Chapter Three

Instead of going straight to the small guest room, my feet moved on their own, carrying me down the quiet hallway toward the glasshouse in the east wing.

This was the private herb room Mother and I had built together when I was ten.

It had been our place.

Whenever her illness flared up, we would spend hours here making natural tea remedies and tending to her favorite plants. Mother had taught me which leaves eased her headaches, which flowers helped her sleep, and how to recognize when her breathing was about to worsen.

Some of my happiest memories of her lived inside these walls.

I had lost my bedroom without much thought. That room had only been a room.

But this place was different. This was where I had been a daughter.

A small, foolish part of me hoped that after everything else had been taken from me, this one sanctuary had remained untouched.

I gently pushed the wooden doors open.

The soothing scent of crushed lavender and wet soil was completely gone. Instead, the sharp smell of fresh oil paint and turpentine hit my nose.

I stopped breathing for a moment.

The wooden shelves where we used to keep glass jars of dried herbs were gone. The old wooden table where Mother and I had spent countless afternoons was nowhere to be seen. Even the little ceramic pots I had painted for her when I was twelve had disappeared.

Blank canvases, wooden easels, and messy tubes of paint stood in their place.

Every single thing that belonged to me had been cleared out. Not moved. Erased.

The whole family had simply decided to turn our private haven into an art studio for Sienna.

I stood in the doorway, staring at the painted canvases.

A heavy, hollow pain settled in my chest.

Losing this hurt far more than losing a bedroom because this room had been proof that I once had a place in Mother's heart. Every shelf, every plant, every worn wooden surface had carried fifteen years of memories between us.

Now there was nothing left.

Not even a trace that I had ever belonged here.

"Elora?"

I turned around slowly.

Dorian was standing behind me.

When he looked past me into the art room, his eyes widened slightly. A quick flash of guilt passed across his face.

He had completely forgotten that this place used to mean everything to us.

"I... Elora," Dorian started, stumbling over his words. "Sienna needed a bright space for her painting, so the family thought it was best to give her this room..."

"Dorian! There you are. I was looking for—"

Sienna’s sweet voice cut off as she walked down the hall. She stopped when she saw the two of us standing outside the open door.

Her eyes moved from Dorian to me, and then to the art supplies inside.

A quiet realization seemed to hit her.

"Oh..." Sienna took a small step back, her eyes filling with delicate tears.

"Dorian, is this…yes! It's the same room Elora used to use with Mother for plants?"

She looked between us, her fingers slowly twisting together. 

"Oh my word! I didn't realize she would still care about this place so much," Sienna said softly. Her voice trembled.

"If I had known, I would never have asked to use it for my art studio."

She lowered her gaze toward the floor.

"I'm sorry, Elora. I really am. I can pack everything up and give the room back to you right now."

It sounded like an apology. It even looked like one. But somehow, the choice had been placed in my hands.

If I accepted the room, I would become the sister taking something away from Sienna.

If I refused, then I was the one choosing to let go.

I looked at her, my face completely expressionless. "You don't need to pack anything. I don't care about this room anymore."

Sienna bit her lip and lowered her head, looking wounded.

"I only wanted somewhere to paint," she murmured. "I didn't mean to take something that was important to you."

Seeing his precious sister look so hurt by my blunt response, Dorian’s brief guilt vanished instantly, replaced by sharp irritation.

"Elora, watch your attitude!" Dorian snapped, stepping in front of Sienna defensively. "She’s being nice enough to offer the room back, and you're standing there acting like a cold robot! Can't you just accept an apology without acting so bitter?"

I looked at Dorian, unbothered by his anger.

"I am not being bitter, Alpha Dorian," I said, my voice completely flat and steady. "I don't want the room back, nor do I want any compensation for it."

Dorian scowled, clearly thinking I was just throwing a dramatic tantrum. "Stop talking nonsense. You're just upset because things aren't about you anymore. You'll get over it."

I met his gaze directly, my eyes dull and unreadable.

"I only returned to this house to make sure Mother's health is stable," I said, speaking each word slowly and clearly. "Once I know she is fine, I am leaving the family for good. I have no plans to stay here, Alpha Dorian."

Dorian froze.

The angry words died right in his throat as he stared at me in disbelief.