Chapter 36 - I'm married to you 

Chapter 36 - I'm married to you 

Selene’s POV

The words flew out of me before I could stop them. “No... he’s Prince Lucian. He’s Theron’s brother.”

Darian froze. The fury that had practically been rolling off of him evaporated, his expression twisting into confusion.

Lucian coughed... deep, wet, painful. Blood hit the floor with a harsh splatter. When he lifted his head, his eyes found Darian’s like they’d been waiting for this moment. “I never signed off on the order,” he said, voice raw. “Never even saw it. They went around me. They knew I’d never allow harm to come to the Blood Moon tree.”

For a second, everything just... stopped. The room was dead silent, the kind that pressed into your ears. The only sounds were Lucian’s labored breathing and the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere far off.

I watched Darian change right in front of me. His posture unraveled... shoulders dropping, jaw going slack. His face twisted, not in anger now, but in dawning realization. I think if I hadn’t still been shaking from everything that had happened, I might have laughed. The look on his face was priceless.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, hard, eyes everywhere but on us. His shirt clung to him with sweat, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other like a boy caught red-handed. “Well,” he muttered, sounding much younger all of a sudden, “that’s… unexpected.” He began pacing tight circles, clearly rattled. “Big misunderstanding,” he said under his breath. “Clearly.”

Lucian didn’t let him off the hook. “So… maybe you’d like to unchain us now?” he said, voice casual, like he was asking for someone to pass the butter.

Darian blinked, like the words took a second to compute. “Gods... yes. Of course! Beta! Get her loose, now!”

His Beta looked almost relieved to have something to do and rushed over. His hands trembled as he worked at the manacles on my wrists. When they finally dropped, I nearly cried with relief. My arms ached, blood rushing back into the numb places. Darian went for Lucian next, but Lucian was already moving... his arms flexed once, and the ropes snapped like threads.

He could’ve broken free the entire time.

That realization hit hard. He’d stayed. Endured all that... for me. For our child.

Darian tried a nervous chuckle, but it died as fast as it started under Lucian’s hard stare. Even bruised and bloodied, Lucian stood tall, radiating something that made the air feel colder.

Darian attempted a weak smile. “I mean… thank the moon for Lycan healing, right? Those’ll be gone by morning, yeah?” He reached out like he was going to pat Lucian on the shoulder.

Lucian just shifted slightly, enough that Darian’s hand fell into empty air. He didn’t even flinch. Just... rejected him.

The smile dropped from Darian’s face. What replaced it was genuine. Tired. Regretful.

“I really am sorry,” he said, voice lower now. “The Crown’s been tightening the screws on us for months. Threats. Pressure. They want our land, and they don’t care who gets crushed in the process. I couldn’t just sit by and let them flood the valley. That tree... it’s not just a tree to us. It’s our history. Our strength.”

I followed his gaze to the door, like I could see it too.

And then it clicked.

The pieces I’d been trying to fit together finally made sense. The idea came fully formed.

I stood, muscles still sore but my mind buzzing. “Maybe,” I said carefully, “you don’t have to fight them head-on. I think I know a way to protect the Blood Moon tree... for good.”

---

Later that night, everything felt unreal. We were back in the palace, in the warm quiet of the solarium. A soft amber glow spilled from the lanterns, casting gentle shadows over the room. It felt impossible that the cold, bloody cellar had been just hours ago.

I dipped a cloth into warm, lavender-scented water and wrung it out. Lucian sat across from me, still and quiet, his eyes shadowed but steady.

I wiped at the dried blood along his temple. My hands shook.

Every bruise, every cut... I couldn’t stop seeing them as marks meant for me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my throat tight. “You left your meeting with Isolde for... that.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“How’d it go?” I asked softly, forcing the words out even though I was afraid of the answer. Did I send him straight back to her?

He raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who insisted I go in the first place?”

My cheeks flamed. “Well… yes, but... ”

He was smirking. Smirking, with a busted lip and one eye half-swollen shut.

“You’re teasing me,” I muttered.

He didn’t deny it.

I folded, flustered. “Isolde begged me, okay? She cornered me. Said it was life or death. I didn’t want to send you, I just... ugh!”

The amusement faded from his face. “Selene,” he said, voice suddenly serious, “you realize what you did, right? My ex shows up and asks you, my wife, to arrange a secret meeting… and you said yes?”

The dam cracked. “Because I saw you!” I burst out, the memory still raw. “A few days ago, outside her office. You were kissing her. Telling her you loved her. I thought… I thought she was who you wanted back. That I was just… in the way.”

He blinked, completely thrown. “Selene,” he said again, this time gently, as his hands cupped my face. “I didn’t go anywhere near her office that day. Not once.”

I frowned. “But I heard you. Your voice. You said, ‘I love you.’ Clear as day.”

Understanding flickered across his face. Then he sighed. “The music box.”

“What?”

“Years ago, I gave her a keepsake... a music box with a dancer inside. You press a little lever underneath, and it plays a tinny recording of me saying, ‘I love you, Isolde.’ That’s what you heard.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he said softly. “And during the meeting, I told her very clearly... no more private talks. No more anything. We're done. Because I’m married to you.”

A rush of relief hit me so hard I almost swayed. My breath caught as the tension that had knotted inside me for days finally started to unravel.

“So… you’re not mad?” I asked, almost afraid to believe it.

His smile was slow, real. “Mad? Little moon,” he said, brushing his thumb over my cheek, “what I saw back there was a very, very strong case of jealousy.”

I gasped. “It was not jealousy!”

But I was laughing, even as I denied it, and he just leaned back with a smug little grin, bruised and battered and infuriatingly pleased with himself.

---

Lucian’s POV

The grand hall was packed, everyone watching in hushed anticipation. Today marked the first trial of the Royal potion Challenge... and Selene’s solution to the Blood Moon tree problem depended on it.

If her potion won, if the blood moon Bloom became a key ingredient in a scent the Crown wanted to mass-produce, the Oak would be untouchable. It would be a protected national resource. Profitable. Sacred. Safe.

Selene and Isolde were sealed in side-by-side glass ateliers at the far end of the hall. Above them, giant screens projected their every move.

I watched Selene’s screen, drawn in. She moved with quiet focus, her touch deliberate, her face calm. She was in her element. Watching her like this made something warm unfurl in my chest. That woman is my wife.

But the minutes ticked by... and she didn’t speed up. She wasn’t rushing. Wasn’t panicking. Just slowly, carefully selecting ingredients, measuring with surgical precision.

Too slowly.

Isolde was a blur of movement, mixing and adjusting nonstop. Another competitor scribbled frantically. Selene still hadn’t assembled a base.

My stomach tightened.

She wasn’t being strategic... she was behind.

Then the chime rang: fifteen minutes left.

Selene jolted like someone had splashed cold water on her face. She looked at the clock, and I saw the panic flood in. Her expression said everything.

She’d lost track of time.

And now she had to race to catch up.