Bound by a Mother’s Tears

Ember Frost’s POV

When I woke, the pain had subsided, but their words still echoed in my head, Princess. Home. Moon Goddess. I felt that sharp ache in my head again; wincing, I held my head.

“Easy, Princess,” the tall, slender woman said, her voice soft but firm, the same soothing tone I’d heard in my fevered sleep. “The royal doctor warned against overthinking. It will slow your recovery.” She hovered near my bed, hazel eyes kind but piercing.

“Don’t worry,” she added, “I’ve sent for your parents. They’ve been here, waiting while you were unconscious, but Lycan duties called them away. They’ll be back soon.”

Her words tumbled out, warm but unhelpful, dodging the questions clawing at my mind. My head throbbed, a dull ache flaring with each thought. Parents? Lycans? Was Klaus a prince now? How long had I been out since I jumped off that cliff? Why did their words make no sense? “What are you talking about?” I asked, voice hoarse. “How long was I unconscious? What year is it?”

The women around her, maids in yellow robes, giggled, their laughter light, like I’d asked something absurd. “Not long, Your Highness,” one said, her brown hair tucked neatly under a cap. “Just a day since we found you. No need to fret about the year.”

Their answers twisted my confusion tighter, a maze of half-truths. My temples pulsed. “Leave,” I said, clutching my head. “I need space. Please.” They hesitated, but the slender woman nodded, handing me a glass of dark liquid.

“This herb will ease the pain,” she said, her gaze steady. “Drink it. It’ll help you feel better.” She pointed to a blue-threaded pattern on her dress, a Lycan symbol, one I’d seen in my old pack’s house, a symbol of their glory. Only Lycans or their trusted ones wore it. She had no reason to lie to a nobody like me. I swallowed the bitter liquid, grimacing as it burned down my throat.

The women filed out, the slender one dimming the room’s light. “Your eyes aren’t ready for bright light,” she said. “Is this okay?” I nodded, and she offered a faint smile before leaving.

Alone, my thoughts raced, each one a spark igniting my headache. They called me their lost princess, but my adoptive parents weren’t royalty. Were they? Klaus, are my parents coming here? How could I face them after what I’d done? I’d jumped, humiliated the pack, and left them to clean up my mess. Owen’s voice echoed: “You’re useless.” Pathetic. I was weak, a stain on everyone I loved. I didn’t want visitors; I didn't want their pity.

“Princess is awake!” a voice called outside. My heart sank. Had I jinxed it? A soft knock followed. “Come in,” I said, licking my dry lips, nerves twisting my gut.

The door swung open, and a woman stepped in, young and radiant, her grace commanding the room. Her dark hair flowed in waves, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. Something about her felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream. Behind her, another woman urged her forward, patting her shoulder. “Renee, don’t just stand there.”

I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw it wasn't my adoptive parents that came. How would I have faced her? But this woman wasn’t her. Relief mixed with dread. How could I face anyone after what I’d done?

Renee’s eyes locked on mine, reddening instantly. She moved slowly, as if afraid I’d vanish, and grasped my wrist. Her touch was warm and trembling. Tears broke free, streaming down her cheeks, hot against my skin. “My baby girl,” she choked, pulling me into a tight embrace. “My poor child.” Her voice cracked, repeating the words like a prayer.

I froze, overwhelmed. I had imagined meeting my birth parents but never envisioned our reunion this way—maybe a handshake or a stiff nod, but not this.

Her arms were frail, her body so thin I feared she’d break. Yet her hug was fierce, her lavender scent soothing, stirring something deep inside me. Hesitant, I lifted my free hand, patting her back softly. Her sobs shook us both.

“I thought the Moon Goddess punished me,” she whispered, tears soaking my shoulder. "It was my fault and sin to lose you. Why did you have to suffer?” Her voice broke, raw with guilt.

I couldn’t breathe, her pain mirroring my own. I opened my mouth to speak, but she kissed my cheek, hard and desperate. “It’s okay, my child,” she said, pulling back to cradle my face. Her hands turned my head gently, studying me like I was a puzzle she’d lost.

“You’re home now. Mummy and Daddy don’t care what you’ve endured. We’ll protect you, shield you with our lives. We’re never losing you again.” Her words crashed over me, warm but bewildering.

Home? Parents? I’d left my home, my pack, to spare them my shame. “I don’t—” I started, but my voice faltered. How could I explain? I was Ember, the rejected wolf-less human, not their princess. Owen’s rejection still burned. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, wiping her tears, her smile fragile but bright. “You’re here. That’s enough.” She stroked my hair, her touch grounding me despite the chaos in my head.

I glanced at the other woman, her eyes kind. “She’s been waiting for you,” she said softly. “We all have.” The maids stood near the door, their faces soft with relief. Their warmth was real, but it only deepened my confusion. Why did they care about me?

“I’m not a princess,” I said, voice shaking. “I’m Ember. I… I jumped off a cliff. I don’t belong here.” My headache flared, and I winced, gripping the bed.

Renee’s eyes widened, pain flashing across her face. “You belong with us,” she said fiercely. “You’re our daughter, taken away from us. But the Moon Goddess brought you back.” She squeezed my hand, her strength surprising in her frail frame.

My head spun, questions piling up. How was I their daughter? What about my adoptive parents, who’d loved me despite my weakness? Klaus, who’d defended me? Had they known I was Lycan royalty? 

“I need answers,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“You will,” Renee said, her voice steady now. “We’ll tell you everything—your birth, your loss, your return. But rest first. You’re healing.” She brushed a strand of hair from my face, her touch tender, like my adoptive mother’s once was.

Exhaustion hit, my vision blurring. I wanted to argue, to demand clarity, but my body betrayed me. “Okay,” I mumbled, sinking back. The room’s light faded, Renee’s face visible as sleep pulled me under.