on the right.
The adjoining room opened into a massive walk-in closet, the walls lined with shelves and delicate boxes. Rows of gowns, neatly preserved in protective covers, shimmered under the soft light. On one side were more practical pieces - simple tunics, leather vests, training gear trimmed with silver thread.
Ethan ran his hand along one of the garments, his expression wistful. “Mom used to train in these. She was one of the strongest warriors the pack had before she became Queen. This was her favourite.”
He pulled out a set of fitted training clothes - sleek and elegant, the deep blue fabric embroidered with subtle silver patterns that caught the light.
“She used to say this outfit made her feel closer to the moon,” he murmured. “And I thought… maybe it could bring you strength too. A reminder that she’s still with you.”
Cindy took the outfit gently, fingers tracing the fabric. It felt cool and alive under her touch, like something sacred. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“There’s more,” Ethan said, motioning toward another smaller door.
Inside was a smaller, dimly lit chamber - a jewel room. Glass cases glowed with necklaces, rings, crowns, and bracelets, all neatly arranged. Each piece shimmered softly, their beauty timeless.
Ethan went to one particular box and opened it. Inside lay a delicate silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket.
“This one,” he said, lifting it carefully, “belonged to her. Father gave it to her after you were born.”
He pressed the clasp open. Inside, on one side, was a photo of Cindy as an infant - the same as the one in the portrait. On the other side was young Ethan, smiling shyly beside their parents.
“She wore it every day,” he continued. “And the day we lost them… it broke during the battle. When I found it, I kept it safe. Had it repaired. I think she’d want you to have it now.”
Cindy’s lips parted. “You’re sure?”
He nodded and stepped behind her, gently placing the necklace around her neck. The silver chain rested against her skin, warm and light.
“She would’ve wanted this,” he said softly. “And the jewels in this room - they’re yours too. You don’t have to wear them all, but… they belong to you now.”
Cindy’s throat closed. Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. “Ethan, I…this is too much.”
He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. “No. This is what should’ve been yours all along.”
When the tears began to fall freely, Ethan pulled her into a quiet embrace. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head as she buried her face against his chest.
“I’m just glad you’re home,” he murmured. “I wish I could give you back the years you lost, but from now on, you’ll never have to face anything alone.”
Cindy clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt. Lisa stirred quietly inside her, her voice softer than usual. He’s right, she whispered. We’re home now.
When Cindy finally stepped back, she wiped her eyes, a shaky smile forming. “Thank you, Ethan. For everything.”
He smiled faintly. “You look just like her when you smile like that.”
She laughed through the tears. “Then I’ll smile more often.”
Ethan chuckled. “Good. You’ll need it for what’s next.”
“What’s next?” she asked, puzzled.
He gestured toward the training attire folded over her arm. “Training starts soon. And something tells me Mother would love to see you wearing that.”
Cindy looked down at the outfit again, the silver embroidery glinting in the light. For the first time, she didn’t feel small or misplaced. She felt connected - to her mother, to her brother, to a past that finally had space for her.
As she left the chamber, the necklace warm against her skin, she glanced back at the portrait of their mother.
The painted woman’s eyes seemed to shine a little brighter.