Chapter 38 No More Running
No More Running
Hunched in a chair, Gregory’s eyes flicked over Luna as she came down the stairs. Something in his expression caught her. Concern? Maybe pity. The thought settled uneasily in her chest. He looked away quickly, swiping a hand across his face.
She crossed the room; her steps slow, uncertain. The silence between them stretched too long.
When she finally spoke, her voice came out sharper than intended. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Gregory blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m broken.”
“I can’t help it.” He went still, gaze fixed on the floor. “I was useless in that camp . . . I couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t save you . . .” His fingers curled tight around the armrests as if anchoring himself. “Just like I couldn’t save . . .”
He didn’t say her name, but Luna knew who he meant.
The sharp edge of her anger dulled; she hadn’t considered how any of this might be affecting him. “It’s my fault I ended up there.”
“No,” he breathed out, his fingers drumming on the armrests. “You did what you thought was right.” He met her gaze. “No one blames you for running.”
No one had to, she’d already sentenced herself.
She forced a half-smile, not because she felt better, but to end the conversation. Let Gregory think he’d helped. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding towards the nearby bowl overflowing with mushrooms.
“Ah,” he said, picking up a few and rolling them through his fingers. “Mushrooms from out back.”
“A bit of an odd breakfast, don’t you think?”
He tossed them back into the bowl. “It’s what my fiancée and I used to do when we stayed here.” His lips curled into a nostalgic smile. “Everyone always admired the roses, but not her. She loved the fungi.”
“How quirky.”
“She’s the best . . .” His smile faltered. “Was the best.”
She understood the hollow feeling of loss. Her gaze fell to the floor, and she whispered the only thing she could think of to say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You know”—Gregory snapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth—“I’ve always hated when people say that.
” His next words had a bite to them. “I heard it constantly when she first disappeared. No one has anything better to offer. It loses all meaning until it becomes this hollow, almost condescending statement. If you’re sorry, tell me what for, or better yet, don’t say anything at all. ”
Luna corrected herself, “I’m sorry for our loss. That I don’t get to share the experience of knowing her.”
“Better,” Gregory said, his eyes brightening a touch. “Sorry about earlier. I’ll watch my face better.” He chuckled and added, “Only glares and dirty looks from here on out.”
The forced laughter she gave cut like a blade up her throat, but she tried to ignore the feeling. Stepping closer, her fingers brushed against the cool rim of the bowl. “Are these any good, or are we gambling with our lives?” Her tone was light, despite the heaviness that still tugged at her.
“Amazing,” he said. As if to prove it, Gregory stuffed a handful of mushrooms into his mouth. “Want some?”
“Why not?” She grabbed one from the bowl and brought it to her lips. Tan in colour and no bigger than her pinky finger, it offered a subtle sweetness that mellowed the earthy flavour, more pleasant than she expected.
Winta’s voice rang out from the kitchen, calling them for breakfast. Gregory scooped up the bowl and made his way towards the dining room, with Luna following at a slower pace.
A white runner stretched across the length of the walnut-coloured table.
As Luna took her seat across from Gregory, her fingers drifted along the fabric, smooth and faintly textured, as if freshly pressed.
A centrepiece stood in the middle, its roses releasing a delicate scent.
The soft pink petals were carefully arranged, perhaps a little too perfectly, and bloomed from a vase woven entirely from dried flowers.
Winta took her place at the head of the table. “A bath and some rest really does wonders for a person,” she remarked with perfect posture. Her smug smile made it hard to tell if she was teasing or mocking. “You wear my things almost as well as I do.”
Uncertain how to respond, Luna replied, “Um . . . thank you?”
“Behave yourself, Winta,” Gregory warned. “We don’t want to scare off our new friend.”
“What could you possibly mean?” Winta fanned her hand, feigning innocence. “Do you honestly think anyone looks better in my clothes than I do? I’m perfection, but she’s a close second. It’s a compliment of the highest regard.”
A soft clatter of wheels and porcelain signaled the arrival of a servant, who began placing plates at each setting. Conversation dipped naturally, attention shifting to the morning’s meal. Luna glanced down at the food but found her appetite had already begun to fade.
“Oh great, more mushrooms.”
Damien’s voice cut through the quiet as he rounded the corner, the sarcasm unmistakable. Luna looked up, her eyes following him as he entered, wondering where he’d slipped off to.
“Don’t tell me you still hate mushrooms,” Gregory taunted with a grin.
How amusing! Damien, her brave shadow man, was a fussy eater? She would’ve never guessed.
He sighed and slumped into the chair beside her. “You would, too, if Knox had stuffed one with pebbles for you.”
Luna snorted, a soft smile stretching across her lips.
Damien’s eyes snapped to hers, his voice low and brushed with warmth as he murmured, “I’d gladly eat a mountain of stones if it kept those dimples on your face.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and her hand rose instinctively to cover them. That she could still smile surprised her, given everything she’d been through.
Luna took a sip of tea, then stood. Damien’s gaze lingered on her untouched plate, and for a moment, she braced for him to say something, but thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he stood from his seat and extended a hand towards her. “Care to join me for a walk outside?”
Still chewing a mouthful of mushrooms, Gregory chimed in as though Damien had been speaking to him. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”
Winta dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “I’ll pass as well,” she said smoothly. “I should find my husband. He’ll need someone to nurse that hangover of his.”
Luna didn’t take Damien’s hand, she simply nodded. “Sure, why not.”
Outside, Damien led her down the marble pathway that curved around the rose mansion.
Birds chirped nearby, the sound of hooves on grass soft beneath them.
Warm sunlight kissed Luna’s skin as they strolled through rows of manicured gardens.
Roses of every shade bloomed, from the deepest of crimson to soft blushes of pink and purest whites.
Her shoulders loosened for the first time all morning.
“This is nice,” she said. “Thank you.” Though it’d be even nicer if she could fully trust him . . .
“In the jungle of flowers?” He absently ran a hand along the base of his horn. “I guess so. You know, I always think there’s no more room for Winta to add another plant, but then she finds a way.” His voice turned dry. “She’s quite the plant hoarder.”
Luna breathed out a silent laugh through her nose. This place really was drowning in greenery. Her fingers brushed a nearby bloom before she even realized what she was doing. The petals curled towards her touch, soft and ticklish, almost alive.
Damien lingered beside her, close enough to feel. “I remember the first time I saw you.” His voice low, distant. “You were doing the same thing. Crouched over a plant, admiring it like nothing else existed.”
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were going to take me out or something.” Squaring her shoulders, she puffed up her chest and dropped her voice an octave. “You. Don’t. Belong. Here.”
Damien cracked a smile, a laugh tearing loose from his throat.
She grinned and bumped him with her elbow. “Seriously, did you have to be so ominous?”
“You thought the weed didn’t belong, so I pointed out that a unicorn in a human kingdom didn’t either—and you didn’t.”
That hit harder than she expected, but she pushed the weight of it aside. “I guess I didn’t, hey.”
“I’ve been thinking . . .” He plucked a rose from a nearby bush and tucked it behind her ear.
His fingers lingered, his gaze soft as he looked at her—like she was something precious.
Adored. Wanted, even. The kind of look that might’ve once made her heart flutter.
His voice was quiet when he added, “Your magic displayed itself as a flower the first time you used it. Maybe it was trying to comfort you.”
The flowerbeds back home had always brought her peace. Had it been her magic reaching for her all along? Her tail twitched once, then twice. That life felt like it belonged to someone else.
His fingers hovered by her cheek, unsure. “How are you feeling after our talk this morning?” She leaned into the touch, letting him steady her. Softly, his fingers traced down her cheek to her jaw. “Truly feeling?”
“Not better, not worse,” she answered honestly.
“I wish I knew how to help. At the very least take away your sorrow.”
Without replying, she turned and walked on, wanting nothing more than to forget. To stay in the moment with him, instead of drowning in the past or worrying if staying had been a mistake.
He fell into step beside her. “You don’t have to go through this alone. It’s better to process your emotions than bury them.”
“Maybe so,” she muttered, “but I prefer the latter.”
“Then let me grab a shovel and we’ll bury that shit deep down.”
A breath that almost passed for a laugh left her. “I’d like that.”
Silently, they walked past more rows of roses. After a while, Damien said, “The transfer for Nina and my sister is soon.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Would you like to head that way?”
“Very much so.”
He held out his hand. As she reached for it, a shudder rippled through her, and she flinched back.
“Let’s try this instead,” he offered gently, sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her close.
This time, she didn’t flinch. The tension in her body didn’t ease completely either, but for once, she let herself lean into it. Not quite safety . . . but close.
“I’ve always dreamed of meeting my birth mother,” she murmured.
“Now that I am . . . I don’t know what to say.
Do I call her mom? What if she doesn’t want to see me?
It feels ridiculous to drop in and say, ‘Hey, I’m your kid.
You’ve probably seen me around the palace, but I had no idea you were my mom. Let’s bond.’”
Damien gave her a small comforting squeeze, his arm still around her. “Honestly? I’m worried too. You’ve been through so much. If it doesn’t go how you hope, will you be okay?”
She shook her head. “It has to go well. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything, I have to know. If I don’t ask my questions, I’ll regret it.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Some questions are better left unanswered . . .”
Luna’s ears flattened against her skull. Of course he thought that. He hadn’t grown up half a person, built from silence and longing. He couldn’t understand. Even if it hurt, not knowing hurt worse. This would either bring closure or the beginning of a mother-daughter bond.
The path took them to the edge of the property, with the high hedged fence and another opening in which water fell out of the sky in one solid line. With no hesitation this time, they passed under it, leaving the water humming its eerie melody behind.