Page 28 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
Before I can respond, before I can tell her how wrong she is about herself, she turns and walks away. Her stride is steady, her head high. Dignified in her pain in a way that makes my chest hurt.
I should go after her. Should tell her that she’s not broken, that the bond between us has nothing to do with her past or my responsibilities. That it’s my fear, not her worth, that stands in my way.
Instead, I watch her disappear into the darkness, our mate bond thrumming with a sadness so deep it feels like mourning.
I’ve done what I set out to do—maintained my distance, preserved my focus, protected my heart. So, why does it feel like I’ve lost something irreplaceable?
The trees are silent around me, offering no answers. Only the hollow echo of choices I’m no longer sure I have the strength to defend.
Chapter 5
Fiona
I sit on the edge of the balcony, my feet dangling over the side. The cold night air seeps through my thin nightgown, but I don’t go back into my bedroom. The discomfort feels real, tangible—something I can focus on instead of the hollow ache inside me.
It has been three days since Erik told me he doesn’t want our mate bond. Three days since I learned why he’d been avoiding me all that time. Three days of pretending I’m fine while my wolf whimpers inside me, confused and rejected.
The moon bathes the palace grounds in silver light. From this height, I can see the sprawling gardens, the training yards, and the forest beyond. Freedom stretches in every direction. After twenty years in captivity, I should be relishing this open space, this ability to go anywhere, do anything.
Instead, I feel trapped in a different kind of cage—one made of my own broken pieces.
I’ve taken to sleeping out here on the balcony despite the cold. The walls of my bedroom, though beautifully decorated, sometimes close in on me at night. Out here, with the starsspread above me like scattered diamonds, I can breathe. I can remind myself that I’m free.
My wolf stirs restlessly. Ever since Erik helped me shift the other night, I’ve been practicing on my own. The transformation comes more easily now and is less painful each time. I’ve built a tentative connection with the creature inside me, no longer fighting against it but trying to understand it.
My wolf is miserable, though. It knows what I know: our mate doesn’t want us.
I curl my fingers around the stone railing. The rough texture grounds me, pulls me back from my spiraling thoughts. I’ve survived worse. Much worse. This rejection shouldn’t hurt this much.
Yet it does.
Because for a brief moment, when Erik looked at me with something other than pity or distance in his eyes, I believed I might be more than just the broken thing that escaped captivity. That someone might see value in me beyond my tragic past.
I was wrong.
A shiver runs through me, and I finally give in to the cold. After slipping back into my room, I change into warmer clothes. I won’t sleep tonight; I rarely sleep at all anymore. Instead, I decide to walk the gardens. The night guards are used to my nocturnal wanderings by now. They no longer follow me with concerned eyes.
The palace is quiet this late. My footsteps echo softly against the marble as I make my way through grand hallways and down sweeping staircases. I pass a guard who nods respectfully. I nod back, offering a small smile that I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes.
I’ve become good at presenting what others want to see. It’s a survival skill I perfected in captivity. I can tell how people expect me to react, what responses will satisfy them without raisingconcerns. So, I smile when appropriate. I engage in conversation when expected. I feign interest in things that should excite me.
But inside, I feel nothing.
The night air embraces me as I step outdoors. The gardens are different at night—mysterious, serene, safe from curious eyes and pitying glances. I follow a winding path, letting my feet take me where they will.
I don’t realize where I’m heading until I see it—a small clearing with the charred remnants of what was once a cottage. The structure is mostly gone, nothing but blackened beams and crumbling stone walls remaining.
A figure sits on a bench across from the ruins. I recognize Maya’s silhouette immediately. I hesitate, not wanting to intrude on what seems like a private moment. As I turn to leave, her voice stops me.
“Fiona? Don’t go. Come join me.”
Something in her tone makes it impossible for me to refuse. I approach slowly and take a seat beside her on the bench. We sit in silence for a moment, both staring at the burned cottage.
“You must think me strange, sitting out here in the middle of the night.” She laughs lightly.
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head. “You can sit wherever you like.”
She glances at me, slightly amused. “Thanks.”
