Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 33

Estella

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. I stood with my back pressed against the cool stone wall, my body rigid, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Kyros leaned back against the pillows, his eyes unseeing as he gazed at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Jesa's methodical movements and the rustle of bandages were the only sounds that broke the tense quiet.

I gritted my teeth, my mind replaying the moment Kyros had held me, the warmth of his embrace still lingering on my skin like a brand. I could almost feel the outline of his fingers on my waist, the gentle pressure of his chest against my back. I had been so content, so safe in his arms. For a fleeting moment, I had allowed myself to forget the pain, the grief, the fear that had haunted me for so long.

Then, the memory flooded back. The brush of his nose against my neck had triggered a cascade of horrifying images, a flashback to that dreadful day in the Elorian throne room. It wasn't Kyros's gentle touch I felt, but the rough, possessive grip of Raedon. It was Raedon's hot breath on my skin, his nose running up my neck, his teeth nipping my ear. It was his cruel laughter echoing in my ears as he held me to him, his hands stained with the blood of my family.

A wave of nausea washed over me, and I had to fight the urge to retch. The scent of blood, of violence, of betrayal, filled my nostrils, a suffocating reminder of the trauma I had endured.

The metallic scent of blood, his scent of burning citrus, filled my nostrils, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I had inhaled deeply, trying to ground myself with Kyros's cedarwood scent, the warm, spicy aroma that clung to his skin. But it was too late. The memories had already flooded back, the trauma of that day, the feeling of Raedon's hands on me, his scent invading my senses, his cruelty a suffocating presence.

He had sensed my fear, the sudden shift in my scent, and instantly released me. I wanted to scream, to tell him it wasn't him I feared, that it was the ghost of his brother that haunted me. But the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes, the belief that I was repulsed by him, silenced me.

Just as I reached for him, to explain, to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between us, Jesa entered the room, her presence shattering the fragile moment, sealing the misunderstanding that now hung heavy in the air.

I felt a surge of frustration, a desperate need to explain, to reassure Kyros that my fear was not directed at him, but at the phantom of his brother that still haunted my memories. But the words wouldn't come, trapped by the lump in my throat, by the fear of further rejection, of deepening the misunderstanding.

"Interesting," Jesa mused, her gaze fixed on Kyros's torso, her brow furrowed in concentration. I snapped my head towards the healer, my eyes wide with surprise. Kyros, too, was startled, his hand instinctively going to the wound on his side. But to his astonishment, there was no trace of it, no scar, no blemish. Just smooth, unmarred skin.

"Is that... normal?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I couldn't believe my eyes. Had the wound truly healed so quickly, so completely? It had been deep, the dagger twisting cruelly.

Jesa ignored my question; her attention focused solely on Kyros. "Your Highness," she began, her voice formal, "when you received the scar on your brow..."

Kyros tensed, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. I stifled a growl. I couldn't believe the healer's audacity, her blunt questions that seemed to pry into his deepest secrets, his past traumas.

"Did you not clean the wound? How long did it take to heal? Was it severe?" Jesa continued, her voice relentless, oblivious to the tension in the room. Each question was a dagger, piercing Kyros's heart, reopening old wounds, the memories of his torture at the hands of his own brother. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding mine, his shame and vulnerability palpable.

My hand instinctively flew to Kyros's arm, a gesture of comfort and protection. "Jesa," I snarled, my temper flaring, my voice laced with a warning that made the healer finally pause. I knew exactly how he had gotten that scar, the memory of Raedon's cruelty a fresh wound in my own heart.

Jesa blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Your Majesty?" she questioned, her voice hesitant. "I am merely trying to understand the extent of his healing abilities."

"I understand," I said, my voice softening slightly, though my grip on Kyros's arm remained firm. "But some wounds run deeper than flesh and bone.” His hand gripped mine in thanks before he spoke.

"It wasn't as severe as this one," Kyros said, raising his left arm to reveal a jagged scar that ran from his armpit to the crook of his elbow. "Both were inflicted at the same time," he explained, his voice tight with suppressed emotion, "both tended to by the best healers in my grandfather's castle."

My heart clenched at the sight of the scar, a stark reminder of the torture Kyros had endured, the pain he had suffered. I reached out, my fingers gently tracing the raised flesh, my touch a silent offering of comfort and apology.

Jesa, her brow furrowed in concentration, poked at Kyros's healed side once more. "Interesting," she murmured, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Speak plainly, Jesa," I warned, my patience wearing thin. Her cryptic pronouncements were starting to grate on my nerves.

Jesa finally met my gaze. "Well,” she said, her voice trailing off as she studied the two of us. Her eyes widened slightly as if realizing something before her expression clearing. She cleared her throat, “Your ability to heal seems to have gotten stronger,” she added her eyes falling from mine.

"How is that possible?" Kyros asked, his brow creased in confusion.

Jesa's gaze shifted between Kyros and me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "That, Your Highness," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is not my place to say." And with that, she gathered her things and swiftly exited the room, leaving a thick silence in her wake.

Kyros's and my eyes met, a silent conversation passing between us. My cheeks flushed, a wave of heat creeping up my neck. Jesa's words, her knowing smile, hinted at something I wasn't ready to acknowledge, a truth that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I averted my gaze and moved towards the bundle Jesa had brought, busying myself with unpacking the fresh bandages and salves. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the implications of Kyros's rapid healing. Was it truly a sign of the Goddess's favor?

"Here," I said, my voice soft, "I had Jesa bring you some fresh clothes. Once you're dressed, I can show you to your room." I handed Kyros the clothes, my fingers brushing against his, a spark igniting where they touched, a jolt of energy that sent shivers down my spine. I quickly turned away, giving him privacy to change, my heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

"My room?" Kyros's voice was filled with concern. "I have to get back to my mother," he said, the rustle of fabric filling the silence as he pulled on the tunic. "I can't leave her with him."

My heart clenched. I knew the danger Kyros's family posed, the threat that loomed over them all. "I understand," I said, my voice laced with worry. "But the shimmer..." I ran a hand through my hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed my anxiety.

"I didn't think about the consequences when I had Lynx open the brambles to get you. The effort... it drained her." I turned to face Kyros, who was now lacing up his boots. "She's the only one who can open it, Kyros. My mother is too weak." My voice cracked, and I tugged at my hair, my panic rising. "Lynx is too weak right now. I pushed her too far."

I let out a broken cry of anguish, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt and fear. "I am so sorry," I sobbed, my hands clutching at my hair. "I was selfish and reckless. I didn't think, I just..." I took a deep, shuddering breath, my eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

Finally, I lifted my gaze to meet his, my eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don't want to keep you from her, Kyros," I whispered, my voice raw with emotion. "I don't want to be the reason she is lost to you."

He moved to stand, stopping a few steps away, his hand hovering over my shoulder. "Selfish?" he asked, incredulous. "If you hadn't have done that, I would have died. Raedon was going to kill me."

His words, spoken with such sincerity, such conviction, pierced through the fog of my despair. I looked at him, my heart aching with a mixture of love and gratitude.

I let out a low growl, my eyes flashing with anger. "He was a marked male before that, but now..." I trailed off, my voice filled with a dark fury. The thought of what could have happened, the nearness of death, sent a shiver down my spine. Raedon had tried to kill Kyros, his own brother. The thought shouldn’t be a surprise considering what happen to… I shook off the though, pushing it from my mind.

“Come on,” I said, motioning for the door.

I led Kyros down the moonstone corridors of the palace, my footsteps echoing softly on the smooth floor. We stopped before an intricately carved wooden door, its dark wood gleaming in the soft moonlight that filtered through the arched windows.

"Here you are," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I avoided Kyros's gaze; my cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. The intimacy of the moment, the knowledge that I was leading him to my private chambers, sent a flutter of nervousness through me.

"No one will disturb you here," I continued, my voice gaining confidence. "This wing... servants and guards rarely venture this far."

"They're that afraid of having an Elorian Prince in their midst?" Kyros asked, his voice laced with amusement.

My blush deepened, and I glanced towards the door across the hall, the door that led to my own chambers. "No," I admitted, my fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the wooden door. "They're afraid of me." I met his gaze, my violet eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and defiance. "This is my wing," I explained, gesturing towards my own door. "The Queen's wing. It's... off-limits. No one is allowed here."

The room I had given him sat across the hall from my own, a relic from a time when kings and queens didn't marry for love, when consorts were chosen for political alliances and the preservation of bloodlines. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. Here we were, two souls bound by a love that defied the boundaries of our worlds yet separated by the traditions and expectations of our societies.

Kyros's smile softened, and he reached out to gently touch my arm. "Estella," he said, his voice a low rumble of reassurance.

My heart fluttered at his touch, at the warmth in his eyes. I longed to reach for him, to lean into his embrace, to lose myself in the comfort of his presence. There was so much we needed to discuss, so much to explain, so much to understand. But I couldn't bring myself to burst the tranquility of the moment, the fragile peace that had settled over us after the tumultuous events of the past few days.

"Dinner is in about half an hour," I said, my voice regaining its composure, though a tremor of nervousness still lingered beneath the surface. "You are welcome to join us, if you feel up to it."

"I'd like that," Kyros replied, a small smile gracing his lips. "Thank you, Estella."

"There should be some more clothes in the armoire," I said, gesturing towards the intricately carved wooden wardrobe that stood against the wall. "I didn't know your size, so it may not fit, but..." I trailed off, my cheeks flushing with a sudden shyness.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Kyros assured me, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I nodded, a small smile gracing my lips, but he couldn’t see it beneath my mask. "I'll come get you when it's time," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, I turned and slipped through the door to my chambers, leaving Kyros alone with his thoughts and the lingering warmth of our touch.

As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against the cool wood, my heart pounding in my chest.