Chapter 189
Lily POV
The moment the front door slammed behind Luna Helen, Emma came rushing into the office, her face pale with terror and her hands visibly shaking. Behind her, I could see Mrs. Patterson and Anna hovering in the hallway, their expressions equally fearful.
“Miss Lily,” Emma whispered, her voice trembling. “Are we… are we going to lose our jobs? What did Luna Helen say p>
I sighed deeply, feeling the weight of everyone’s anxiety pressing down on me. The last thing I wanted was for these kind people to suffer consequences for my poor decisions.
“Everything is fine,” I said, forcing reassurance into my voice. “Luna Helen was here about something else entirely. Nothing to do with any of you p>
Emma searched my face, clearly wanting to believe me but still terrified. “You’re sure? She looked so angry when she arrived p>
“I’m sure,” I lied smoothly. “She was just… concerned about my academic progress. Pack politics, nothing more p>
The relief that washed over Emma’s features was almost heartbreaking. She had been so convinced that her failure to protect me would result in her dismissal, and I couldn’t bear to let her continue suffering over something that wasn’t her fault.
“Actually,” I said, changing the subject deliberately, “I’m starving. All this drama has worked up quite an appetite. Is dinner ready p>
Emma’s face brightened immediately at having a real task to focus on. “Of course! Mrs. Patterson has prepared roasted chicken with herbs and vegetables. I’ll have it served right away p>
Dinner was a elaborate affair, as always. Mrs. Patterson had outdone herself with perfectly seasoned chicken, roasted root vegetables, and fresh bread that smelled heavenly. I forced myself to eat with apparent enthusiasm, keeping up light conversation with Emma about trivial matters to maintain the illusion that everything was normal.
After the meal, Mr. Sterling appeared for my scheduled etiquette lesson—an hour of instruction on proper comportment for a future Luna. Normally, I found these sessions tedious, but tonight I was grateful for the distraction. We practiced formal introductions, discussed the intricacies of pack hierarchy, and reviewed protocols for inter-pack diplomatic functions.
“Remember, Miss Lily,” Mr. Sterling said as our session concluded, “the way a Luna conducts herself reflects not only on her own character but on her mate and her entire pack. Every gesture, every word, every expression is observed and judged p>
His words felt like a checkmate to me especially after the day’s events. I wondered if he somehow knew about my afternoon with Kai and Luna Helen’s subsequent fury, if this was his subtle way of reminding me of my responsibilities.
When I finally retired to my room, I was exhausted but too wired to sleep. I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection in the ornate mirror. The bruises around my neck were still visible despite Emma’s careful makeup application, dark purple marks that stood out starkly against my pale skin.
I traced them gently with my fingertips, remembering the moment when Kai’s eyes had gone cold and empty, when the man I loved had become something dangerous and unrecognizable. The physical evidence would fade in a day or two thanks to his wolf healing, but the emotional impact would linger much longer.
I wondered how Kai was doing. Knowing him as I did, he was probably torturing himself with guilt and self-recrimination. He would be replaying every moment of the afternoon, focusing obsessively on the violence rather than the love that had preceded it. The thought of him suffering alone made my chest ache with longing to comfort him, but Luna Helen’s threats echoed in my mind. One step closer to Kai, and she would make sure I never saw him again.
My gaze drifted from my reflection to my school bag, which lay forgotten on the padded ottoman at the foot of my bed. The events of the afternoon had driven all thoughts of academics from my mind, but seeing the bag reminded me of the history lecturer’s assignment and his ultimatum about my last chance.
With a resigned sigh, I retrieved the papers he had given me and settled back at my vanity to read. The study guide was comprehensive and well-organized, covering three major historical periods in werewolf society. Despite my emotional turmoil, I found myself drawn into the material, grateful for something concrete to focus on.
I read for nearly an hour, taking notes and highlighting key concepts. The information was fascinating—detailed accounts of political alliances, territorial disputes, and the gradual evolution of pack society. The history lecturer clearly knew his subject matter inside and out, and his passion for history came through even in his written materials.
By the time I finally climbed into bed, it was well past midnight. I fell asleep with textbooks scattered around me, my dreams filled with ancient kingdoms and shadow councils, curses and prophecies that felt far too real for comfort.
The next morning, I woke up feeling tired and it didn’t help that it was drizzling slightly matching my sour mood perfectly. Emma helped me dress in dark jeans and a navy sweater with a high collar that would conceal any remaining evidence of yesterday’s trauma. I applied my own makeup carefully, adding extra concealer to ensure the bruises were completely hidden.
When Marcel arrived to drive me to the university, I made the same request as the previous day. “Please drop me at the coffee shop six blocks from campus. I’ll walk the rest of the way p>
“Miss Lily, are you certain?” Marcel asked, glancing at the threatening sky. “I know it’s drizzling now but it might rain any moment.”
“I’m certain,” I replied firmly. “The walk will do me good p>
As we drove through the morning traffic, I rehearsed my apology for the history lecturer. I would be contrite but not groveling, professional but sincere. I had done the reading he assigned, had taken detailed notes, and was prepared to prove that yesterday’s tardiness was not done purposely.
Marcel dropped me off at the coffee shop as requested, and I set off toward campus at a brisk pace. My first class was Contemporary Political Theory at nine o’clock—a course I had always enjoyed for its focus on modern governmental systems and their applications to pack society.
The drizzle had increased by the time I reached the university grounds, not heavy enough to require an umbrella but sufficient to make the walkways slippery. I increased my pace, anxious to reach the classroom before the lecturer arrived. Being late two days in a row would be academic suicide.
I was hurrying across the main quad, my bag bouncing against my hip and my hair beginning to curl from the moisture in the air, when disaster struck in the form of an inattentive student walking backward while engaged in animated conversation with his friend.
He was tall and lanky, with sandy brown hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His attention was entirely focused on whatever story he was telling his companion, gesticulating wildly as he moved in reverse directly into my path.
I tried to sidestep him, moving first to the left and then to the right, but he seemed to unconsciously mirror my movements, staying directly in my path like we were engaged in some sort of accidental dance.
“Excuse me,” I called out, but my voice was too low to penetrate his focus on his conversation.