Rejected Luna Of The Cursed Alpha

Who Is Your Mother

The journey to the king's place seemed to take much longer than the one from Valemont.

The guards walked some steps ahead of me without a single word. His stance was upright, his stride slow, and once in a while, he would look back over his shoulder to check on me.

I wonder whether he was equally curious like everybody else.

The festive place was almost deserted. Men were dismantling the last lot of lanterns while some other men were sweeping away the petals of flowers on the stone path. Gone were the laughs of the night; all there remained was the quiet talks and sounds of the wooden stalls being taken apart.

Further into the pack, we saw people observing us.

Actually, it should be said that they were watching me. Women holding baskets interrupted their conversation mid-sentence.

Two warriors stopped in the process of sharpening their swords.

An old couple looked at me, then at the guard who escorted me, whispered to one another, and exchanged some glances.

I looked away.

It was hard not to feel it.

A few days ago, I came as an outsider.

This evening, I became a topic for discussion of the whole village. But not because they recognized me. Just because they didn't.

It gave me an unpleasant feeling.

I had come here with the thought that I would be unnoticed and I would do anything and everything to make it so.

I had been doing everything to remain unnoticed.

Now I seemed unable to do it.

Several minutes later, we got to the King's palace. The guard stopped before the door and knocked twice.

"Your Majesty."

"Come in."

His familiar deep voice reached my ears.

The guard opened the door and stepped aside for me to enter the room. Just for a moment I hesitated and then went inside.

The smell of cedarwood and parchment filled the room.

One wall was entirely covered in books. Near the windows was a large desk with documents on it that looked organized. The sunlight flooded through the windows, and the room felt unexpectedly warm, making me realize I hadn't really looked at the room when I arrived newly.

King Draven was near the window with half of his back facing me.

Unlike at the festival when he wore all his royal robes, King Draven looked different.

Less intimidating.

And more human.

He turned and saw me, but his face stayed the same. "Thank you for coming," he said.

I lowered my head in respect. "You have summoned me, Your Majesty."

"Yes, I did." His voice didn't sound sharp.

On the contrary, it sounded almost gentle. This made me feel even more anxious.

I looked around the room but then realized we were not alone.

The old woman who looked at me like and said I had my mother’s eyes sat by the fireplace. Beside her was the chief healer. Their expressions were calm and attentive.

The old woman looked at me again.

Her eyes were the same as that day.

Not surprised this time but recognizing still.

As if she were looking at my face for something she had once lost. I began to feel my heart racing.

Did we meet before?

I could not remember.

Draven motioned to a chair. "Please."

I sat down, straightening my dress to calm down my shaking hands. There were some moments of silence. It was not awkward.

It was thoughtful. Like everybody in the room knew that this discussion was important. Or were they going to send me away?

Fear crept up my skin.

Finally, Draven broke the silence. "Aria."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I would like you to explain to me what happened tonight."

I blinked. "I..."

Draven raised his hand to stop me from speaking. "Not what everybody else saw." His gaze held mine. "But what you experienced."

I looked down at my hands in my lap. For the first time since the festival had ended, I tried to remember every detail as it had happened.

Not how others had perceived things, but how I had felt. "I saw him," I started softly. "That young warrior. He seemed..." I struggled to describe it. "Lost."

Draven did not interrupt me.

"He growled, but..." I shook my head again. "It didn't feel like he wanted to attack anybody."

The head healer leaned in closer. "How do you mean that?"

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "I don't know how to explain it." I looked around from one face to another. "It felt like he was trapped."

Silence fell.

Why these words had fallen from my lips, I did not know.

But it was the truth.

Others had seen an aggressive wolf. I had seen someone suffering. "I wanted him to stop hurting," I breathed quietly. "I was not thinking of myself. And not of anybody else either."

My fingers nervously rubbed against each other. "I just... I wanted him to stop."

I stared down at my hand, "My hand, It was not a deliberate action on my part. I did not even realize what I was doing. When he looked at me..." I gulped. "It was..." Words eluded me again. "Different."

Draven finally spoke up. "Different how?"

I looked apologetic towards him. "I wish I knew. I have been trying to figure it out ever since it happened. It was almost as though..." I paused. "No."

"Why not?"

I sighed. "It sounds ridiculous."

"Speak regardless."

I nodded. "It was as though I could hear him."

The silence became so pronounced that one could hear the fire burning next to us.

"I am not saying voices, Your Majesty," I hastily clarified myself. "I heard no voices. It was almost as though..."I put my hand on my heart. "I could feel what he was feeling."

The healer and the old woman shared a glance.

None of them said a thing.

"Panic." I closed my eyes, recollecting the experience. "Much panic. Then fear. But he was not angry. He was terrified." My eyes snapped open again. "It was like he transferred his fear to me." The words sounded strange out loud, but it felt so good to be able to share my experience with someone else.

Especially him.

"I am so sorry. I understand that you don't believe me." I glanced from one person to the other.

"No." Draven's response was instant.

I blinked.

"You go on."

I took another deep breath. "When I raised my hand, I wasn't trying to stop his wolf. I wasn't trying to do anything. The only thing that I remember wishing for was for him to be able to breathe."

Silence settled between us.

It felt more heavy than before.

The older lady slowly stood up from her seat.

Each of her movements seemed deliberate and thoughtful. She stopped in front of me. "May I?" she asked quietly.

I glanced down at the hand that she was looking at.

For some strange reason, I put it into her hands.

They were warm.

Roughened by time.

She clasped my hand in her palms and closed her eyes.

Nothing happened.

Well, nothing that I could see.

Draven was watching her.

And so was the healer.

Almost a minute later, the breathing of the old lady was different.

Uneven.

Her eyebrows came closer.

And then Very slowly Her eyes were opening.

They had moisture.

No tears.

She looked at me like she was seeing the person who was absent for so many years.

"My goodness…" she whispered.

The room waited.

Then she asked, "Who is your mother?”