CHAPTER 10 — THE LETTER MY MOTHER LEFT FOR DARIUS

“Your mother was involved in something long before you were born.”

Darius’s words hung over me as we left the archive. I barely registered the guards or the servants—my mind was stuck on that record, on my mother’s name under the crescent moon, and the fear I’d caught in Darius’s eyes.

She’d been gone twenty-two years. What could she possibly have done that still made powerful families so desperate to hide it?

“Where are we going?” I asked. Darius glanced over his shoulder at me.

“Somewhere we can talk. Alone.”

“Should I be worried?”

He gave me a half-smile. “You should always be worried when someone tells you not to ask questions.”

Honestly, I almost smiled at that, then remembered his face in the archive—the way he looked at me. He’d seen something I hadn’t.

“You know more than you’re letting on.”

“Yes.”

That simple honesty caught me off guard. I expected another vague answer, something to push me away from the truth. Instead, Darius opened a narrow door at the end of the corridor.

“Come in, Seren.”

I hesitated. He noticed.

“You don’t have to.”

That unsettled me more than being ordered inside. Still, I stepped in.

The room was small and dim, filled with dark wooden shelves, a cold fireplace, papers everywhere on the desk. It smelled old—dust, leather, and the cedar scent that always clung to Darius.

He closed the door, but left it unlocked. I noticed.

“You said your father knew my mother,” I started. “Now you’re dragging me in here. What aren’t you telling me?”

Darius moved to the desk.

“Before my father died, he gave me something.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a narrow wooden box.

“I was seventeen. He told me not to open it unless I saw the crescent symbol again.”

My stomach twisted.

“And you did?”

“The night I saw the ring.”

He set the box on the desk, just staring at it for a moment.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know what was inside.”

“But you guessed it had to do with my mother.”

“I suspected.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re good at making secrets sound reasonable.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

“Good. Because I haven’t decided if you deserve it.”

Something flickered across his face—pain maybe—but it vanished before I could pin it down.

He opened the box. Inside was a folded letter, yellowed with age, sealed with deep red wax.

My breath caught. I recognized that handwriting: the elegant curves, the slight slant, the way the last letters trailed off. I’d seen it once before, in the scraps my father kept.

My knees went weak.

“No.”

Darius looked at me. “Seren?”

I reached for the letter, stopped just shy of touching it. It didn’t feel real. My mother always lived in pieces—a faded portrait, her name whispered by servants, a handful of stories that never matched up.

No voice. No hand in mine. No explanation for why she left me.

And now, after dying and coming back to a life that barely felt like mine, here was a letter she’d written.

Left for Darius.

“May I?” I whispered.

He nodded.

My fingers shook as I lifted it. The seal was already broken, but the paper was whole. I unfolded it carefully.

First line blurred through tears.

To the son of the man who promised to protect my daughter,

I pressed my lips together. My mother trusted Darius’s father. Trusted him enough to leave something with him.

I pushed myself to keep reading.

If this letter has reached you, then the crescent has appeared again. It means the old families have begun moving, and my attempts to keep Seren beyond their reach may have failed.

My heartbeat thundered.

You may be tempted to tell yourself this is only a political struggle. Do not make that mistake. There are people who call their cruelty duty, their control protection, their greed tradition. They’ll offer you peace if you surrender the right to choose.

These lines weren’t warning about one person. They felt like she wanted to warn me about the whole world.

Then the next—

Never trust the silver crown.

Suddenly, the room felt colder.

Velara. I saw her in my mind next to Lucian at my execution, silver crown on her head, calm as the blade fell.

I spent three years believing she stood for everything right in our kingdom.

But my mother had warned about her symbol—before I was even born.

“Darius.”

He was watching me.

“Who wears the silver crown?”

He hesitated. “You know who.”

“Lady Velara.”

“Yes.”

“Did your father know?”

“I don’t know.”

I looked at the letter again. My hands shook. There was more writing, but the page ended sharply. Another sheet folded behind it.

I separated the pages. Darius went still.

“What?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

I looked at the second page—same handwriting.

But the first sentence knocked the air out of me.

If Seren ever returns, Darius must kill her before the Hollow Moon finds her.

I read it once. Again. But the words stayed the same.

Darius must kill her.

I lowered the page, suddenly deaf to everything: wind, fireplace, even my own heartbeat.

I looked at Darius.

He didn’t seem shocked. He didn’t seem lost. He looked like someone expecting a punishment.

“You knew.”

My voice sounded strange.

Darius said nothing.

“You knew my mother wrote this.”

“Yes.”

“And you kept it from me.”

“Yes.”

I laughed, but it sounded brittle.

“Of course you did.”

“Seren—”

“No.” I held up the letter. “Don’t say my name. It doesn’t make this better.”

He stopped talking.

I stared at my mother’s words. She’d left me nothing to remember: no lullaby, no embrace, nowhere her voice lived on. Only instructions.

Instructions for the man who’d stood between me and danger since my return. The man who watched me with grief, who held me under the oak tree like he feared losing me, the one I’d kissed.

My throat tightened.

“Why would she write this?”

Darius dropped his gaze to the letter.

“Your mother knew what I’d become.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t give you the answer you want.”

“Give me the truth, then.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t have all of it.”

“Did your father tell you to kill me?”

“No.”

“Did he explain her reasoning?”

“He told me if the day ever came, I’d have to choose.”

“Choose what?”

Darius looked right at me.

“You. Or what she feared.”

I stared. The words should have made sense, but all they did was open a hole inside me.

“What is the Hollow Moon?”

He didn’t like that name.

“An old power. Older than the crown. Older than most of the laws packs obey.”

“A person?”

“Not exactly.”

“So what then?”

“Something you shouldn’t have to answer tonight.”

The letter trembled in my hands. “Stop telling me what I can handle!”

My voice cracked. Darius flinched—a small movement, but I saw it. And I hated myself for still caring.

“I died without knowing why,” I whispered. “I thought I could change things. I found out you remembered my death. Someone tried to kill me. My mother’s name appeared next to your symbol. And now—she wanted you to kill me?”

My eyes burned. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Darius didn’t move.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why protect me?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He stared at me, silent. I remembered what he said in the archive. He’d tried to save me, failed, and here he was again—standing between me and some unnamed threat.

I stepped back.

“Was I ever safe with you?”

His expression shifted. Control cracked, finally.

“I never promised you safety.”

“No. You just keep asking me to trust you.”

“I haven’t asked you.”

“Then what do you want?”

He searched my face. I wished he’d look away. I wished he’d give me a reason to hate him.

He stayed quiet. That silence stung more than any confession.

I clutched the letter.

“My mother knew something about you—something so awful she left instructions for you to kill me.”

Darius’s voice went low. “Yes.”

“And you still won’t tell me what it is?”

“Not because I want to keep it from you.”

“Then why?”

“Because the pieces I remember might not be true.”

I stared. He stepped forward, stopped when I stiffened.

“I spent years trying to understand what your mother feared,” he said. “Every answer is another lie. Every memory twists. But one thing stayed the same.”

“What?”

He met my eyes. “You weren’t supposed to be alone.”

My chest hurt. For a terrible moment, I wanted to believe him. To forget everything but the kiss, the warmth of his hand, and how he waited for me.

But I’d made that mistake once. I wouldn’t do it again.

I took another step back.

“Then why are you protecting me?”

Darius looked at the letter, then at me.

His answer came quietly. “Because I disobeyed her.”

The words just sat there between us.

I couldn’t find anything to say. Darius didn’t try to explain. He didn’t touch me. He just stood there, letting me see the choice he’d made and the secret he’d carried.

I glanced at my mother’s handwriting one last time.

Darius must kill her.

Then I looked at the man who kissed me like I mattered more than his own fears.

I spent my first life trusting the wrong person.

Now I had a second chance.

And somehow, the first man I was starting to want was the one my mother warned me never to trust with my life.