A sour Twist.
1136 Words
Luna’s POV
The garden was peaceful, nestled behind the eastern wing of the palace. It felt like my own little sanctuary. Ronan had arranged for it to be built just for me after our mating ceremony, a space where I could cultivate herbs and flowers without anyone bothering me. The council didn’t like that I spent so much time there. They believed a Luna should be seen rather than hidden away, playing in the dirt.
But I ignored their opinions.
I wiped my hands on my apron and bent down to examine a plant stem, but my mind wandered. I couldn’t help but think about Ronan—how tight his jaw had been lately, the lengthy meetings, and the heavy silence he brought home.
Something was off, and he was keeping it from me.
I stood up straight, feeling a sudden urgency.
I had to see him.
Leaving my tools behind, I walked out of the garden and made my way inside. The palace corridors felt all too familiar, yet today they seemed longer and eerily quiet. Servants bowed as I went by, quickly averting their gazes. I noticed it but brushed it off as my imagination.
Our chambers were empty when I stepped in. I hurriedly bathed, scrubbing the dirt off my arms and hands, and changed into a simple dress. But the unease just wouldn’t go away. If anything, it got stronger.
Ronan’s study was down the hall from his office, and I figured that’s where I’d find him. As I got closer, I heard voices.
I slowed down.
Ronan’s voice came first—low and controlled, but there was a sharp edge to it.
“She is my mate.” Ronan warned. “You will not speak about her like that.”
Another voice answered—a male one, calm but too calm for my liking.
“You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment, my king. All evidence points to her.”
My breath caught in my throat.
Evidence of what?
I crept a little closer, trying to stay silent. My heart was racing.
“There is no evidence,” Ronan snapped. “Only speculation, gossip, and desperation. That’s not proof.”
“You can’t ignore the recording,” the man insisted. “And the timing. The beta dies, and suddenly everyone has questions about the child. You need to think like a king, not just a husband.”
My hand instinctively went to my stomach.
The child.
Eli.
I pushed the door open.
Both men turned to me. Ronan’s eyes widened for a moment before softening. The other man—one of the senior council advisors—stiffened.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Why are you talking about me?”
Ronan moved quickly. “Baby, this isn’t—”
“I heard my name,” I interjected. “And I heard something about evidence. You can’t just brush that off.”
The advisor opened his mouth to speak, but Ronan raised a hand decisively. “Leave us.”
“My king—”
“Now.”
The man bowed and left without another word. The door shut behind him, leaving us in silence.
Ronan turned to me, his face a mask of calm. Too calm.
“Did the flowers bloom yet?”
I shook my head. “No. Don’t change the subject. What’s going on?”
“There are rumors,” he said carefully. “Ugly ones.”
“What kind of rumors?” I asked, my voice shaky.
He sighed. “They’re saying Marcus’s death wasn’t natural.”
The name hit me like a blow.
Marcus. Ronan’s beta. His best friend.
I swallowed hard. “He was sick. Everyone knew that.”
“They’re questioning your involvement in his treatment.”
My stomach twisted.
“Me,” I whispered.
Ronan nodded. “They’re claiming you poisoned him.”
The room felt like it was spinning.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said immediately. “I tried to save him. You know that.”
“I do,” Ronan said firmly.
“Then why—” I paused, thoughts racing. “Why would anyone think that?”
He hesitated for a moment.
“Ronan,” I pressed.
“They’re saying Marcus believed Eli was his son,” he said quietly. “That the two of you were involved.”
The words didn’t sink in at first. When they did, it felt like a slap in the face.
I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Ronan’s jaw clenched. “I wish it were.”
“This is just a cruel prank,” I said. “Someone’s trying to mess with us.”
He slowly shook his head. “There’s a recording.”
Ice coursed through my veins.
He crossed the room and picked up a small device from his desk. When he turned it on, voices filled the air.
My voice.
Marcus’s voice.
The argument sounded so real, heated, and accusatory. Marcus claimed the child was his, while I denied it.
I felt nauseous.
“That’s not real,” I whispered when it stopped. “I never said those things. I swear, Ronan, I never—”
“I know,” he said instantly, stepping closer. “I believe you.”
I looked up at him, desperation in my eyes. “You really do?”
“Yes,” he said without a moment's pause. “I trust you. I know you didn’t do this.”
Tears stung my eyes.
He pulled me into his arms, holding me until my shaking began to calm down.
“I’ll find out who did this,” he promised. “And they will pay.”
I nodded, gripping him tightly.
He led me back to our chambers. “You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I would rather not be alone,” I admitted.
“You won’t be,” he said softly. “I’ll be close by.”
He kissed my forehead and left.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
A maid stood there, her eyes cast down. “My Luna… the king has asked to see you in his office.”
Confusion washed over me. “He just left.”
She hesitated. “He said it was time-sensitive.”
Panic tightened my chest.
I followed her.
Stepping into the office, I found Ronan standing rigid by the desk. No smile this time.
“The council has decided,” he said.
Dread settled deep in my bones. “What decision?”
“They want Marcus’s body exhumed,” he said. “It’s been two months, but they’re bringing in an outside doctor to determine the cause of death.”
The words echoed in my mind.
Exhumed.
Doctor.
Cause of death.
- Writer
