Chapter 33

Dominic’s POV

The castle wasn’t just quiet, it was the weird kind of quiet that gets in your bones, makes you hyper aware of the stupidest stuff, like the sound of your own lungs working overtime. I should’ve been down the hall, in my room with Mira, playing the loyal partner, right? I promised her. But every time I looked at her, those eyes, wide and innocent in a way that made me want to crawl out of my skin. I felt this off-brand guilt clenching up my chest. And for what? Couldn’t even put a name to it.

And Elora kept crawling into my head, like she set up camp there.

The maids wouldn’t shut up, whispering about her being restless, showing off those ugly marks from the attack. I kept telling myself, Hey, this is just what an Alpha does, checks in on his Luna. Being responsible. Except that doesn’t explain why I’m sneaking along the west wing, my feet basically moving on their own, stopping outside her room like some lovesick idiot.

I hesitated. Because Mira? If she caught me here…hell hath no fury. She already had her radar locked onto anything I did within three feet of Elora. But then, before my brain could stop my hands, knock, knock.

A second later, Elora’s voice, muffled: “Come in.”

Stepped inside, and my shoulders untangled for the first time all week.

Elora was perched by her mirror in this plain robe, hair spilling all over the place like messy ink on parchment. She looked as breakable as glass, but with this stubborn anchored-in-the-storm vibe. Life smacked her around, but she never quite tipped over. I caught her eye in the reflection, saw the cracks in her smile fighting through the exhaustion.

“You’re awake,” I muttered, pulling the door shut behind me.

She gave this tiny, crooked laugh. “Sleep’s not on speaking terms with me lately. Every time I switch position, my ribs give me hell. Really nice.”

I winced, stepping closer. “Don’t think you should be left alone. Not when you’re still...well, busted up.”

She shrugged. “Not exactly a choice, is it? Besides, I’m Luna. Everyone expects me to show up, bruised or not. Council doesn’t pause for my comfort.”

That bitterness is like a paper cut. Sharp and a little raw. “You’ve proved yourself a hundred times over, Elora. Anyone talking otherwise is an idiot.”

She held my gaze for a heartbeat, softened a bit, then tried on a sideways half-smile. “Funny hearing that out of your mouth.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, confused.

She looked away, voice dropping. “Just…I always figured you’d never doubt me. Never needed convincing.”

We sat in that quiet for a minute, but oddly, it didn’t feel awkward. More like a shared memory running between us. I ended up teasing her about tagging after me and Dante back when we were dumb kids, her swaggering down to the training fields, insisting she’d fight as hard as any of us.

Elora snorted, then grinned. “Oh, believe me, I remember. You two hated it.”

“Didn’t hate it,” I confessed. “I just… man, I honestly didn’t know what to do with you. You never let up. Pushed harder than everyone else.”

Her smile faded along the edges. “Guess that’s still true.”

Before I managed to stumble over an answer, the door creaked again.

And there Mira was, standing in the doorway like she owned the place. Nightgown was all dramatic in the candlelight, hair unbrushed in that ‘I totally didn’t care, but really I did’ way. Her expression? All saccharine and sweet, but her eyes, she could cut with those eyes.

“Dominic,” voice honey-dipped and fake. “What are you doing here?”

I went stiff. “Just came to check on Elora. She’s still…you know, recovering.”

Mira sashayed over, stuck her arm in mine, like she was staking a claim for the whole castle. Obvious? “You should be with me. I’ve been waiting.”

Elora stood up really slowly, poker-faced, only a tiny glint in her eyes betraying her. Her words were all clipped and cold. “I’ve got a headache. Why don’t you both let me rest?”

That hit harder than I wanted to admit.

Mira just jutted her chin up, didn’t argue, but damn if she didn’t give me the most self-satisfied look on her way out. Like she just swiped the last word and the whole kingdom with it.

I just stood there, spinning my mental wheels, caught between following Mira and wanting to stay put. I finally glanced back at Elora.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “About that. She shouldn’t have barged in like a bull in a jewelry shop.”

Elora shook her head. “Her choices aren’t on you, Dominic. Don’t waste an apology.”

She was calm about it, but there was this little edge, like she wanted to cut the conversation short before I could start making excuses. Honestly, I wanted to spill it all out, how Mira’s jealous games were starting to choke me. But yeah, I didn't get the chance.

Because, as luck would have it, the door opened again. This time? Just a maid.

She tottered in with a silver tray, could barely keep the thing steady, porcelain teapot rattling like it wanted to bail. Her hands trembled, not the comforting kind, more like she’d just seen a ghost. And her eyes, man, kept darting back and forth, but always landed on me just a beat too long. Unnerving, honestly.

“Tea, my lord… my lady.” You could barely hear her. Tiny bow, eyes down, awkward as hell.

Her nerves crawled under my skin, setting me all prickly. Something was off, but I couldn’t say what, just felt wrong.

She put the tray down between us, then went for the pour. Bad move. Hands shaking, the whole pot went wobbly, and suddenly tea’s shooting out, nearly painting my fingers with boiling water.

Didn’t even have time to yell. Elora launched herself forward. I swear, I’d never seen her move that fast, sick or not. And she just...

Whack!

Slapped the maid, hard enough that the crack echoed.

The teapot thunked down, tea running all over the table, dripping off the edge. The poor maid stumbled, hand flying to her cheek, red blooming beneath her fingers. She looked halfway to fainting.

No one breathed for a second, everything stopped. Like reality glitched.

“Elora...” I managed, voice rasping. But my throat locked up, and nothing came out except half a cough.

Elora was breathing hard, chest heaving, eyes glinting with something I couldn’t pin down. Anger, yeah, but not just that. Fear. Grit. Something tangled up and fierce.

The maid stared at us, crying, voices all shaky: “My lady, I...I didn’t mean...”

But Elora just iced her with that look, voice slicing the air. “You could have burned him.”

Her hand was still shaking from the slap.

Meanwhile, I stood there like a statue, staring at this woman I thought I knew. Feels like the ground’s shifted beneath me. Whatever just happened, it changed things maybe for good. The way I see it, I’m not sure if I should be scared of Elora…

Or scared of her.