Chapter 31 The First Soft Light”
Evie:
The next morning, the world felt heavier. But strange as it sounded, I did not.
Something inside me had shifted during the long hours of last night. Not healed. Not strengthened. Just… settled. Like a wound that finally stopped bleeding, even though the ache still lived under my skin.
I dressed simply. I pinned the Luna Crest Helena had given me to my chest and felt absolutely nothing.
Not pride. Not relief. Only weight. A solid heaviness that reminded me of chains more than honour.
Harrow waited outside my chamber door, silent just as he had been every morning since the incident. He did not ask questions. He never did. But I could sense something curled tight inside him, a constant readiness, a silent promise that if something went wrong again, he would not hesitate.
I murmured that I would walk to the Luna Wing on my own. He only nodded.
When we approached the corridor leading toward it, laughter drifted through the archway. Bright and effortless. Normal. Too normal. It hit me harder than any confrontation. My chest tightened with a familiar fatigue.
Not fear.
Just exhaustion.
The kind of weariness grief carves into the bones until even standing feels like too much.
My steps faltered.
Harrow instantly slowed beside me, matching me without question.
"Do you wish to go in?" he asked quietly. His gentle tone almost broke me.
"Not today," I whispered.
He dipped his head in understanding. "Wherever you go, I follow."
So I turned left, toward the gardens. I felt him behind me, present but respectful, protective without smothering, a silent shadow reminding me that I was not entirely alone even when it felt like it.
The Knight estate gardens were always beautiful. A maze of silver leaf trees that stayed pale all year, moss paths soft underfoot, moon-blooming flowers that caught even daylight and reflected it in faint shimmering light. The kind of place carved for peace, where time moved differently, and the world seemed a little kinder.
Today, this garden felt like the only corner of Silverbourne that did not recoil from me.
I let myself breathe for a moment. The air carried a faint sweetness from the moon blossoms and something cool from the stone fountains nearby. My wolf stirred, weary but not unhappy. For the first time in days, I felt a slight loosening inside my chest.
Then a cry pierced the quiet.
"Help."
A child’s voice, thin and scared.
I was running before even thinking. Harrow followed, his boots pounding the moss behind me.
"Somebody help me."
We rounded a bend, and there she was. A tiny girl, four at most, dangling from a low oak branch. Her little legs kicked helplessly, her small fingers slipping.
"I have her," I told Harrow, though he was already moving.
The little girl’s face crumpled when she saw me climbing. "He said I could be brave like him," she sobbed. Her voice wobbled. "But I could not."
"It is all right," I whispered. "Everyone needs help sometimes."
I hooked my arm around her, and she immediately clung to me, clutching my neck like I was the safest thing she had found all day.
When my feet touched the ground, she breathed in a tiny relieved gasp and whispered, "You smell nice."
My heart nearly cracked.
"Isla."
A woman came running, her panic so strong I felt it in the air. When she grabbed her daughter from my arms, Harrow shifted closer, protective but not threatening.
"What did you do to her?" the woman demanded.
"I... I saved her," I said softly.
"Saved her or scared her?" Her tone was accusatory. My wolf bristled underneath my skin at her tone. But i suppressed it.
"Mama, she helped me," Isla protested. "She got me down. She smells like moon flowers. Isaac left me hanging. She saved me."
Then Isla wriggled free from her mother’s arms and ran straight back to me, hugging my legs as if she belonged there.
"Thank you," she whispered again.
And her mother… froze, her face paled, followed by guilt. Recognition slowly dawned on me. She was the same woman who had her children behind her at the Luna Wing.
"Luna Evangeline," she whispered. "I was wrong."
Tears pricked her eyes. "Yesterday, I hid my daughter from you. I judged you. I am very sorry."
I knelt to speak to Isla. "You should always listen to your mother, sweetheart. Mothers worry because they love us."
She nodded with the seriousness only small children can manage. "Okay."
I rose, intending to leave. One apology would not change anything, and I knew better than to expect it to.
"Luna Evangeline."
I turned back. Her name came to me suddenly. Jenna. She looked nervous now, her hands twisting in her apron.
"Would you sit with us?" she asked. "The others will pass this way soon. If they see you with Isla, it might ease things."
She hesitated, then added more softly, "Please let me try to make this right."
Harrow watched her carefully, but he did not stop me.
I stepped closer, slowly, to give her room to change her mind.
She did not.
"I would like that," I said.
Relief softened her shoulders.
She led us to her small workbench. It was cluttered with little pup gloves, half-sewn ribbons, and tiny moon-padded knee guards. The training gear pups wore to protect their knees and elbows during early shift drills. The sight tugged at something warm in my chest, a reminder of my own childhood and how simple training days had once been.
Isla climbed into my lap without hesitation, her tiny fingers playing with the edge of my sleeve.
"You really do smell like moon flowers," she said with absolute seriousness.
I laughed softly. The sound surprised me. It felt strange on my tongue, like a forgotten language.
Jenna watched us with quiet wonder.
"You are nothing like they said," she whispered.
"People say many things," I replied. "Not all of them are true."
She nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. "If the others do not see it, I will tell them myself."
The earnestness in her promise warmed something long frozen inside me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
For the first time since becoming Luna, I felt a small shift in the air. A tiny beginning. A small victory.
Harrow stood a respectful distance behind us, but I sensed his approval in the steady calm of his presence.
And sitting there with Isla in my lap, moon blossoms overhead and soft afternoon light settling around us, I realized something simple and startling.
For the first time in a very long while, I did not feel completely alone.