Chapter 94
LUNA AQUAMARINE’S POV
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I waited for him to shout. For him to slam the table, his eyes burning like they always do when I say something he doesn’t like.
I was ready for his anger, his fists, his mouth, all of it.
Alexander’s eyes shifted. He pulled back and sat in his chair. Like I hadn’t spoken. He lifted the fork again, cutting into the meat, chewing slowly, chewing calmly.
That was worse than the shouting.
My brows creased. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I branded him.”
He didn’t look at me. His eyes slid to Fiona, soft in a way that cut my skin open.
“We’ll continue this in the afternoon,” he told her. “Go back to your chambers.”
Fiona blinked like she hadn’t expected that either, but then her lips curved and she nodded. She stood, graceful, like she was floating. She moved past me, close enough that I caught her scent. Sweet and fiery at the same time.
She stopped. Reached down. Pressed something into my hand. A small jar.
“For your burn, Luna,” she said gently. Her voice had that false kindness in it, too smooth. “I’m really sorry about the soup. I hope it heals quickly.”
Her eyes lingered on mine. She wanted me to believe her.
I forced my hand to close around the jar. My face didn’t move. “Thank you,” I said flatly. Only because I knew her game.
She smiled like she’d already won something and left. For all I know, she might have poisoned
- it.
After all, she once crushed wolfbane and forced me to swallow it.
Alexander didn’t even watch her leave. He ate, slowly, focused. Not once did his eyes come back to me.
The silence stabbed deeper than his words ever could.
I couldn’t sit there. Couldn’t let him act like I was invisible. But wasn’t that what I said I’d do?
Act like I’m not even here?
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Chapter 91
So why am I seeking his attention when he’s clearly not giving any?
I pushed my chair back, the scrape loud in the hall. “I’m done.”
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His eyes drifted to my plate. Still full. But he still didn’t stop me. Didn’t look at me.
The doors opened for me and Clifford followed, quiet as a shadow. He didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, just stayed two steps behind me.
I didn’t go back to my chambers. I went straight to Alexander’s workshop.
The moment I stepped inside, the smell hit me–metal, smoke, oil. The tables were cluttered with blades, spears, bolts, all half–finished. Racks stacked against the walls, drawers stuffed with tools. Heat clung to the air like breath.
I pulled one drawer open, then another. Searching.
I needed a lock. Keys.
Something strong enough to keep him out. Something new he can’t open even if he tries.
He thought he could sneak into my room at night, strip me, change my bandage, and act like I wouldn’t feel it? He thought I didn’t notice the weight on my arm, the way it burned hotter every time he touched it?
Not anymore.
Clifford stood by the door, still silent. Watching me.
My fingers closed around a small lock, smooth and cold. I yanked it out, dropped it on the table, and kept searching for more.
The itch under my bandage flared, sharp, maddening. I wanted to tear it off, just to see.
To see what he was hiding from me. To see why he wrapped it so tight.
To know why it was getting heavier, warmer, like it wasn’t even part of me anymore.
I was bent over the table, setting my materials first.
“How did you end up here?” Clifford’s voice came out calmly.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned my head toward him. His eyes weren’t as sharp as Alexander’s. They were heavy, full of something else–questions.
17:44 Thu, Sep 4
Chapter 94
“You’re his Luna?” he asked. “How?”
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I swallowed hard, looked back down at the drawer, and shoved another keyring aside.
He took a step closer. “What happened to my family?”
The room went tight.
I gripped the table edge until my nails bit wood.
“Why are you not with Clinton?” he asked.
The words dropped between us like stones.
I didn’t breathe.
He waited. His shoulders stiffened but his tone never lifted. But firm enough that I knew he wasn’t going to let it go.
I kept my back to him. My mouth felt dry.
If I told him the truth, what would happen? Would he hate me for it? Would he hate Alexander?
Clinton’s face flashed in my head. His laugh. His lies. The blood at his throat when Alexander ended him.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “You don’t want to know,” I muttered.
“Yes, I do.” Clifford’s voice didn’t shake. “I need to know.”
I turned then, slowly, my chest burning. “And what will you do with the truth? What good will it bring you?”
His jaw tightened. “I was his brother. My blood. My family. I deserve to know why he’s not standing here now. I need to know everything.”
The silence cracked between us.
I looked at him, really looked. His shoulders bent but his eyes were steady. The same eyes that once looked at me with nothing but pity when I was nobody. Now they were demanding, piercing, asking for what I couldn’t give.
I almost said it. The truth balanced on my tongue.
But the memory of Alexander’s voice cut through me. You belong to me. Your loyalty stays
with me.
17:44 Thu, Sep 4 N
Chapter 94
My lips pressed shut.
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Clifford saw it. He saw the way my body tightened, the way my mouth trembled but no words
came out.
“You’re hiding something,” he said quietly.
My throat ached.
He stepped back, lowering his gaze like a servant again.
That should’ve eased me. It didn’t.
I turned back to the table, shoved the lock and keys into my pocket, my hands shaking.
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