Chapter 18: Agony

The sound of footsteps echoed harshly in the cobbled alleyways of the capital as Rosaline ran, her breaths short and ragged, her chest burning with a pain far deeper than exhaustion.

She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care.

Tears blurred her vision. The streets, once vibrant and full of life, was now nothing but a blur of shadows and flickering lanterns. She stumbled, her legs giving out beneath her as she collapsed beside a closed apothecary stall, her palms scraping against the rough stones.

"Rosie!" Ciara called behind her, panting as she finally caught up. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, wrapping her arms around her trembling form.

"I… I didn't know it was him, Ciara," Rosaline whispered, her voice hollow. "The king. The one that everyone seems to care and talk about."

Ciara held her tighter, resting her chin on Rosaline's shoulder. "I know, Rosie. I know. And you didn't do anything wrong. You just followed your heart."

Rosaline shook her head. "It was supposed to be a blessing… meeting your mate. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. He looked at me like… like I was a mistake he regretted the second he kissed me."

Ciara's expression turned fierce. "He's a coward, Rosie. A damn king who hides behind his title and pride. He doesn't deserve you. The Moon Goddess gave him a gift, and he spat on it."

Rosaline let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded like a sob. "You know the worst part? For a moment, just a moment… I thought I felt safe. Like everything in my life had been leading to that kiss. Like my soul had finally come home."

Ciara closed her eyes briefly, heart aching. "I felt it too, Rosie. The pull between you two...it was real. I could see it, feel it. He felt it too, I know he did."

"Then why did he reject me?" she whispered.

"Maybe he's scared," Ciara said simply. "Some men, no matter how powerful, fear vulnerability. You rattled something in him that he can't control. And men like him? They hate not being in control."

Rosaline drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I don't want to go back to the inn. I don't want to see the walls, or my dress supplies, or… or anything."

Ciara stood and gently tugged Rosaline to her feet. "Then we'll find somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. There's a little garden near the Temple of the moon goddess, remember? Let's sit there until you feel better."

Rosaline nodded weakly, letting Ciara guide her.

They walked in silence through the sleeping capital, the hush of the night wrapping around them like a shroud. When they reached the temple gardens, the moon hung low and full in the sky, casting silver light across the marble statues and glistening fountain.

They sat on a stone bench, the scent of night roses lingering in the air.

Rosaline stared up at the moon. "Do you think she made a mistake?"

Ciara glanced at her. "The Moon Goddess?"

"Yes. Do you think she got it wrong....choosing him for me?"

Ciara shook her head. "I don't think she makes mistakes, Rosie. But I do think people can ruin what she's given.

He's blind right now, caught in whatever power struggle he thinks he's fighting. But you? You're still the gift."

Rosaline didn't respond, just watched the stars flicker across the sky.

Ciara hesitated, then said softly, "If you want to go back home tomorrow, I'll understand. We don't have to stay in the capital. We've gotten everything for Lysandra's gown."

Rosaline gave a sad smile. "We came all this way for the fabric… for her ridiculous gown.

"And to think the gown will be worn just for his birthday".

" Well, I'm not giving up on my dreams because of him."

Ciara's lips curved in a proud grin. "There's the Rosie I know."

Rosaline reached into her satchel and pulled out the small sketchbook she always carried, flipping to the page with the rough drawing of Lysandra's dress design.

"She'll want perfection. We'll give her that. I won't let him ruin everything."

Ciara nodded. "Then tomorrow, we go back home. Back to willow

Rosaline turned toward her. "Do you think anyone saw?"

Ciara bit her lip. "It's the capital, Rosie. Nothing stays hidden for long. But I doubt they know who you are yet."

Rosaline's heart dropped. "He said he was going to reject the bond officially."

Ciara looked at her sharply. "He will say that in front of others?"

"Then you still have time. He hasn't declared it publicly."

Rosaline looked at her friend, confused. "What does that matter?"

Ciara hesitated, then said slowly, "Because once he does… you'll feel it. Not just your heart. Your soul. The rejection will burn, Rosie. It's not just words. It's a magical severing."

Rosaline's eyes widened, fear flickering across her face. "I didn't know that."

Ciara nodded grimly. "Not many do until it happens."

"How do you know about it? The severing of the bond I mean" Rosaline asked her friend.

"My mother told me. Not a lot of people knew, but it happened to her. But that's a story for another day."

Silence settled between them again, the knowledge that something worse still loomed in the distance hovering over them like a storm cloud.

Rosaline stared down at her hands. "Will it always feel like this?"

Ciara shook her head. "No. It'll hurt, but it'll pass. And when it does, you'll be stronger. Wiser.

You'll find someone who chooses you....not because of fate, but because they see you."

"My father did for my mother".

Rosaline gave a weak smile. "That sounds nice."

They stayed in the garden until the first signs of dawn painted the sky in soft pink and gold. Birds chirped gently in the distance, and the fountain glistened like diamonds under the morning sun.

"We should go," Ciara said gently. "The merchant stalls open in an hour. And we've got a gown to perfect."

Rosaline stood, brushing off her skirt. Her eyes were tired, but her posture straighter than it had been earlier. "Let's go find the remaining fabric Lysandra will brag about for the next ten years."

Ciara looped their arms together. "And let's do it with style."

They walked out of the temple gardens as the capital slowly began to wake, unaware that far above, in the tallest tower of the Silverthrone castle, a certain king sat on his balcony, unable to sleep, staring at the city with hollow eyes and a restless wolf clawing inside him.