𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷

Chapter-39

*•.¸♡ AUTHOR'S POV ♡¸.•*

It was nearly afternoon when Myra finally stirred awake, her body heavy and languid from the lingering warmth of the night before. The heat between them had settled like an imprint on her skin. 

Since their marriage, this routine had become second nature—one she had long accepted as part of their bond. Since learning about the full moon's hold on Diego, she had never once denied him. 

When he needed her like that, she had always been there. Diego, in his raw, untamed state, never failed to seek her consent first. Even when his desires ran wild, his respect for her never wavered.

It was one of the reasons she adored him—how he could shift seamlessly between being the fierce, untamable beast and her loving, devoted husband. And each time, without hesitation, she said yes. 

How could she refuse him when she knew how much it meant to see him calm, no longer tormented by the ache inside?

After freshening up, Myra dressed quickly, her damp hair gathered loosely, a small clip holding it in place. The palace was still, wrapped in a quiet lull, as she descended the grand staircase, her bare feet making soft whispers against the stone. 

She moved toward the kitchen, searching for something to ease the hunger gnawing at her. As she stepped into the kitchen, Myra came to a sudden halt. Onora was already there, standing by the counter, pouring a glass of juice.

Since arriving at the palace in a weakened state—her body battered from days of travel—Onora had been under Myra's care. 

The grueling treatments had taken their toll, leaving behind lingering side effects: a fever that clung to her like a second skin and an injured leg that refused to heal quickly. 

Myra had insisted Onora stay in the palace until she was fully recovered. Seeing her now, standing with relative ease, Myra paused for a moment to observe her before stepping forward.

"How are you feeling?" Myra asked, her voice soft, drawing Onora's gaze toward her.

Onora turned to face her, offering a faint smile, one that seemed both tired and grateful. "Much better. I'm just relieved I can walk without pain now." 

She glanced down at her legs, her fingers brushing lightly over the spot where the injury had once caused so much discomfort. Now, only the faintest remnants of it lingered, flaring up only when too much pressure was applied.

Myra nodded in understanding, her gaze lingering on Onora's face for a moment before she moved toward the counter to prepare her meal. The kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of clinking utensils and the scent of fresh food. After a brief silence, Myra decided to break it.

"Where is your home?" she asked casually, her voice light, though curiosity simmered beneath it as she worked on her lunch. 

Onora finished the last sip of her juice, setting the glass down with a soft clink. She leaned lightly against the counter for support, her posture relaxed but still holding a hint of exhaustion.

"I don't recall much anymore," she said, her voice flat, distant. Myra's hands stilled briefly at the unexpected response, but she didn't interrupt, waiting for Onora to continue.

"I doubt it even exists anymore," Onora added, her tone devoid of emotion. "It's been... what? Twenty years? By now, everyone's probably assumed I'm dead." 

Her words carried the bitterness of an undeniable truth, but what struck Myra was the lack of any real emotion behind them—no anger, no sadness. It was as if the weight of the past no longer had any hold on her.