Chapter 22: The Witch’s Lair Approach

(Penny’s POV)

The infirmary became our temporary world.

Genesis healed faster than any human should, stitches dissolving into faint pink lines within days, fever gone by the second morning, color returning to his face like dawn creeping over the mountains. The healers muttered about “alpha resilience” and “Luna influence,” shooting me sidelong glances every time they changed his bandages. I ignored them. I stayed.

We talked in the quiet hours between healer visits and guard rotations. Not about the king. Not about the claim. About small things, his favorite childhood hiding spot in the keep’s old orchards, my worst nursing shift story (the man who swallowed a live goldfish on a dare), the way moonlight looked different in my world (no magic, just streetlights and pollution haze).

He laughed, real, low, unguarded, when I told him about the time I accidentally ordered fifty pizzas instead of five for a hospital potluck. I cried, quiet, ugly tears, when he admitted he’d never let himself dream of a life without the crown until he met me.

We kissed when no one was looking, soft, stolen moments that tasted like hope and goodbye all at once.

But the king waited.

On the fourth day, Torren came.

He stood in the doorway, tall, scarred, expression unreadable.

“The king summons you both. Tonight. The great hall.”

Genesis tensed beside me. “He can wait until I can stand without bleeding.”

“He won’t.” Torren’s voice was flat. “He knows about the witch. The journey. The… bond you’ve formed. He wants it settled before the next full moon.”

I felt Genesis’s hand tighten on mine under the blanket.

“Tell him we’ll be there,” Genesis said. “But she stays beside me. No chains. No cages.”

Torren looked at me, long, assessing.

“She walks in free. She leaves free. Or not at all.”

Torren nodded once. Left.

Genesis exhaled, slow, shaky.

“We have until moonrise.”

I turned to him. “What do we do?”

He met my eyes. “We go. Together.”

We prepared in silence.

Healers helped him dress, dark tunic, leather vest, cloak. He moved stiffly but steadily. I changed into fresh clothes they’d brought, simple gray wool dress, soft boots, the gray fur cloak he’d given me weeks ago. It still smelled like him.

When the sun dipped low, two guards arrived, not to escort, but to support. Genesis leaned on me more than them.

The great hall was packed.

Torches blazed along the walls. Long tables had been pushed back. The throne, massive oak carved with wolves and moons, dominated the far end. King Aldric sat there, silver hair, iron-gray eyes, face carved from the same stone as the mountains. Power rolled off him like heat from a forge.

The hall fell silent when we entered.

Genesis walked straight, head high, arm around my waist like I was the one supporting him.

We stopped before the throne.

Aldric’s gaze slid over his son, lingering on the fresh scars, then settled on me.

“The human.”

“Penny,” Genesis said. Voice steady. “Her name is Penny.”

Aldric’s lip curled. “Names are for equals. She is Luna. Or she is nothing.”

Genesis’s arm tightened around me.

“She is mine,” he said quietly. “Claimed or not.”

A murmur rippled through the hall.

Aldric leaned forward. “You dare speak of claim when you ran from your duty? Took the last hope of our people and dragged her through the wilds like a common fugitive?”

“I took her to save her from Kael. From you.”

The king’s eyes flashed silver. “Kael is dead. You killed him. That makes her mine by right of conquest.”

“No.” Genesis stepped forward, only a half-step, but enough to place himself slightly in front of me. “She belongs to no one. Not you. Not the prophecy. Not the throne.”

The hall held its breath.

Aldric rose slowly. Towering. Ancient.

“Then let her speak.”

All eyes turned to me.

I swallowed. Stepped out from behind Genesis, barely, just enough to be seen.

“I came here by accident,” I said. Voice shaking at first, then steadying. “I didn’t ask to be your Luna. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s salvation. But I’ve seen your people. I’ve seen the dying pups, the fractured packs, the way fear rules everything. I understand why you need this.”

Aldric waited.

“But I won’t be forced,” I continued. “I won’t be claimed because a prophecy says so. Or because you want an heir. Or because you think it will end your wars.”

I looked at Genesis, then back at the king.

“I choose. Not fate. Not you. Me.”

The king’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered in his eyes, curiosity, maybe. Or calculation.

“Then choose, girl. Stay. Bond with my son. Save us. Or leave, and watch us fall.”

Genesis’s hand found mine. Squeezed.

I looked up at him.

His eyes were steady. Soft. Waiting.

I turned back to Aldric.

“I need one more night.”

The king raised a brow.

“One night,” I repeated. “Under the stars. No guards. No walls. Just us. Then I’ll give you my answer.”

Silence.

Then Aldric laughed—low, cold.

“You bargain with a king.”

“I bargain with a father,” I said quietly. “Who loves his son enough to let him choose.”

Aldric studied me.

Then, slowly, he sat back.

“One night. The eastern tower roof. No guards. But if you run…”

“We won’t,” Genesis said.

Aldric waved a hand.

“Take them.”

The guards stepped aside.

Genesis and I walked out, together, under the weight of a hundred stares.

We climbed the tower stairs in silence.

The roof was open, flat stone, low parapet, stars blazing overhead like spilled diamonds.

No guards. Just wind. Just us.

Genesis pulled me close, arms around my waist, chin on my shoulder.

We looked at the stars.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “Whatever you choose…”

I turned in his arms. Looked up at him.

“I choose you,” I said.

His breath caught.

“But not tonight,” I continued. “Not because they’re forcing it. Tonight I just want… us. No prophecy. No king. Just Penny and Genesis.”

He smiled, slow, real, heartbreaking.

“Then that’s what we have.”

We lay on the cloaks they’d left, side by side, hands laced, watching the sky turn.

And under the stars, with no walls between us and the world, I let myself fall completely.

Tomorrow I would answer.

But tonight, tonight was ours.