Chapter 27

Elora’s POV

Well, the order just dropped, sharp as a guillotine, really, and, god, the shame that came after practically burned a hole through my chest. Anger didn’t even get a chance to show up, humiliation just took over. Imagine standing there, I’m supposed to be Luna, the so-called backbone of this pack, wife to a guy who you would think would have my back. But reality flipped its own rules and I’m the one getting shoved out, even though I’m the one who’s been stabbed in the back.

I inhaled slowly in resignation. My pride was there, even if it was buried under a mountain of hurt. For a split second, I pictured just... refusing. Staying right there, maybe yelling the truth until my voice broke. And I could have pulled out the vial stashed in my pocket, solid proof that this whole thing was theater, pure manipulation. But standing in that room with Dominic barking orders, the servants peering down their noses, the maids already trembling with gossip, and the palace basically vibrating with the coming storm, I saw how this played out. Staying would only give them drama. Scandal. Whispered rumors are turning me into some villain by breakfast.

So I left. I mean, what else?

I bowed. Sure, it looked graceful, practiced, even. Inside? It felt like swallowing shards. I spun on my heel. Maids stared wide-eyed, some hanging on my every move. Out in the corridor, the place felt colder, stretched out, and unforgiving. Every person I passed, servants, guards, all those folks who used to respect me, now looked at me like I had just sprouted horns and fangs.

The door shut with a thunk. Through it, Dominic’s voice drifted, soft in a way that made me want to scream, “Stay away from Mira. If she’s hurt, you’re the last person she needs.” Nice. Like a benediction, but for my banishment. That order should have landed on his brother’s head, but he picked a side. He chose her. The woman who could fake her own death just to keep him close. He let her play victim and tossed the Luna to the curb.

My boots slapped too loudly on the tile. Couldn’t help it. I just wanted to get out of there, before my mask shattered completely. It still did, a little. For a second, I let myself be, well, ugly and hurting. Tears came, hot and slow, and damn, that made me even angrier. I wiped them away the way you clean something shameful, a quick swipe, like erasing evidence you were ever weak.

Stopped at the corner. Looked up, and the sky was still there, with its usual indifference, not offering comfort or anything. I wasn’t asking for it anyway. No, I made a promise instead, right then, I’d get to the bottom of this mess. I’d drag Mira’s lies into daylight if it wrecked me. If it meant people whispered, “See, she’s all alone now,” so be it. Luna’s don’t crumble under a hit; we turn sharp as razors.

And off I went.

By the time I got to the garden, the place was empty. Nobody in sight, which was what I wanted. Roses clung to the trellises, heavy-headed, drunk on their own perfume. I wound up beside the fountain, dragging my fingers through chilly water, just so I would feel something solid, because my insides felt like quicksand.

I thought I could keep it together, kind of believed I could just choke down the shame Mira dumped on me back there. Not a chance. The hurt sat under my skin, right where I couldn’t touch it.

Gravel crunched somewhere behind me, Dante, moving with that loose, battle-ready gait of his. His eyes didn’t have their usual edge, though. It looked more like he was carrying the weight for both of us.

“Elora,” he called, soft like he was walking over broken glass, crouching instead of just sitting down like a normal person. “You’ve been dodging me all day.” He caught my eye, staying level, studying my face. “Tell me. What happened?”

I tried, really tried, to play it cool, but my voice just split apart. “She hit herself, Dante. Slapped her own face and cried to Dominic that I was the monster. The maids saw, the guards watched. Dominic...” Swallowed hard. If I looked at him, I’d lose it, so I stared at the roses instead. “He threw me out. Right in front of everyone. Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t believe me.”

Dante’s jaw went tight. Ran his hand through his hair like he might yank out the anger by force. “And you just left?”

“What’d you want me to do?!” The words were tart, defensive. “Pick a fight in front of half the kingdom? Hand Mira the scene she’s dying for? Not gonna feed her circus.”

He settled, eyes softening. “You’re still defending him.”

That one stung. Thunder hidden in plain sight. “He’s my husband,” I admitted, even though it left my mouth like poison. “Even if he acts like he’s forgotten that. Even if…” My throat closed up, drowning whatever else I had left.

Dante let out this, more frustration than breath, and started pacing, not even pretending to hide his agitation. I couldn't help but admire him at that point. “Elora, seriously, don’t do this. You know exactly what she’s up to. Dominic doesn’t see it. The guy’s blind.”

I pretty much glued my eyes to the water, watching these weird, shifting shapes ripple across my face. Anything to avoid him. “He’s not trying to hurt me. He’s just...lost. Tied up between her crap and me, between whatever this bond is and his dad’s crap expectations. I can’t hate him for not knowing what the hell to do.”

Dante barked out a laugh, except it was sharp, and it sure wasn’t funny. “‘Confused?’ Really?” He stepped closer, looming in that way he does, voice getting all gritty, like it might snap. “He downright humiliated you. Right there. With everyone watching. He let Mira twist the story, made you the bad guy, after everything you’ve done to keep this whole mess from falling apart.”

Yeah, so, that one landed. Harder than I’d admit out loud. My chest knotted up for a second. It hurt to breathe.

He crouched down again, close this time, grabbing my hands in his. Warm, strong, a total anchor. His thumb ran over my knuckles. “Elora,” he said, and suddenly his voice was soft, barely clinging together, “do you still want me? After everything?”

My heart just stopped, or maybe it exploded, I can’t even tell. I stared at him, totally caught, because this was it. No walls. Nothing to hide behind. I wanted to deny it, swear up and down I was loyal to Dominic, that oaths meant more than feelings. But the lie wouldn’t come out. It's just. Wouldn’t.

My voice shook. “The bond still calls to me.”