Estelle D'Mirra
Sunlight slips through the curtains and lands on my face. It's warm, too warm. I groan softly and blink a few times, my eyes struggling to adjust. The room is bright, golden light spilling across the floor in little shapes and lines.
I lift my hand to block it and squint toward the window. It's too bright outside.
What time is it?
The bed next to me is empty.
Of course it is.
He didn't come to our chambers last night. I don't know where he slept. Or if he even slept at all.
A sigh escapes before I can stop it. I drag a hand down my face, the skin under my eyes tender from crying. The sheets are cold beside me. His scent of cedar and smoke still lingers faintly, but it's fading.
Everything about us feels like it's fading.
I push myself up, the blanket falling off my shoulders. The floor doesn't feel as cold as it felt last night under my feet. I reach for my robe hanging by the bedpost, tying it around my waist as I move to the mirror.
The person staring at me in the mirror doesn't quite feel like me.
My eyes are puffy, my lips pale, my hair tangled. There's this tiredness on my face that feels older than me.
After washing the tiredness off my face as much as I can, brushing my teeth and making myself presentable, I leave the room quietly, hoping the house is still half asleep. But sure it isn't. Servants are already moving around, their arms full of bread and linens. They bow when I pass, murmuring "Luna", their eyes darting away quickly after. I wish they wouldn't look at me like that, like they already know what's wrong.
I follow the smell of food to the kitchen.
There's laughter inside. Light and warm.
And then I see her.
Kaelen's mother. Standing tall beside the kitchen counter, her silver hair perfectly pinned. She's holding a cup of tea, smiling down at Meriel — Kaelen's brother's wife — who's got her little boy perched on her hip. He's laughing, clutching at his mother's necklace, while she strokes his hair with such affection it makes my chest ache.
I don't want to ruin the moment. I almost turn around. But I can't make myself leave, so I just say quietly, "Good morning."
The laughter fades just as my voice slithers into the kitchen.
Mother looks up. Her eyes land on me, linger for half a second, then move away. "Not so morning anymore, child," she says. Her voice is calm. Flat. "You're awake late today."
"I wasn't feeling well, mother," I say, forcing a small smile. "Where's Kaelen?"
Her lips curve slightly in distaste as if she doesn't like it when I asked for my husband. "Where he should be," comes her reply, just as cold as the way she's looking at me. "He's gone to the pack house at the break of dawn. Some of us don't have the luxury of sleeping through the morning."
Meriel looks down quickly, bouncing Kai on her hip. She looks uncomfortable hearing mothers snarly remarks.
"I didn't—" I start, but Mother cuts me off, still smiling faintly.
"The Goddess rewards effort," she says, tearing a piece of bread with her fingers. "Not the irresponsible ones who pity themselves."
Her words cut right through my heart, its ache almost tangible. It feels hard to breathe. "I've done everything I can," I choke out.
"Have you?" she says softly. "Then perhaps you were never meant to bear an Alpha's heir. The Goddess chooses wisely." Her gaze slides over me like she's looking at something broken as if I'm broken.
It's as if a thousand needles are piercing into my skin, her words are so cruel. She's so cruel. What did I ever do to her for her to treat me like this?
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, tasting blood, refusing to give her the satisfaction of watching me cry.
So I turn away, walking off.
Behind me, her voice follows, gentle as silk:
"Don't walk away when someone is speaking to you."
But I don't stop. I can't.
The air in the room feels too heavy to breathe in.
Outside, the sunlight burns against my skin. The world is quiet except for the birds, and I let myself breathe again — once, twice — before my eyes sting with tears I won't let fall.
☘️
The breeze drifts in, soft and cool, carrying the faint scent of earth. I sit on the balcony ledge, knees pulled close to my chest, staring at the fading light.
"Estelle." Kaelen's voice calls softly from the doorway.
I don't move.
"I heard you weren't feeling well." He sounds somewhat concerned but I do not want to care.
"I'm fine," I reply, keeping my gaze on the courtyard below.
"You don't sound fine." He steps closer, boots barely making a sound.
I shrug, silent.
"I wasn't able to come home for lunch today," he says, leaning against the railing beside me. "The pack needed me at the council, and it ran longer than I expected. Did you eat?"
"Yes," I mumble.
"Good," he says softly. There's a pause, just long enough to make the silence heavy. "I should've checked sooner."
I finally look at him. His hair is messy from the day, the edges of his collar damp from the council house heat. His dark eyes hold concern, steady and unwavering.
Maybe he can see it in my face, he heaves out a sigh, looking away for a moment before he moves his eyes back to me. "About last night." He starts, "I was completely out of it. And I didn't want to make it worse by coming to the chamber. Thought you needed the space."
I huff out a laugh tinged with disbelief, eyebrow scrunching.
"If anything I wanted you to come." I say, holding his gaze. "I wanted you to hold me and tell me it's me that you want that you were not going to take in any more wives or concubines."
"Oh, Elle." He reaches forward, fingers wrapping over the back of my neck, warming my skin. "I only want you."
He seals it with a kiss on my lips.