48- The Weight of Mourning
POV Lunara Grimwald:
I didn’t get out of bed after Edric left the room. I remained filthy, covered in dirt and blood, as if the smell could remind me, make me relive what had happened.
His death was my fault.
Alessio wanted me, and he would kill anyone who got in the way, whether male, female, or… even pups. Ruda was only eleven years old, nothing more than an innocent boy, just beginning to discover life’s pleasures.
I ignored my starving stomach and the throbbing headache from crying. I ignored the pain on the right side of my body where it had hit the hard ground when I was thrown across it. Once again, the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional.
I stared at the pale moon through the window, admiring how the silvery light illuminated the treetops. I watched it so long that I caught the moment the sky began to lighten, little by little, until the darkness gave way completely.
The silence around Edric’s house, usually so welcome, had become bothersome that day in particular. It echoed death, grief. And for the first time since I arrived in the village, I could feel it vibrating against my skin.
At some point in the morning, Nicoleta came upstairs with a breakfast tray holding eggs, bacon, and black coffee. I tried to eat but couldn’t, so I gave in only to the hot, bitter liquid.
She returned hours later with lunch. She set down the second tray and picked up the first without saying a single word. Again, I ignored the food on the plate.
I admired the birds flying past the window, hopping from branch to branch, flapping their wings at dizzying speed. They seemed so… alive. So different from how I felt.
I lost track of time and space, too focused on the forest animals that served as a distraction the entire day.
I only moved when I noticed the sun had already weakened, revealing that another day had passed. I forced myself to drag my feet out of bed and walk to the bathroom.
My reflection in the mirror was a sad, depressing sight. Purplish bags under my eyes, hollow and sharp cheekbones, a swollen, crumpled, and dirty face, with dark, knotted strands falling around it.
I turned my head and pushed aside the stiff locks clumped with dried blood. There was nothing there, no trace of the wound from the day before. Once again, Edric’s saliva had been quick to heal me.
I stripped off the filthy clothes, throwing them in the corner, as if it were a necessity to rid myself of them after wearing them for so long.
I let the hot water fall over me, relaxing my tense muscles. I looked down at my feet, watching the dark liquid run off, washing away all the grime.
I scrubbed myself several times, until my skin burned and my scalp throbbed. I needed to absorb the floral scent of the beauty products to try to forget the smell of death, of violence.
When I finished my shower, I dragged myself back to the bedroom. I stopped at the doorway, clutching the towel tightly, gasping in surprise.
Nicoleta was bent over the bed, fixing the sheets. She straightened and turned to me, a hand flying to her chest, startled.
“Forgive me, I thought you’d take longer. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I needed to change the bed linens.” A blush spread across her cheeks. “They were dirty with soil.”
I nodded, looking away.
“It’s all right, Nicoleta… I just…” I cleared my throat. She waved her hand dismissively.
“It wasn’t your fault, Miss Lunara. Tragedies happen. I’m sorry you had to witness little Ruda’s death.”
I wanted to protest, to scream that it was my fault, that I could have done more, but I couldn’t. My throat tightened, and tears blurred my vision.
I turned toward the wardrobe, ready to choose something to wear, when I spotted a box on the armchair in the corner. It was white, large, tied with a pink ribbon.
“What’s this?” I asked, walking toward it with unsteady steps. Nicoleta shrugged.
“It was already here when I arrived.”
I inhaled, trying to catch a scent in the air, but the sweet aroma of the cleaning products she had used was so strong I couldn’t smell anything else.
Irritated, I leaned over the box and pulled at the knot, undoing it. I lifted the lid and frowned at the white fabric inside.
“It’s a dress,” I revealed, running my fingertips over the satin. “A white dress.”
She blinked, astonished.
“It must have been Mr. Edric. Today, during the ceremony, everyone must wear white.”
“But why white?”
In my old pack, death was considered just a passage. It was treated simply and almost dismissively.
“Because white symbolizes purity, spirituality, and the passage to another world. For us, death and mourning are not an absolute end, but a stage of transition to a new existence. And wearing white at a funeral is like a promise of eternal life to the deceased.”
A weight pressed on my chest, and I forced myself to breathe deeply.
Edric had, as always, left this information out, but at least he patched things up this time by sending me the proper outfit to wear. I was tired of embarrassing myself before his pack by not knowing their customs.
“Thank you for explaining,” I murmured, picking up the box. “It was… kind of Edric to send me the right clothes.”
Nicoleta smiled proudly.
I walked toward the bathroom with the box in hand, but froze when I heard shouting. I sharpened my hearing. It was a female voice. Thalira’s voice, apparently protesting some order Edric had given.
“What’s that?” I whispered aloud.
“Mr. Edric already gave strict orders for Miss Thalira not to come here again, but she disobeyed and came to the house this afternoon.”
Hearing that bitch’s name made me sick. My wolf stirred, after hours of quiet mourning for Ruda, at the mention of her.
I let out a sharp laugh.
“As if Edric has any control over her,” I mocked. Nicoleta drew in a deep breath.
“Miss Thalira is a little… invasive at times, but the only one who can still restrain her is Mr. Edric.”
I turned to her, raising a brow.
“If that were true, she wouldn’t be coming to his house after being expressly forbidden.”