Chapter 11
I finally figured out how to spell “Théodoric”.
Elliana had taught it to me, but she hadn’t explained much-probably because she knew it was Lucian’s middle name and didn’t dare say too much.
But I loved the word. I wrote his name-Lucian Théodoric Mercer-across the whole page in big, proud letters.
Just as I was admiring my masterpiece, Lucian walked in.
His vanilla scent drifted into the room before he even crossed the threshold, warm and sweet.
“Lucian, look!” I beamed, holding up the page like a prize. “This is the best thing I’ve ever written!”
A few days ago, he said my handwriting looked like ants had crawled all over the page. Today, I was sure I’d blow him away.
His eyes lit up, and he laughed softly. “Of all the people in the world, I think you might be the only one bold enough to write out my full name-middle name and all-on a single sheet of paper.”
I climbed into his lap and laid the page out on the desk in front of us.
“So that’s how you spell Théodoric,” I said proudly. “Told you it was a great name-I really, really like it.”
He glanced at the word. “Because it’s easy to write?”
It was pretty simple-just a few elegant strokes. Easier than the other names I’d practiced.
I hesitated, then puffed my cheeks and acted all serious. “No! That’s not why!”
He didn’t press. Instead, he picked up the pen and filled in the empty spaces between the names with more this time, writing Lyra again and again until the entire page was full of our names tangled together.
п
I grinned so wide it hurt. I wanted to hang it on the wall.
Just then, Callum stepped inside and gave Lucian a formal bow. “Alpha Sam has arrived,” he said, then glanced at me and softened his tone. “Luna Everly is here as well.”
It was the first time my mom had visited me at the castle.
Lucian went to meet my father in the main hall while my mother was escorted to my room.
“Lyra,” she cried the moment she saw me, her eyes already glassy as she looked me over from head to toe. “Have they been treating you badly here?”
I nodded solemnly.
Chapter 11
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Her brows pinched in concern. “Is it the Alpha King?”
“It’s him,” I grumbled, dragging her to sit beside me. “He said he can’t have only one Luna. He says he’s not like Dad. Mom, you have to talk some sense into him!”
Her hands trembled a little-but I noticed the worry in her eyes eased quite a bit.
“And another thing! He always comes to bed super late. Sometimes I’m already asleep when he shows up!”
“And another thing,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “He doesn’t taste bitter anymore–but the medicine he gives me is! He lies and says it isn’t.”
I rattled off every one of his “crimes” in detail.
Mom’s expression grew more and more complicated until she finally looked me over again,
squinting. “No wonder you’ve gained a little weight,” she said under her breath.
I gasped. I haven’t gotten that fat!
I even shared half my chocolates and cakes with Lucian every day!
And instead of scolding him on my behalf, my mom actually smiled as she left and whispered, “Be
good to the Alpha King.”
I had the sneaking suspicion she pitied him more than me.
When I told Lucian about it later, he laughed for a long time. Then he wrapped his arms around me and murmured, “Lyra, I can’t wait any longer. It’s time. The game begins now.”
Lucian got sick.
The healers said it looked like his heart condition had worsened-but also like he’d been poisoned.
I stayed at his bedside for days. My eyes were sore from crying, but the healers couldn’t find a way to help him.
Aubrey was even more frantic than me. She brought in doctors from distant packs-and even hired
a witch.
None of it worked. Lucian remained unconscious. And because Emery disapproved of witchcraft,
she locked Aubrey up in the dungeon.
That night, all the healers finally left. The servants waited outside.
It was just me and Lucian in the quiet bedroom.
The wind howled outside the windows as Emery walked in-her steps slow, her expression calm.
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She looked as graceful as always. Time had softened her face, turned her beauty into something almost gentle.
“It was bound to come to this,” she said, stopping beneath the candlelight. Her voice sounded
brittle, like wax cracking under flame.
I turned to look at her.
“Was it your medicine?” I asked. “Did you poison him?”
