My Luna Mother Ruined Me For Her Favorite—So I Chose The Rogue King Chapter 07
Within half a day, the Blackwood pack house was torn apart from the inside out.
My father gave the orders himself.
Every soul who had shorted my clothes, my herbs, my training resources over the years was hauled out one by one. Those to be exiled were exiled. Those to be thrown into the dungeons were thrown into the dungeons. Anyone who had ever done Celeste’s bidding, anyone who had ever covered for her—not one of them slipped through.
Celeste was locked in her own room.
She was no longer the chosen Luna about to enter the Royal Pack. No longer the girl my mother had held up as more suited to stand beside the Crown Prince. My father refused to adopt her. The Royal Pack pulled its approval. Every title she had schemed her way toward—gone. In a single night.
Rowan’s healer cleaned my wounds.
The wolfsbane and silver ash had burned deep into the flesh. When the medicine hit, the pain almost cracked my teeth apart. I didn’t make a sound.
Beyond the door, everything was still.
I knew Rowan was there.
He didn’t come in. He didn’t rush. He only made the healer check, again and again, that I was still awake. Every time the pain scattered my mind, his voice would come from beyond the door, low and rough.
“Keep going. Don’t let her pass out.”
It was cold as a command. But somewhere deep inside me, my wolf quieted at the sound.
When it was over, they changed me into soft, clean clothes, and I lay on my stomach on the bed.
Not long after, my father pushed the door open, carrying a small plate of chestnut honey cakes still steaming from the oven.
“Rowan had them sent up.”
He set the plate beside my hand. His voice was quiet.
“He said you’d mentioned once that you liked them.”
I picked one up.
The scent of chestnut and honey bloomed into the air. I took a bite, and my eyes prickled without warning.
My father watched me in silence.
“I didn’t even know you liked chestnuts.”
I lowered my eyes.
Because Celeste was allergic to them.
From the year she came to Blackwood, not a single chestnut dish had appeared in the pack house again. The kitchens didn’t dare bake with them. The servants didn’t dare buy them. Even the chestnuts sent up in autumn were passed straight to the outer courtyards.
I never told anyone I liked them.
There was no point in telling.
My father reached out and brushed the top of my head—so gently it was as though he were afraid of hurting me.
“All of this today. You waited until I came back to bring it into the open, didn’t you?”
I didn’t deny it.
“Do you think I’m being too calculating?”
“My poor girl.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m only thinking about how far they must have pushed you, to force you to plan every single step.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes were full of a tenderness he couldn’t keep out of them.
“Your mother and I spent years on the border. We learned to calculate because it kept us alive. Because it kept the pack alive. But you—you had to learn it inside your own home.”
He paused. His voice dropped lower.
“You didn’t hurt anyone. You only fought to survive.”
Something in my throat closed up so hard I couldn’t breathe.
My father went on. “The servants who shorted your things. The apothecary that refused you medicine. The training grounds that gave you the broken gear. The kitchen that sent Celeste’s leftovers to your room. Every last piece of it—I know now.”
He glanced toward the door.
“Your mother knows too.”
I didn’t say anything.
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “She’s just outside. Do you want to see her?”
My fingers tightened.
And that was when it hit me—since that night, I hadn’t heard her thoughts once.
The blood-link I’d believed had existed from the day I was born—somewhere along the way, it had shattered clean.
No echo.
No warmth.
No her.
My father spoke, very low. “If you don’t want to see her, you don’t have to. If you hate her—if you want me to strip her of her Luna authority—I won’t stand in your way.”
I knew he had known her since they were young. That they had held the border together for years. The blood they had spilled shoulder to shoulder, the winters they had frozen through together—those things didn’t dissolve overnight.
But I no longer had the strength to make anyone else whole.
I turned my face away. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for whoever stood beyond the door.
“I don’t want to see her.”
For a long time, there was no sound from the hallway.