Make me forget

It didn't take long for all eyes to be turned on them. It didn't help that it was followed by whispers and murmurs she was trying hard not to catch snippets of.

The music blaring in her ears seemed too loud the more she tried to focus on the Lycan King.

He moved the way he spoke—flawlessly—spinning her under the spotlight until they were the only ones on the dance floor.

"You're so good you put the courtesans to shame," she laughed nervously. "Tell me, Asher, did it come with the charm?"

A small sly smile perched on his lips. "Maybe I'm trying to impress." He spun her so her back was pressed against him. "Even the most notorious Lycan lacks strength in the face of a beautiful woman."

The gasps came strongly now.

"Is—is that Lady Iris?"

"And—the Alpha King?!"

"All in front of her husband?!"

Iris felt her face burn. At this rate, whether Pity's plan or not, Nathan was definitely going to take it the wrong way.

Even now, a few steps away from her—and there he stood with Princess Lira in his arms, frozen mid-motion as his eyes latched on her.

His sea blues blazed, but a frustrated Lira snatched his jaw, turning his attention on her, yelling something in his face she was trying to make out when Asher spun her again so she was facing him.

"Forget about him tonight. This is all about you."

She wasn't sure what about those words made her rigidity thaw—or was it the warm, stubborn pupils that felt as though she was staring into those of a trusted friend?

But she found herself holding him tighter and closer, ignoring the gasps and matching his fluidity.

She was going to make tonight about her.

But it was cute and ignorant that he thought she had enough worth to steal a spotlight.

She caught Atlas still staring and gave him a small smile, strangling every flip in her guts that refused to die.

This... he... was getting too hard to ignore, and she couldn't tell why.

━✦❖✦━

Minutes later, after the music had ended and the audience erupted in hesitant applause, Asher took a bow gracefully and smiled down at her, now out of breath.

She laughed then, wondering how she looked. Maybe sweaty, maybe hair out of place, perhaps a crime scene. Still, she laughed.

"It should be a crime you think an old lady could match you."

Asher shrugged, bringing her knuckles to his lips. "Is the old lady in the room with us?" Asher squeezed her hand lightly before releasing it. “I’ve got to make rounds, but don’t vanish on me, Lady Iris. Save me another dance?"

"I—" she stopped. "Maybe."

He chuckled, giving her a mock bow before slipping into the crowd, leaving Iris to the chaotic audience who seemed divided between awe and disgust.

And even with that, her gaze drifted almost against her will towards the Duke, whose admirers had been replaced by Luigi, whose quiet exasperation was easy to read on his face.

Yet he still stared. Why? Was he curious to ask her something about what it was like to be claimed for years?

Asher was now before them, saying something with flair as he mockingly swept his hair back. Luigi laughed aloud, attracting attention, and Atlas glowered at the King as though he wanted to wrestle him down a mud hill.

Iris felt warmth bloom in her chest. Nothing could rival youth.

She tore her eyes away. Focus, Iris. Focus. She couldn’t afford to get lost in whatever this was. Nathan was here.

Speaking of Nathan, she looked around just in time to see his back disappear down a quiet corner, shoulders rigid. Angry? Her heart skipped a beat.

That meant she wouldn't be able to grant the Lycan King that dance. She needed to see Nathan now. Waiting later would come at a cost.

So, heart in her mouth, she raced the path he took, finding herself in a narrow hallway adorned with red rugs, sculptures, and vases which were supposed to be filled with fresh bouquets.

As she peered in from door to door, the thought of the flower shortage filled her head. Even during the winter, finding flowers wasn't so much of a task—and this was midsummer.

She frowned. Did someone just walk into the market and purchase it all? What did they want so many flowers—

"Damn it! Lira, listen to me!"

Iris halted in her tracks as Nathan's rage spilled from a closed room. Princess Lira—with her grace and elegance—no one spoke to the young lady like that. She was the pride of King George and the star of Pack Midnight...

Yet...

"I can't leave Iris—your father says the time isn’t right. He’s terrified that if she’s given even a moment to heal… she might remember everything."

Iris’s breath caught in her throat. That was Nathan's voice, all right...

"Quit lying to me and own it!" Lira's voice was impatient. "This isn't about my father. You can't just let go of her. You're still in love with her."

"That's false!"

"False?" She laughed. "You can't bear to see her talking to other men. The first person you asked to see in the hospital was her." Her growl reeked of rage. "And if you finally take her throne, she'll be that piece in the background you find comfort in. It won't be—oomf."

Her voice was cut short with a muffle, lips against lips, a desperate moan, and husky breaths seconds later.

Iris staggered back, clutching at her chest. Her throne... She had a throne? Not lands—but throne?

"Lira," Nathan whispered. "I agree she’s broken enough. I agree she will never remember what she was, but..." He sighed. "Your dad... as long as he sits on that throne, we’ll never be together."

"No, no, I don't want that. I want to be with you."

"Then help me with my plan and quit complaining, Lira." Nathan's voice rose to a snap, but Lira whimpered and his voice softened. "I get it, it’s harder on you than it is for me. He’s your father. But you have to help me here. Your father will not let me do away with her. If I disobey, he gives it all to Matthew."

"Why don't you just kill her instead of my father?" Lira whined.

Iris’s eyes widened.

"Iris isn’t standing between me and the throne. She’ll never remember anything. But your father is."

Iris’s knees quaked beneath her, her back pressed against the cold wall so she didn’t fall on her face as her sight blurred.

Her hands shook so much that clutching at them proved useless. She had a throne? Perhaps she didn’t hear right. How could she have a throne when her father was Gamma...

No... they told her he was Gamma, and her family had been wiped out and her brother ran away to escape the shame of their father’s treason... How much of that... was true?

"I'm sorry, Nathan." Lira's voice seemed so small. "I'm sorry I doubted you. Will you come to me tonight? Please?"

She needed to get out of here before they found her. With each step she took back to the hall, tears trailed down her cheek, blurring her sight so it was hard to see.

"Excuse me... please excuse. I'm sorry." She threw apologies at the disgruntled crowds, hiding her face so they didn’t see her makeup being washed out by her tears.

Until she slammed against that frame—hard—with that familiar scent that had left her unsteady for weeks, and there she went, falling backward, letting gravity take her without a fight, hoping she lost consciousness and didn’t face the shame that would come later.

But those hands—that had once wrapped bandages around her cut while he bled out—caught her just in time, so in seconds, her widened browns were on those greys, inches from her face.

"Lady Iris?" He searched her wet lids with concern. "Are you okay?"

Her heart pounded in her chest. The hall felt too loud. Him too close—but somehow not close enough. Would he hide her? If she asked him to?

However...

It was then the flowers fell—rains of them from the ceiling, petals cascading around them in their millions, shielding the crowd until she could only see him.

The faint scars on his face, soft dilated pupils—his scent surrounded her senses.

Duke Atlas reached down, and when his hand came back up, he held a red marigold to her face.

And he murmured, "Happy birthday, Lady Iris."

Iris’s lips parted, the lump in her throat melting, but still, there were no words...

Somehow, she couldn’t find the heart to tell him today wasn’t her birthday...

Or... was it?