Chapter 56: Another?

Chapter 56: Another?

🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡

Everything burned and ached. What didn’t burn outright pulsed like a heartbeat beneath my skin. I had to grit my teeth to get through the bathing process as the new lady helped me. I didn’t even squirm from my own nakedness nor at the fact that my burn scars were out in the open. I knew I had to get used to this service. And for the first time, I was actually grateful; at least I didn’t need to move my sore body too much.

Once she was done, she helped me up and out of the bath.

I could feel her assessing my body, studying it for goodness knew what. I did not even attempt to cover myself up.

She said nothing but I could read her face; the gears in her head were turning.

She draped a towel over my shoulder and guided me into the waiting bedroom. I limped, remembering the first time I had been made to do fifty squats by my coach.

My thigh hurt for weeks, climbing stairs impossible. But I healed.

Despite my rigorous training in the human world, nothing and I truly meant nothing could have prepared me for the agony.

My hybrid nature had helped heal the cut on my head, but not the utter torment of a single training session with the almighty high Alpha.

Even now nausea hit me like a freight train every time a phantom wind haunted me, pulling me back up onto the parapet.

Being on the ground again did not erase the horror.

And this was just the beginning.

"You are shivering, mistress," she whispered, towelling my wet hair. "Are you cold?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. The softness of her voice caught me off guard.

I went still, dragging my eyes over to her. I stuttered out a reply. "I am okay." I lied.

Maybe I was still delirious from the pain but her eyes narrowed. "Um,"

Before I could react, her fingers were wrapped around my thighs, squeezing. I let out a yelp that was entirely too loud. I caught myself too late and slammed my palms over my mouth.

My heart crashed into my ribs, dread washing over my body. My neck began to itch.

She was just like the old help...

I would have to report to Vladimir this time... watch her face whatever punishment came from Vladimir...

The falling marionettes flickered across my vision.

The lump in my throat hardened.

"Your legs are swollen," she observed, still experimentally gently squeezing my thighs. "You will need to keep your walking minimal. I will help you prepare," she murmured, her tone still calm but touched with concern. She pressed lightly again, tracing her fingers down to the sides of my knees, her expression tightening as if she could feel the deep ache radiating through the muscle.

Then, with a sigh, she straightened. "You must understand, mistress—our kind can heal wounds, yes, but we do not heal strain."

I frowned, unsure if my mind could process another riddle.

She met my eyes through the mirror, her gaze steady but patient. "Your blood repairs what threatens your life—tears, burns, broken bones. But what you feel now," she gestured down at my trembling legs, "is growth. The body rebuilds what it has broken down. It forges new fibers, denser, stronger, to match his pace. That is not something your cells can simply erase." she explained.

"Thank you for the information," it was as if she had read my mind and the confusion that writhed within.

She nodded and continued her job. "I will give you some pills for the pain."

The woman moved away from me, opening a small drawer in the vanity and taking out a silver tin embossed with the Wintercrest insignia. Inside were smooth white pills, glinting faintly under the morning light that filtered through the frosted window.

"Take two," she said softly, pouring them into her palm before handing them to me with a glass of water. "They’ll dull the ache enough to get you through the day, but don’t push your body more than you must. The pain is a message, not an obstacle."

I reached out to take them, but the moment our fingers brushed, something caught my attention.

A mark.

Barely visible at first, hidden by the turn of her wrist, but as she shifted to steady the glass, the light caught it—two black sigils etched into her skin. A crescent moon beneath a half moon.

My breath snagged in my throat.

The Lunar Crest.

Just like mine.

For a moment, the air between us seemed to change. The faint hum of the mark, the same resonance I’d felt in my chest when mine had first awakened. It echoed softly beneath my skin. I knew that feeling. The silent recognition. The pull of something shared.

She noticed my stare and instinctively pulled her sleeve down, too quick and practiced. Her expression didn’t change, and her composure did not falter for even a split second.

Before I could form the question burning at the back of my throat—How long have you had it? Who are you? Are there more of us?—she broke the silence.

"The High Alpha expects you at breakfast," she said briskly, as if nothing had happened. "Lady Olya will be joining as well. I’ll bring your clothes shortly—something light, to make walking easier."

I blinked, the words barely registering through the haze of revelation. "Breakfast," I repeated dumbly, the pills still resting in my palm.

"Yes." Her tone gentled again, eyes flicking briefly—knowingly—to my wrist before turning away. "Food will be ready soon. You’ll need your strength, mistress."

And just like that, she was gone—her footsteps soft against the marble, leaving the faint scent of the salve and something else in her wake.

So many questions.

I stared after her, pulse still uneven. The mark. The recognition.

There was another one. Another hybrid. Here, in Wintercrest.

I got up, ignoring the pain that followed. I moved towards the door but her footfall had grown faint and distant. She didn’t want my questions. I wasn’t meant to see it.

I had no idea what all this meant.

Does Vladimir have another marked hybrid? Another one lined up?