Ch: 3 The Banquet She Couldn’t Refuse.

Yara’s POV

It had been three days since the whipping, but the memory still clung to me like a shadow that wouldn’t fade. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again, Mother’s whip slicing through the air, Tiana’s body shielding me, her soft gasp of pain.

I couldn’t forget it.

I walked around with guilt pressed heavy on my chest. Every breath reminded me that she had taken the blow meant for me. Every time I saw the faint red mark on my shoulder, I thought of the deeper one now resting on hers.

It was my fault. All of it.

But even with guilt eating me alive, I couldn’t leave my room. I was too scared. The last time I tried to explain myself, I almost got another lashing. So instead, I stayed locked in my chambers like a coward, staring out the window at the training grounds I once dreamed of joining.

Now, I wasn’t even allowed to step outside without permission.

The days passed in silence. Servants avoided me. Food trays were left by the door without a word. It was as if I didn’t exist anymore, as if I was just a stain they all wished would disappear.

On the third evening, the sound of footsteps broke through the silence. I froze when I recognized the rhythm, sharp, confident, and cold.

Mother.

The door opened without a knock.

She stepped in gracefully, dressed in a deep maroon gown that made her look every bit like the Beta she was. Her expression was unreadable, but the moment her eyes landed on me, her lips tightened in distaste.

I immediately stood, my hands trembling slightly as I bowed my head. “Mother.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked further into the room, her perfume filling the space, lavender and smoke, the scent I once loved but now dreaded.

When she finally spoke, her tone was clipped, formal. “You’ll be attending the welcoming banquet tomorrow night.”

My head shot up, startled. “W-what?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Yara. The banquet is being held in honor of the visiting dignitaries from the Crescent, Blackthorn, and Silver River packs. You will attend. You will behave. And most importantly, you will not bring shame upon this family again.”

‘Again…’ The word echoed in my mind, heavy and cruel.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mother,” I said softly. My fingers twisted together. “People don’t want me there. I don’t want to embarrass you…”

“You embarrass me by existing,” she cut in sharply.

I flinched.

She continued, her tone steady but filled with venom. “But since you insist on breathing the same air as the rest of us, you will at least learn how to stand quietly and look decent. Do not draw attention to yourself. Do not speak unless spoken to. And for the goddess’s sake, do not cry.”

Her words stung worse than the whip.

I bit my lip hard, forcing myself not to cry in front of her again. She hated tears. She said only weak wolves cried.

“Yes, Mother,” I whispered.

Her gaze lingered on me for a long, suffocating moment before she turned and walked out, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The door shut behind her with a sound that felt too final.

As soon as she was gone, I sat back down on the edge of the bed and pressed my palms against my face.

Why did she hate me so much?

I had asked myself that question too many times to count, but there was never an answer. I used to think maybe she blamed herself for my condition, for giving birth to a daughter without a wolf. But now… now it felt like she simply despised that I existed at all.

“I won’t go,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “I can’t. She’ll only find another reason to humiliate me.”

I didn’t want to stand there surrounded by people who would whisper and laugh. I didn’t want to see pity in their eyes or disgust on their faces. I didn’t want to give Mother another chance to hurt me.

I curled up on my bed that night, pulling the blanket over my head. Maybe if I stayed quiet enough, she’d forget about me.

The next evening, I was sitting by the window, watching the sky change colors when a gentle knock came from the door.

I froze.

It wasn’t Mother’s sharp, impatient knock. This one was soft. Familiar.

“Yara?”

My heart jumped. “Tia?”

I rushed to open the door. The moment I saw her, my eyes filled with tears.

She looked better, color had returned to her face, though her shoulder was still bandaged. She wore a light cream gown and had her hair pulled into a neat braid that made her look almost ethereal.

“Tia,” I breathed, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

She smiled softly, the same warm smile that always made me feel safe. “You shouldn’t cry,” she said, stepping closer. “You’ll ruin those pretty eyes.”

But I couldn’t stop myself. The tears fell freely as I threw my arms around her. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. You shouldn’t have protected me that day. You could have been hurt worse. I…”

She wrapped her arms around me, shushing softly. “Hey, stop. You’re shaking again.”

“I caused this,” I whispered. “If I hadn’t made her angry, she wouldn’t have hit you.”

Tiana pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes. “You didn’t make her angry, Yara. She chose to be. You can’t control that.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “It’s still my fault. You always get hurt because of me.”

She sighed, her hand brushing away the tears on my cheeks. “If you really want to make it up to me,” she said gently, “then come to the banquet tonight.”

I blinked at her, confused. “What?”

“Come with me,” she said, smiling wider this time. “It’s been so long since you attended a proper event. You can’t keep hiding here forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” I murmured, looking away.

“Yes, you are,” she said, her tone still light but firm. “You think if you stay locked up, Mother will forget about you, but she won’t. You’re her daughter, Yara. Whether she admits it or not.”