Chapter 8
1441 Words
Sovia’s POV
If he married Blossom, my death was still going to come. But would Janova still end my life?
Leaving my life to fate was impossible.
I would stick to what I knew — a few years from today, I would be dead.
“Happy birthday, my dear daughter.” It was my mother, grinning from ear to ear as she spread her arms wide.
A fresh wave of nausea churned in my gut, my wolf recoiling at the knowledge from my past life.
Has she ever truly seen me as her daughter?
We had lived together for so long, yet she hadn’t batted an eye when it came time to end my life.
My mother swept me into a tight embrace, her fingers digging into my waist while onlookers cooed at the perfect mother-daughter display.
Words had spread about how she gave so much attention to her younger daughter, but it was all fake.
Goosebumps raced up my neck when she leaned close to my ear. “Where have you been?”
Locking my gaze on Janova's retreating form, a deep frown settled over my mouth.
Did he say something to my mother?
I should have been more discreet, but I couldn’t just stand him.
“I just went upstairs for some fresh air, Mom.”
I pulled away, keeping my smile low and almost neutral.
My mother’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, a layer of suspicion flickering beneath the surface.
Taking my hand, we started to move through the crowd. “Listen, my dear. This is your birthday party, but I told you — people are dangerous. Stay close to Nanny Nicola.”
“Hmm.” I hummed absentmindedly, my gaze searching for the only person on my mind.
Zadekiah.
If he was truly going to marry Blossom, I would ruin it.
She had ruined my past. I would ruin her present.
“Sovia.” My mother’s voice pulled my attention back to her.
Her gaze squinted. “Things have not been moving smoothly between us. Do you blame your mother?”
I sighed, lowering my head.
She wanted games, and I was going to give her just that.
“No, of course not. Why would I blame you, Mom?”
She tapped my hand gently. “Good girl.”
Nanny Nicola came up beside my mother, her eyes widening as she searched for me. “My lady, you’re here.”
I gave a low nod, keeping my face firm.
Her brown hair was styled neatly at the back with carefully laid edges. She was almost the same age as my mother, but she always kept her outfit simple. Her posture was stiff and could intimidate anyone.
She pressed close to my mother, and I noticed the flicker of tension between them.
I did a little curtsy and smoothed the lines of my gown.
“How about you two talk? I’ll stay at the corner.”
As I expected, my mother agreed. Something felt off as I watched them leave the hall.
Now I was back in the crowd. Familiar faces greeted me. Some even tried to make small talk, but I kept searching for Zadekiah.
He wasn’t here. And neither was Blossom.
An ache burned at the back of my neck. The heels felt like they were shrinking a few inches closer to my feet.
I just wanted this whole thing to be over. I needed to think.
To plan carefully.
“Little sis…”
I froze at the sound of the familiar voice.
Slowly, a face appeared in front of me.
It was my older sister, Lydia.
She was tall, with a calm face. Perfect doe eyes that could enchant anyone with just a glance.
Her red curls cascaded over her shoulders, nearly reaching her waist.
Like a fairy who should never have graced this world.
As ashamed as I was to admit it, jealousy had always twisted in my chest whenever I looked at her.
“Lydia…” My voice strained as I saw her step in front of me.
She had always been cold to me but warm to others.
I had assumed she hated me because of our mother’s attention.
But when I died, she had broken. She was the only one who cried, while they all stood over me with victory plastered on their faces.
“Lydia, it’s nice to—”
My voice came out strained.
Before I could finish, her arms enveloped me, face pressing into the curve of my neck. Her familiar scent—soft lavender and something warmer, almost protective flooded my senses. My wolf stirred unexpectedly, a quiet whine rising at the genuine tremor in her hold.
My hand hovered awkwardly in the air.
This was the first time she had hugged me.
“Little sis…” she breathed, her hands trembling as she held me even tighter.
Was this really my world, or some alternate reality?
Lydia would never…
She pulled away, her hand cupping my jaw. Soft laughter filled the space between us as tears filled her eyes.
“Ly… Lydia, are you okay?”
“Hmm.” She nodded, her smile deepening.
If I remembered correctly, Lydia had just returned with my father from one of their travels.
We hadn’t seen each other until today, and this was certainly not how we had met before.
Lydia hugged me again. “I’m so glad you are here… sister.”
“Sister?”
I swallowed, my heart thumping.
Lydia called me sister.
Pulling away, she took my hand and tugged me forward as she led me into the party.
I let her guide me through the influential circle of high-profile guests, their mingled scents of mint and sweet spice wrapping around us.
A few ladies gave curt nods at the sight of us together. Lydia answered with effortless warmth.
She excelled at everything. Her one clear devotion was to our mother, a worship we had once shared.
We reached a table where men and women sat in low conversation.
“Everyone,” Lydia announced gracefully. All eyes flickered up toward us. She gestured gracefully. “Meet my younger sister — Sovia. The celebrant.”
How had I not known about this part?
In the past, after my engagement to Janova was announced, I had been led back to my room by Nanny Nicola. Maybe that was why.
This was my chance to step away from living in the shadows.
“Good day, everyone. Nice to meet you.” I offered the best smile I could muster.
A few exchanged pleasantries with warmth, but some did not.
I kept my head high.
“Wow, you’re sisters? Unbelievable.”
The sugary tone set my wolf pressing forward, instincts flaring at the hostility hidden beneath.
I narrowed my eyes to see Blossom propping her chin against the table. She beamed. “Strange,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Your own guest can’t recognise you even at your own party.”
Blossom, even in this life, you still won’t let me go?
Good. I don't want you to.
I turned to my sister, raising my hand to my nose as if feeling discomfort.
“Sis, what’s this smell? Do you think there’s a rogue here?”
Lydia’s eyes arched, instantly recognising the mockery. She cleared her throat.
Blossom’s hand pressed into the table. Her stiff smile masked the tremor.
She was from rogue territory. It was natural to feel slight discomfort.
Instinctively, a few guests seated around her shifted uncomfortably.
“Rogues’ scent is distinctive. Not all of them smell bad.”
My head whipped instantly toward the sound.
Zadekiah lounged in a dangerously seductive slouch, one finger lazily circling the rim of his glass.
He stilled, as though feeling the weight of my stare.
His grey eyes lifted slowly, trailing from my waist upward until they locked onto mine with a magnetic force. A low hum of awareness rippled through me.
"And that was no way to treat the daughter of the Chaldean Chief." He tilted his head, daring me to speak.
The Chaldeans were the head of the rogues. How was Blossom his daughter?
This was going to be even harder than I thought.
But challenge— accepted.
I curved my lips into a deliberate smile and stepped closer to the table, fingers brushing the smooth cloth as I leaned in, red hair cascading over one shoulder.
“Then, Your Highness, would you mind educating this humble servant?”
“Hmm?” I urged calmly.
He arched a single brow, dark curiosity swirling in those stormy depths. Lifting the glass to his lips, he murmured. "Interesting."
- Writer
