Rejected Luna Of The Cursed Alpha

Not Me

Aria's POV

The room was too quiet. I stood by the window long after Mrs. Evelyn left, watching people walk past the gardens. Everyone had a purpose, a task to fulfill.

I didn't.

For the first time since leaving Valemont, there was nothing that made demands of me. No duties as the Luna. No endless ordering. No one to tell me where to go, what to do.

No Leo.

The thought twisted in my gut and I pressed a hand to my heart, turning away from the window. Perhaps I should unpack.

There was little enough to unpack. A few dresses, a shawl, and the small comb Helen had somehow slipped into my possession before I left.

And the tiny knit sock Leo had managed to shed during the ride to the ceremonial hall, with no one bothering to check the carriage after he'd fallen asleep. My fingers curled around the thin wool.

It still smelled faintly of lavender.

Like Leo.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pressing the small sock to my chest. "I hope you're warm," I whispered. My voice cracked on the words and a strange, tight ache bloomed in my breasts.

I froze.

No.

Not again.

The dull pressure returned, as though my body truly believed Leo was close, that he would be here soon. Wetness smeared my cheeks and I blinked rapidly, trying to see past the sting of tears.

It was ridiculous, this all-consuming sense of loss that settled in my bones every time I was parted from him. Even now, even with the distance between us, even with the knowledge that he was safe and sound and happy without me, my heart still clenched with every beat.

As if it, too, believed the separation to be permanent.

I pressed a clean cloth to my skin, washing away the salt, and stared at my reflection in the basin. "You cannot spend every day crying," I told the woman who looked back at me.

She didn't look convinced.

There was a knock at the door. A hesitant knock, as if the person on the other side were unsure whether or not they were interrupting something.

I hastily wiped at my cheeks before opening the door. A young woman stood there, balancing a small wooden box in her hands. She couldn't have been much older than me, a few strands of dark hair had escaped the braid over her shoulder.

She smiled nervously. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

She lifted the box slightly. "I came to take your measurements so I can prepare a few dresses for you."

"Oh," I said.

"My sister has mentioned you, and I saw that you did not come with a chest," she said with a laugh. "Mrs. Evelyn, that is, she’s my sister.” Another laugh. "I know we look different." Her eyes met mine. "Sorry, I am anxious, I am still learning designing so you will be my muse if you don’t mind.”

I had to smile at that. "Thank you. I don’t mind.”

"My name is Nora."

"I'm Aria."

"I know," she said, and the look of horror on her face was almost comical. "I mean, James told us your name," Nora hastened to explain. "Not that everyone is talking about you, per say." She paused. "Although, everyone is talking about you."

I laughed, startled. I like this one.

It was a genuine laugh and both of us were surprised by it.

Nora grinned. "There, see?

"Now what?"

"A smile."

"I was smiling."

"No," she said, shaking her head dramatically. "You were being polite."

I found myself laughing again.

She was impossible not to like.

I stepped aside. "Would you like to come in? I'd appreciate the company."

She swept inside, looking around the room with interest. "It's a nice room, at least."

"You live in the castle?"

"Yes, my father manages the castle bakery," she said proudly. "I help him out when I can."

"You enjoy it?"

"I enjoy eating more than baking," she admitted, and I laughed.

"You are very honest."

"My father says it's my greatest flaw."

"I think it's refreshing."

Nora beamed at me. For a while, we spoke of inconsequential things. Nora told me about the castle bakery, about the time she'd burned a whole tray of bread in her first week on the job, and how everyone still teased her about it.

I listened, fascinated.

It was strange, hearing someone speak of everyday things, of simple, mundane worries that had nothing to do with the Luna or politics or betrayal.

"You'll find something to do," Nora said, pausing in her story to take a bite of bread. I hadn't realized she'd brought bread in her small box.

She gasped when she realized what she'd done. "Oh no!"

I looked at her. "You've been through so much and I'm stealing the lunch I brought for you."

I laughed. "Please”

"You don't mind? I've barely touched it."

She looked relieved. "Good." She took another bite, then set the bread down on my lap. "You look like someone who hates sitting still."

I blinked at her. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little," she said with a smile.

"Everyone here works."

"I'd like to work," I admitted.

"What can you do?"

The question startled me. "I..." What could I do? "I cleaned," I said wistfully. "I cooked. I looked after children. I took care of the sick when I could."

Nora nodded. "The herb gardens always need help, I sometimes work there."

"I know nothing of herbs," I said.

"Neither did I," she admitted. "You learn."

Her words settled deep in my bones. Perhaps that was what I needed. To learn something new. To become someone new.

Nora stood, she brought out her tape measure, so I stood too as she took my measurements. After she was done with that. "I'll come by tomorrow," she said.

"Okay, thank you Nora," I said.

She replied with a smile.

After she left, the room felt strangely empty. I found myself back at the window, watching the people in the gardens below. Several workers moved among the rows of herbs, but one older man suddenly paused in his work.

He pressed a hand to his chest and paled.

A strange sensation gripped me, something like a wave of fear rolling over my shoulders. It stole my breath and made my heart pound in my ears. My hands shook and I gripped the windowsill, steadying myself.

The feeling was wrong and intrusive, and I knew with sudden certainty that it wasn't my own.

There was nothing to fear here.

Nothing at all.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the wave ebbed away. I blinked, staring down at the man in the garden. He was still, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked around, his face pale.

Then he frowned as something strange flickered across his features.

He frowned, not at me, but at something close to him.

And then I noticed he was the one who had the fear, not me.