Chapter 60: Forbidden

Third POV

The doors to Luna Nyra's chambers slammed against the stone walls, the sound echoing through the suite like thunder. Elsie stood in the doorway, her chest heaving, her green eyes blazing with fury. Her red hair, usually so carefully arranged, had come loose from its braid, falling in wild waves around her pale face.

Nyra did not flinch.

She lay on the massage table in the center of the room, her robe draped over her thin shoulders, her eyes closed in languid relaxation. Two maids worked on her legs, kneading the muscles with practiced hands, their movements slow and rhythmic. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the scent of lavender oil hung heavy in the air.

"I thought I heard a storm approaching," Nyra said, her voice light, amused. "But it is only my daughter."

Elsie stepped forward, her boots clicking on the polished floor. "Do not mock me, Mother. Not today."

Nyra opened one eye, studying her daughter over the rim of her own shoulder. "Why so dramatic? Has someone died?"

"Worse." Elsie stopped at the foot of the massage table, her hands on her hips. "You are trying to sell me to a fisherman."

Nyra closed her eye and sighed. "Ah. Malcom."

"Do not say his name as if you have only just remembered him. You knew. You must have known. He has been lurking around this manor for weeks, and you said nothing."

"I did not know he was interested in you," Nyra said, waving a hand at the maids. They stepped back, curtsied, and slipped out of the room, closing the doors behind them. "I thought he was here for the trade negotiations. He seemed quite focused on the grain shipments."

"He asked the king for consent to marry me."

"Did he?" Nyra sat up slowly, pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders. Her red hair, the same shade as her daughter's, spilled down her back in a tangled curtain. Her face was pale, sharp, beautiful in the way that winter is beautiful. Cold. Unforgiving. "I did not know that."

Elsie stared at her mother, searching for the lie. Nyra's expression was unreadable, as it always was. She could have been telling the truth. She could have been plotting this for months. There was no way to know.

"Would you have stopped him?" Elsie asked. "If you had known?"

Nyra tilted her head, considering. "At your age, I was already married to your father. It was not a choice I made lightly, but it was a choice I made. Marriage is not the end of the world, Elsie. It is the beginning of a new one."

"I do not want a new world. I want this one."

"This one?" Nyra looked around the chamber, at the dark stone walls, the narrow windows, the heavy tapestries that had hung there for generations. "This world is cold, my daughter. Dark. Lonely. A husband from Riverpack would bring you warmth. Sunlight. The sea."

"I do not want the sea."

"Then what do you want?"

Elsie opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. The truth sat on her tongue, heavy and dangerous. She wanted Zuri. She wanted the freedom to love whom she chose without fear of reprisal. She wanted to be seen as a person, not a pawn, not a bargaining chip, not a prize to be won by the highest bidder.

But she could not say any of that. Not to her mother. Not to anyone.

"I want to be left alone," Elsie said instead.

Nyra laughed, a dry, brittle sound. "Alone. You are young. You do not know what alone means."

"I know what it means to be used."

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and accusing.

Nyra's expression flickered. Just for a moment. Then the mask slid back into place.

"You are dramatic, just like your father."

"My father never speaks."

"Exactly." Nyra swung her legs off the massage table and reached for her robe, tying it at the waist. "Malcom is not a bad match. His family is wealthy. His pack is prosperous. You could do worse."

"I could do better."

"Could you?" Nyra's eyes swept over her daughter, assessing. "You are beautiful, Elsie. But beauty fades. Power endures. A marriage to Malcom would give you power. Influence. A voice at the table where decisions are made."

"I already have a voice."

"You have a voice because I gave you one. Do not mistake my indulgence for permanence."

Elsie felt the words like a slap. She had known, of course, that her mother's support was conditional. Everything in the Midnight Pack was conditional. Love, loyalty, safety. All of it could be revoked at any moment, for any reason.

"I will not marry him," Elsie said, her voice low and steady. "Not if the king himself comes here to force me. Not if you disown me. Not if the world ends."

Nyra studied her daughter for a long moment. Then she smiled, a thin, cold curve of her lips.

"Be careful what you wish for," she said. "The cursed king has claws that can tear open a man's stomach. Do not give him reason to turn them on you."

Elsie's blood ran cold. But she lifted her chin and met her mother's gaze without flinching.

"Is that a threat, Mother?"

"It is a warning." Nyra turned away, walking toward the window that overlooked the dark gardens. "The king is not stable. He never has been. And the woman he has taken into his confidence, the healer, Hecate... she is playing a dangerous game. If she fails, if she angers him, his wrath will fall on all of us."

"Hecate." Elsie spoke the name carefully. "You miss her."

"We have a connection." Nyra's voice was distant, thoughtful. "But none of that concerns you."

"Everything you do concerns me."

"Then trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart." Nyra turned back to face her daughter. "Even when it does not feel that way."

Elsie stared at her mother for a long moment. Then she turned and walked toward the door.

"Elsie." Nyra's voice stopped her. "The king has consented to the match. That is not nothing. It would be unwise to refuse him openly."

"I will handle the king."

"How?"

Elsie did not answer. She pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor, her boots echoing on the stone.

Zuri was waiting for her, as she always was. The omega fell into step behind her, her dark eyes watchful, her expression carefully neutral. They walked in silence through the manor, past the servants who bowed their heads, past the guards who nodded in respect.

When they reached Elsie's chambers, Zuri closed the door and leaned against it, her hands behind her back.

"Are you alright?" Zuri asked.

Elsie stood in the center of the room, her hands trembling, her heart racing. The fury was still there, burning hot in her chest, but beneath it was something else. Fear. Loneliness. A desperate, clawing need to be held.

"No," Elsie said. "I am not alright."

Zuri crossed the room and took her hands. Her fingers were warm, calloused from work, familiar in a way that made Elsie's chest ache.

"They cannot force you to marry him," Zuri said. "Not if you refuse."

"They can try."

"Then let them try. You are stronger than they know."

Elsie looked up into Zuri's dark eyes. The omega was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with the standards of the court. Her skin was dark, her features soft, her smile gentle. She was comfort. She was home. She was the only person in the world who saw Elsie as she truly was and loved her anyway.

"I made you a promise," Elsie said. "Years ago. Do you remember?"

Zuri nodded. "You said no one would separate us."

"I meant it."

"I know."

Elsie reached up and cupped Zuri's face in her hands. Her thumbs traced the line of her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Zuri's eyes fluttered closed.

"No one will separate us," Elsie whispered. "Not Malcom. Not my mother. Not the king himself. I swear it."

Zuri opened her eyes and smiled. Then she leaned forward and kissed Elsie.

It was a soft kiss at first, gentle and tender, years of longing and secrecy poured into the press of lips against lips. But it deepened quickly, the way it always did when they were alone, the way it had for years, in the dark, in the shadows, in the stolen moments between duties and obligations.

Elsie pulled Zuri toward the bed, and they fell onto the soft furs together, tangled in each other's arms. Their hands moved with familiar urgency, undressing each other, rediscovering skin they knew by heart.

The fire crackled. The candles burned low. And in the privacy of her chambers, Elsie loved the woman she could never claim in public.

Afterward, they lay together, Zuri's head on Elsie's chest, their legs intertwined beneath the sheets. Elsie stroked her lover's hair, her heart full and aching.

"Whatever happens," Elsie said, "I will find a way. To keep you. To keep us."

Zuri lifted her head and looked at her. "I know."

They kissed again, softly, and held each other in the darkness.

The truth was simple. Elsie would not marry Malcom because she did not love him. Because her heart belonged to someone else. Because for years, she and Zuri had been living a forbidden romance, hidden from the eyes of the court, hidden from the judgment of the packs.

And Elsie would burn the world before she let anyone take Zuri away.