Page 203 of Moonlit Fate

“Symbols of your heritage?” Her question was a whisper, almost lost in the vastness of the room.

“Not mine.” I shook my head. “Crimson Fang’s legacy.”

She pulled at the rich fabrics, the reds and golds shimmering under her touch. “It’s not your bed in the den, but it looks comfortable,” she said, a half-smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

“Comfort isn’t something I’m used to,” I admitted.

“Maybe it’s time you try,” she suggested, looking up from the fur throw.

“Maybe.” We both knew comfort wasn’t a luxury either of us could afford right now.

I moved to the grand fireplace that dominated the wall, the heat brushing against my skin. The flames wavered, offering a veneer of warmth and light, its glow reflecting off the polished surface of the dark wood furniture. Aria lingered a step behind, her gaze lingering on the artifacts lining the mantle.

“There are stories in every corner,” she murmured.

“Stories we don’t have time for,” I added curtly, knowing full well that our own story was being overwritten by forces beyond our control.

Aria nodded, understanding without needing more words. She drifted toward the desk, her fingers tracing the outlines of maps and documents strewn about haphazardly.

“Plans?” she inquired, picking up a map, her brows furrowing as she studied the marked territories.

“I’m always planning,” I admitted. “Can’t afford to do otherwise.”

“Is any of it...” She hesitated, then met my eyes. “Is any of it about us? About what happens next?”

“Partly.” It was the truth. Strategies swirled in my mind, scenarios where I could defy the fate laid out for us. The thin sliver of hope I had waned as I spoke.

“Show me,” she demanded, and I wasn’t inclined to deny her.

“Here,” I said, pointing at a particular map with routes and notes scrawled across it. “Escape routes, supply lines. I’vemanaged to sway some of the Crimson Fang. Not all are willing to stand with Caius. It’s one part of a plant to keep you safe.”

“Keep us safe,” she corrected me.

“Right. Us.” Even as the word left my mouth, I wondered if there truly was an ‘us’ in any future we might have.

Her attention shifted upwards to the bookshelves crammed. Ancient spines whispered tales of magic and power, and I knew they called to her, the same way the wild beckoned me from beyond these walls.

“It looks like powerful stuff,” she said, eyeing the books.

“Knowledge is another kind of strength,” I replied. “It can be a curse.”

“Like everything else in this room,” she concluded with a sigh.

“Yeah,” I said.

I led her to the bathroom, where the rustic charm of the manor continued. The wooden beams overhead met with stone walls and floor, a testament to time and craftsmanship. We stepped into the walk-in shower area, enclosed by glass panels that revealed the stone tiles beneath our feet, cold and smooth from years of wear.

“This shower is another luxury I haven’t quite gotten used to,” I said, gesturing towards the ceiling where the large rainfall showerhead hung, ready to wash away the worries of the world like a forest’s gentle rain.

She nodded, eyes taking in the sight with quiet appreciation. Her gaze then drifted toward the freestanding bathtub by the window. Carved from a single block of marble, it had curves that seemed to call out for a long, restful soak.

Above the tub, the window framed the night sky. Thin curtains fluttered softly like whispers, hinting at the world beyond—stars scattered across the darkness, a natural canopy far removed from the harshness of the life she’d known.

“Clear view tonight,” I commented, following her gaze. “Perfect for stargazing while you’re in there.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she whispered back, lost in the vision of serenity that the room offered.

I led her past the shower and the tub to the double vanity. The stone sinks matched the marble of the bath, all set against the dark wood that was part of these rooms my father had allocated. Above us, an ornate mirror caught the room’s warm light from sconces on either side, throwing it back at us.

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