Luna looked up but didn’t say anything. Her body refused to respond; she couldn’t even fake a smile.
“A bath’s been drawn for you,” Winta added, “and there are fresh clothes in the wardrobe—yours to borrow, of course. I assumed you didn’t bring any with you.” She lingered by the door a second, pausing as if something else hovered on her tongue. “Structure helps me manage things.”
The smile that followed didn’t quite reach Winta’s eyes. For a heartbeat longer, she stared at Luna like she was waiting for her to say something.
But Luna had nothing left to give. No words. No polite nod. Nothing.
The bone-deep exhaustion that had clung to her since escaping the camp was threatening to pull her under. Just standing there took everything she had.
An awkward silence stretched between them before Winta finally turned and quietly closed the door behind her.
The silence echoing in the room was as loud as the emptiness inside of her. She had made it out of Ghelvina. She was free from the humans, but not really free at all.
Was Damien delaying Nina because he was never planning on introducing them? Was he truly that cruel? At this point, another betrayal wouldn’t surprise Luna. She had already suffered so many.
She moved to the window and pulled back the sheer curtain. Beyond the hedge, the waterfall still glowed faintly. That was the way out—through the roses, past the water, and into the forest. As she stared, Luna wondered if she should flee now and risk never meeting Nina. Could she bear a life of freedom if it meant she’d never have answers? She didn’t know.
Chapter 36
In Spite of Everything
Her gaze hadn’t left the window since Winta closed the door. She’d spent a lifetime longing for freedom, but now that it was hers, it didn’t feel the way she thought it would.
Whatever relief came with escaping King Hendrix was buried beneath the knowledge that she still wasn’t safe—not while Damien held the reins.
The silence of the room pressed in around her.
Her choices weighed heavily on her mind, but also in the hollowness she carried in her chest. Everything had been taken from her: her home, her sense of self . . . the girl she used to be. If she was to look in the mirror now, she wouldn’t recognize the person staring back.
Clutching her heart, she let out a ragged breath and snatched the bedsheet, flinging it over the mirror in the corner, shielding herself from whatever Tyrina’s cruelty had left behind.
For a moment, she stood there, unsure what to do next. Then she noticed steam curling through the air, soft beckoning wisps. Her aching feet moved on their own, drawn through a narrow archway at the back of the bedroom and into a smaller chamber, lush with green. Ferns spilled from the ceiling, and moss softened the stone floor beneath her hooves.
In the center stood—what Luna would later learn was called—a whala: a massive, tulip-shaped bath in full bloom. Its stiff petals curved inward to form a deep basin.
Without another thought, she peeled the flower dress from her body and stepped in. Warm water rose around her, laced with the scent of crushed rose petals. She sank slowly, the heat easing into her sore muscles, soothing her.
For a few breaths, she let it hold her.
The scent reminded her of jasmine. Of another bath—hotter, more crowded. With servants scrubbing too hard and her mother’s voice calling down the corridor:“My daughters will not be outshined tonight.”Emily had been laughing while she’d been scowling.
She remembered how much she hated the attention, the perfume, the ceremony preparations—all of it.
And now . . . Now she would give anything to go back. Just to be in it again, before everything fell apart.
The memory dissolved as the water cooled. She reached for a cloth and mechanically began scrubbing, as if she could wash away the turmoil that threatened to consume her.
Once finished and dressed, she crawled into bed. The sheets were like silk, but she barely felt them . . . too lost inside herself.
A knock sounded at the door. Then it creaked open, and Damien’s head appeared. His eyes were bright, and the edge of a smile tugged on his lips. He looked familiar, like the version of himself from before she knew the truth.
His smile vanished the instant he saw her. His brow pulled tight, concern shadowing his features. “Are you okay?”
No.But it would be easier—safer—to lie.
Her hands curled into the sheets, fisting it as she tried to speak the correct words. Her lips trembled; her throat closed.
She couldn’t.
