Lila
By the next morning, I wasn’t just recovering, I was reentering.
Word had spread quickly through the palace that I would be returning to the selection. Not everyone said it out loud, but I saw it in the way people looked at me—like I was a ghost they hadn’t expected to see again.
Some with respect. Some with wariness. A few with thinly veiled irritation.
But none of that mattered. Because I wasn’t returning out of duty, or fear, or pressure from my father. I was doing it for myself, even if I wasn’t ready to share who I really was.
And I wasn’t going to fade into the background again.
The ceremony assignment came that morning, hand-delivered with a clipped nod from a steward. A formal function to welcome visiting Alphas and foreign dignitaries. A quiet test of poise, compos
