Chapter 289
Eating. Talking. Meeting people. Slow dancing to the music the orchestra was playing.
All around us the celebration burned brightly, the palace hall a whirl of gowns and silks, laughter spilling like wine, the scent of roasted venison mingling with the sweetness of candied fruits. Crystal glasses chimed. Men and women clung to one another as though the world itself existed only in their dance.
But Diana and I? We weren’t doing any of this.
We sat in the section reserved for the council, rather brainstorming—nothing mattered more than the mystery of what had truly happened to me that fateful night, almost a year ago.
The night of my supposed death. The night I should have been gone. The memory clung to me like smoke, always just behind my ribs.
Diana’s eyes glittered, reflecting the golden chandeliers above us. She leaned closer, her tone sharp though quiet. “Do you think they were controlled? Like pawns in a game? But who would do it? What vendetta would the person have against you p>
I shook my head. “I don’t know… it doesn’t make sense p>
Diana shrugged. “You had Adam’s attention. The Lycan King was showing you a leniency he never showed outcasts. Any psychotic would have plenty of reasons to want you gone—out of the way, out of this world p>
I swallowed. She wasn’t wrong. Adam’s sudden possessiveness of me hadn’t gone unnoticed.
But murder?
I let the question gnaw at me. Who would hate me enough to kill me?
Faces passed through my mind, shadowed like specters. My step-siblings—yes, they had hated me then. Their disgust had burned like oil. But did it burn hot enough to spill blood? To plan my murder?
No. I didn’t think so. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn
Neither did Claire.
Yet, when I closed my eyes, I remembered her face—or what looked like hers. That night, in the send-off party, I had seen a girl. A little girl. A reflection of Claire, though younger. Yet there had never been another female child in the Beta’s family.
So who was she? Where had she come from?
I relayed my unease to Diana, my voice unsteady.
Her expression darkened as I spoke, as though the puzzle disturbed her as much as it unsettled me.
“Do you think Claire could have done it?” Diana asked bluntly after a pause. “She had the cause. She wanted Adam. She wanted the Luna position. Your existence diminished her worth in the King’s eyes p>
“Claire?” I whispered, shaking my head. “She may hate me, but killing me? That’s p>
“That’s exactly the point,” Diana cut in, eyes narrowing. “She might be of the same age as you, but that doesn’t erode her evilness. I think she’s capable. Very capable p>
I leaned back, frustration searing through me. “But she’s a werewolf!” I whisper-yelled, my voice sharper than I intended.
Diana stilled, then sighed, brushing strands of dark hair behind her ear. “So, she may have met a witch. A witch with a grudge. Stranger alliances have happened p>
I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “Where? That’s too far-fetched, Diana. Maybe I lowered my voice. maybe it was the Queen p>
Diana immediately shook her head. “No. According to your story, the Queen wasn’t even in the pack then. She couldn’t have orchestrated it—she didn’t know you p>
“We can’t rule that out still,” I muttered.
Diana threw up her hands, frowning. Her annoyance radiated off her in waves—until her eyes caught something behind me. Her expression shifted instantly.
I turned, following her gaze, and froze.
Daniel.
He stood just a few paces away, his smile easy, his eyes locked on me with a charm that felt practiced. Too practiced.
Strange much? I mused, cocking a brow. His timing, his presence—it was almost calculated.
What do you want?
Ever since Adam had drawn closer to me, his brothers had grown distant, their affection subdued, as though resigned. I thought maybe they had given up their silent competition.
But perhaps I was wrong.
Perhaps they had only been waiting.
“Do you care for a dance?” Daniel asked smoothly, voice low enough to curl around me like smoke. Then, seeing the hesitation in my eyes, he added quickly, “Please p>
The word surprised me. Almost as if he knew rejection was on my lips.
I sighed, against my better judgment, and slipped my hand into his. His touch was warm, too warm, his grip firm.
As he led me to the dance floor, my eyes searched instinctively for Adam.
And there he was.Dancing with a woman.
A sharp pang struck me unbidden, jealousy blooming bitter and hot in my chest.
But then I noticed she was older, elegant. Someone who looked more like his aunt than a partner.
I snorted softly at myself. Ridiculous.
“Diana, you can check out the tables,” I said, throwing my sister a wink.
She pouted at first, then laughed, shaking her head as she rose. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” she teased, heading toward the long row of desserts.
Daniel wasted no time. He pulled me to the center of the floor, his eyes glinting mischievously. “So,” he said, tilting his head. “What dance would enthrall you most? Slow or fast p>
“I think I’ll be okay with any,” I murmured, though my heart was less certain. My dancing skills were questionable at best.
But my magic?
That was something else entirely.
Reaching within, I brushed against the familiar tether—the thread that tied me to El. Relief flooded me when I felt it stir, faint but alive, like embers warming in the dark. She was awakening. Stronger.
If I pulled gently, she could lend me grace. Control.
Daniel’s eyes lit with mischief. “So, you can do tango p>
The challenge laced in his voice ignited something in me. I lifted my chin, nodding despite myself.
He grinned, triumphant. “Let’s do it then p>
Turning, he gestured to the band. The violins shifted, the cellos deepened, the music slowed, then sharpened, dramatic in its rise. A tango. All eyes began to pivot toward us.
He faced me again, his smile dazzling, his confidence like a flame. “Are you ready p>
“As ready as I can be,” I muttered.
Every gaze in the room was on me. On us.
Daniel’s hand slipped around my waist with the ease of someone who had rehearsed this a thousand times. His palm was firm but not forceful, his grip steady as he pulled me closer.
The crowd rippled with murmurs as the orchestra struck the first sharp note, the violins slicing the air like blades.
The tango began.
Daniel stepped forward, I back, our bodies aligning to the rhythm. His eyes never left mine, gleaming with confidence that bordered on arrogance.
He turned me sharply, the fabric of my gown swirling like liquid fire around my legs. Gasps sounded from the audience as I caught myself mid-spin, heels scraping against the marble floor.
For a moment, panic flared—I wasn’t a trained dancer. This was folly. But then I reached inward, brushed against the tether, and El responded. A warm current of grace slid into my limbs. My body remembered steps I had never learned, muscles flowing to music I didn’t fully hear.
Daniel twirled me again, dipping me low. My hair cascaded downward, catching the glow of chandeliers. For an instant I thought I might fall, but his grip held, steady and unyielding. The crowd applauded, delighted, their whispers prickling against my skin.
“See?” Daniel murmured, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “You were born for this p>
I gave a breathless laugh, though my heart thudded hard. Born for this? Hardly. But El’s presence steadied me, and somehow— somehow —I didn’t trip.
We moved faster, our steps sharper, the tango pulling us into its storm. Daniel spun me out, then reeled me back in, our bodies snapping together with the crack of the percussion. The audience gasped again, a few women clapping along, eyes alight with admiration.
By the final note, Daniel held me in a low dip, my arm extended, my chest rising and falling. A hush fell over the hall, broken only by thunderous applause.
I pulled upright, cheeks flushed, and gave a small curtsy. Daniel bowed, his smile smug and victorious, though his eyes… his eyes lingered on me with something far deeper than triumph.
I stepped back quickly, breaking the spell.
But before I could retreat, another hand caught mine.
Noah.
He smiled softly, unlike Daniel’s fierce intensity. His eyes were gentler, his grip less demanding, and his voice when he spoke was like cool water. “May I p>
I hesitated, my heart still racing from the first dance. But Noah’s steadiness soothed me, and somehow I found myself nodding.
The orchestra shifted again, this time to a slower piece. The tension melted from the hall as the violins hummed a more romantic, lingering melody. Noah drew me close, but not too close, his hand resting respectfully at my waist.
Where Daniel’s tango had been fire, Noah’s dance was moonlight.
We swayed, turned, his movements fluid, deliberate. His gaze didn’t challenge me but invited me, asking silently if I was comfortable.
And I was. Strangely so. I found myself smiling, even laughing once as he spun me gently and caught me with ease.
“You look more at peace,” Noah whispered.
“Because you’re not trying to make me faint,” I teased, recalling Daniel’s relentless tempo.
He chuckled softly, a low sound that curled pleasantly in my chest. Around us, the audience had quieted, murmuring less, watching more with fond expressions.
Where Daniel had drawn admiration with drama, Noah drew warmth, softness.
It was almost… nice.
But then p>
“Enough p>
A word uttered stiffly, almost a whisper, from behind me, slicing through the gentle atmosphere like a blade.
I stiffened, turning aside.
Adam.