Chapter 18

Elora’s POV

As I sat in the room, I couldn't help but sigh. Mira had been taken into our chambers and I was put out by Dominic. What Luna is Cha sed out of her room?

I could still picture Dominic’s face, hard as old iron, mouth thin when I so much as mentioned how Mira got poisoned. His words were like little knives, slicing into me.

“You want my mate to die, Elora?”

Yeah, sure, pin it on me. Like I had cursed her. Like the universe put me here to watch Mira flail about, wilt away. Absolutely not dramatic at all, right?

Except I couldn’t get the way Mira grabbed her stomach out of my head. Her cries are just a smidge too shrill. Too perfect. Snake behavior. Slinking in, softening up the act so she could wind tighter around him. And it worked. Of course it worked. Now, there she was, tucked up nice and cozy in the chambers. My chambers. The royal doctor said she needed Dominic to watch over her till she got better.

Guess who got the boot? Yeah. Me.

The humiliation burned more than the candlewax dripping off onto a person's body. I wasn’t delusional. I saw the side-eyes in the corridors, and heard the little chit-chat. What’s a Luna worth if she can’t even keep her bed?

My hands balled up so tight in my skirt that I almost tore a seam. This wasn’t just a bruised ego. Something about Mira playing the fragile act set my blood fizzing. That nasty thought slithered into my mind, metallic and poisonous all at once.

And if there was poison? Well, someone put it there.

I needed to find the truth immediately.

So I walked out into the halls, keeping my chin up, pretending the world didn’t feel like it was chewing on me. Pack life buzzed and stomped all around, warriors out there swinging swords, servants bustling with laundry and silver. Inside, though, I was gnawing on doubt.

I rounded a corner and nearly took Dante out at the knees. He locked eyes with me in a sharp gaze.

“You didn’t sleep,” he said.

I yanked a smile into place, thinner than parchment. “Neither did you.”

Dante tilted his head, giving me the look. That look. “You’re crawling out of your skin. Come on, what’s eating you?”

I almost shrugged him off, but the words clawed right out. “Mira,” I muttered.

He tensed. “Yeah? What’s up with her?”

I let out a breath, pitched my voice low so it wouldn’t bounce off the stone. “Her whole sickly maiden routine? It’s too clean. Doesn’t add up. You see it, right?”

He just crossed his arms, a silent dare if I ever saw one. “So you’re saying she’s been poisoned.”

I didn’t blink. “I’m saying she’s working everyone over, but if there’s poison in the mix, then this isn’t just about some jealous Luna squabble. It’s a whole new game.”

He didn’t answer. For a second, I wondered if I had lost him, then he smirked. “There she is. Luna finally decides to get her claws out.”

I straightened up, all pride and fire. “You in, or you just gonna stand there smirking?”

His face went serious, finally. “Always.”

So, off we charged, right into the kitchen. Dante was blazing a path like he owned the place. Pots clanged, the air thick with sweat and steam. People slowed, watched us, but I kept my eyes peeled for anything out of place. Herbs. Jars. Bottles of wine were stacked like a challenge.

“She drank tea last night,” I said. I kept my voice steady. “They brought it up special. I was there.”

Dante flagged down this little kitchen maid, barely old enough to hold a teapot, really, hands shaking all to hell. “What tea did you send Lady Mira?” he snapped.

"Chamomile,” she squeaked. “Helps with sleep.”

“And who brewed it?” I pressed, leaning in maybe a little too close.

The girl’s lip trembled. “I... I... can’t remember.”

Wrong answer. Dante dropped his voice and his gaze, full wolf. “You want someone to die? Think harder.”

She wilted, whispering, “Lydia. Lydia made it.”

Dante and I locked eyes. Lydia. Mira’s little lapdog. Of course.

Way, way too convenient.

We left the kitchens, smoke and thyme clinging to my hair. I couldn’t shake the feeling, like a heartbeat in my throat, someone wanted Mira sick. And the trail… cold, but just starting to warm.

“So… you honestly think she did this to herself?” I shot Dante a look, trying to read that damn poker face of his.

He didn’t bite. Just shrugged, restless, those eyes like shadows. “If Mira wanted attention, faking being weak? Easiest thing in the world. Dominic would hover around her like a lovesick ghost. But poison?” He sucked in a breath, let it go with a twitch of his jaw. “That’s serious. Even for her, that’s a hell of a risk.”

I probably snorted something that wasn’t exactly a laugh. “Pretty good way to play the victim card, though. And if she kicks it? Who do you think gets strung up? Me. The outcast Luna who never wanted to play second fiddle to Dominic’s mistress.”

Dante’s fingers brushed mine, super quick, if I blinked, I would have missed it. “We found the truth. And fast. Before this witch hunt starts.”

So we started sniffing around for Lydia, but she was hiding out in the servants’ wing. Wherever we poked, folks got real jittery. I got a lot of sideways looks and “I ain’t seen her” muttering. No one wanted to talk. The walls practically pressed in.

The whole palace was holding its breath, watching us. Or maybe just watching me, waiting to see if the Luna snapped.

By the time sunlight started dragging across those icy corridors, I was done. Over it. Half-tempted to bust straight into Dominic’s rooms and demand that Lydia be dragged out. But really, what would that get me? The last thing I needed was to fit the stereotype, spiteful, jealous Luna.

Not giving Dominic the satisfaction.

Dante just leaned beside me, chill as ever, which actually annoyed me more. “You’re chewing yourself to bits,” he murmured.

“I’m supposed to,” I shot back, a little sharp. “If someone went after her, someone’s trying to mess with the Alpha’s house. They’re putting us all in the crosshairs.”

He grinned just a bit, and man, I hated how smug he looked. “There you are.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Keep laughing.”

He just shakes his head, softer now. “Not laughing. Admiring.”

Yeah. That word landed heavily. Thicker than blood in the air.

I didn’t get to figure out what to do with that though, because a maid came barreling down the hall, white as a sheet, clutching her apron like a lifeline.

“My lady,” she hissed, peering all glassy-eyed over her shoulder. “Please, you have to come. Right now.”

Dante straightened in a blink, hand sliding to his blade. “What’s going on?”

She glanced at him, then pressed her words out fast and low. “It’s Lady Mira, miss. Please, hurry.”