29. CHAPTER 29
MOON
I came back to Evermourne on Monday. Then I disappeared for three days.
The Winter Ball already felt like something from another life.
Christmas break loomed, and most heirs were counting down the hours until they could flee to their family estates and pretend they hadn’t spent the term ripping each other apart for Favor.
I stayed in my room in Aster Court. Door locked. Curtains drawn. Phone facedown. Pretending the world outside didn’t exist.
Cillian was banned from Aster Court after the stunt he pulled, so runners came.
Food appeared at my door three times a day, all my favorites, prepared exactly how I liked them, never with a note but I knew it was from him.
Medicine for the bruises showed up like clockwork.
Sometimes I’d wake to a new blanket or a thermos of the exact tea blend I preferred.
The snow outside had gotten more consistent, and the Scottish Highland winter had set in.
This morning, however, was different.
A sleek black box sat beside the tray. Expensive. Understated. Inside: my old penguin keychain, cleaned and restored. Heavy blackened silver clasp. Two new charms—a crescent moon and a tiny silver shamrock.
I stared at them for a long time, thumb tracing the cool metal. A moon and a shamrock. Cillian’s quiet, ridiculous way of saying us.
Warmth spread through my chest, soft and completely fucking unwelcome. God… he actually wants to marry me. For one second I let myself feel it.
My thumb kept tracing the crescent moon. Infuriating. And the only thing keeping me tethered.
Vivienne and Sawyer were less subtle.
Group chat blew up until I answered: I’m alive.
Vivienne showed up twice, refused to leave until I opened the door.
Declan had backed off. For now. Lorcan’s humiliation of Ronan had been enough to make him stay away. And Lorcan had handled the photos. I knew it wouldn’t last.
I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, still wearing the same black sweater. Hadn’t taken it off in three days. Couldn’t wash it. Still smelled like him.
And I miss him.
I stared at the ring on my finger like it was evidence of a crime I couldn’t stop committing.
The bruises he left on my skin had started to fade.
I wished they hadn’t.
Every time I looked and saw less of him on me, panic clawed up my throat. The sick fear that maybe none of it had been real. That I’d imagined the way he fought for me. The way he looked at me like he’d happily become the villain in everyone’s story if he got to be the hero in mine.
It’s stupid. Hiding in my room like a frightened child. Fuck. I can’t just stay hidden away like this.
But, I stayed.
Fingers twisted in his sweater. I wanted to see him so badly it hurt. And I couldn’t make myself move.
A loud, cheerful knock rattled the door.
“Hyung,” Sawyer drawled, banging on the door with zero shame.
“Open the fuck up before I pick the lock again. I’m not letting my favorite dramatic k-boy starve to death in there.
Just don’t be naked, or do. I’m not your mom.
” He paused, then added sweetly, “Don’t make me stand out here doing my terrible aegyo.
You know I’ll record it and send it to the group chat. ”
I hid my face in the sweater.
“Or I could just pick the lock. Your choice, princess.”
I let out a tired, bitter breath and called back without moving. “My reputation is already ruined, thanks. Okay, bye.”
Silence.
Then the distinct, horrifying sound of metal picking at the lock.
“No. What the fuck, Whitlock,” I snapped, sitting up fast. “Don’t you fucking—”
The lock clicked.
The door swung open.
Sawyer strolled in, phone in hand. Messy golden hair. That sharp, mischievous grin already in place.
“Too late,” he said cheerfully. “You gave me permission by being difficult. That’s how this friendship works.”
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion and irritation warring inside me. “I said bye, not ‘please break into my room like a deranged rich boy with no boundaries.’”
Sawyer kicked the door shut behind him with a casual flick of his heel.
His gaze flicked over me. Still suffocating in Cillian’s oversized sweater, hair wrecked, shame I couldn’t scrub off.
Smile sharpened, but something almost soft flickered underneath.
“You look like absolute shit, hyung.” He crossed his arms. “We’re going to the cafeteria. No arguments.”
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Ugh, fine. Just… give me ten minutes to shower.”
Sawyer dropped onto the edge of my bed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll wait here. Don’t take forever. You’ve been marinating in Ashbourne’s scent for three days. It’s getting concerning.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. I just grabbed clean clothes and locked myself in the bathroom.
The hot water felt like penance. I stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting it beat against the fading bruises on my hips and thighs.
When I finally stepped out, Sawyer was exactly where I’d left him, sprawled on my bed scrolling through his phone.
He looked up, eyes narrowing as he took in the fresh clothes and the way I was still moving.
“Better,” he said, standing up. “Marginally. Let’s go before you fuse with the mattress and I have to peel you off it.”
I didn’t argue. I knew he’d literally drag me out if I tried, and not in a dignified way.
We walked through Aster Court in silence for a while. The halls were lively, loud, and full of peers pretending not to stare. Sawyer stayed glued to my side, closer than usual, ready to throw hands at anyone who tried anything.
“You’re hovering,” I muttered.
“I’m protecting you,” he shot back, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“You’re useless to me if you waste away. Eat. Get your icy bitch energy back. Court needs you functional, not moping.”
I let out a tired breath, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself.
“I hate you.”
“You love me,” he said cheerfully, squeezing my shoulder. “Deep down. In your cold, repressed little heart.”
I didn’t push him off.
I wanted coffee. I wanted to be alone. I wanted everyone to stop looking at me.
Sawyer grabbed his tray first and started walking ahead. I followed a few steps behind, eyes on the back of his head, already regretting leaving my room.
Then he veered toward a table in the far corner.
No.
Absolutely not.
Cillian, Aleksei, Mikhail, Vivienne—all sitting together. I approached slowly, tray in hand, feeling like I was walking into a minefield.
“Have we all collectively lost our minds?” I asked. “Why the hell are we eating together like this is ordinary?”
Mikhail opened his mouth, already grinning.
Cillian didn’t even look up from his plate. “Aleksei and Vivienne are fucking,” he announced casually.
Vivienne threw a piece of bread at his head. Cillian caught it without glancing up.
I looked at her.
Vivienne arched one perfect brow, completely unruffled. “Hyun, I may have convinced Aleksei to protect you.”
I stared.
“With my methods,” she added, taking a delicate sip of tea.
Across the table, Aleksei’s mouth curved with faint amusement. “What can I say? I like a capable woman.”
Vivienne leaned across and kissed him. Three Aster girls lost interest in subtlety.
I stared harder.
Am I in a coma?
Did I die in Ronan Carrick’s hands?
Am I a Victorian ghost at Evermourne Academy?
There’s no way Vivienne is dating Aleksei Lovchy.
Sawyer set his fork down with a clink, staring at the table. “Great. We’re a cult now.”
Mikhail’s grin split wide, all teeth. “Told you assholes weeks ago. About fucking time.”
Vivienne sat back as if she’d merely adjusted a napkin. Aleksei drank his coffee, mouth still faintly marked by hers.
I looked between them. “Wait—” My fingers tightened around the tray. “Why the fuck is everyone up my ass about Cillian when you two are basically tongue-fucking over breakfast?”
Mikhail’s mouth twitched, already grinning.
“Shut it,” Aleksei muttered.
Mikhail ignored him completely. “—if you and Cillian hadn’t kicked things off with a Blood Writ, a Carrick beatdown, public death threats, half a dozen almost-fuck scandals, and whatever the hell went down at the ball that had you walking around like a Victorian widow, maybe people wouldn’t be staring. ”
Heat crawled up my neck. Sawyer lit up. “Victorian widow is generous. You looked freshly haunted.”
I whipped my head around. “Keep talking and you won’t have ten fingers left.”
“Not really attached to all of them, anyway.”
I kept going. “So everyone’s giving me shit for Cillian, but you can just make out over the fucking breakfast table? What is this, selective homophobia?”
Vivienne grabbed my wrist, squeezed, and yanked me down by the sweater until I sat.
“We’re not the same,” she said calmly. “Our families fit. Mine has the titles, his has the kind of power people don’t fuck with. Together we look like a treaty. You and Cillian look like two powder kegs who already blew up half the academy. We’re just better at being discreet.”
Mikhail leaned back in his chair. “Plus you’re already a walking headline as Nathaniel Moon’s son. Everyone’s half-convinced he’s pulling strings at Evermourne. Watching you two is front-row seats to a blood sport. Congrats on the Patronage Seat, by the way—”
Vivienne smacked the back of his head. “Ow—fuck, Vivi. Your girlfriend hits like a dude, Lesha.”
She rolled her eyes.
I froze. Cillian’s eyes were already on me.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Vivienne put her arms around me and squeezed tight.
“Hyun, darling,” she said, almost gentle. “You won the Patronage Seat. Results went up this morning next to the Favor tally board.”
Chills ripped down my spine.
I got the Patronage Seat. Just like that.
I glared at every one of them at the table. At Vivienne’s smile right next to me. At Mikhail still rubbing the back of his head.
I had won the Patronage Seat.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt… nothing.
How?
Why?
After all the scandals, would Aster Court still accept me as their leader? My father would be happy when I called him tonight. That should have mattered.