Chapter 285: A Talk

Aria slept longer than she intended, exhaustion weighing heavily on her limbs. She drifted in and out of dreams—broken images of fire, Zyren’s unreadable gold eyes, and Clara’s razor-sharp smile—until a light tapping on her back slowly pulled her toward consciousness. It was gentle at first, like a nudge meant to coax her awake. But then came a firmer shake, strong enough to make her eyes flutter open.She blinked up groggily and saw Rymora standing over her, leaning slightly forward with worry etched across her face.

"The sun will be setting soon," Rymora whispered the moment she saw Aria awake. "I figured you would prefer to have the meeting before dinner."

Aria groaned softly, pushing herself upright as she ran a hand over her face. Her body still felt heavy, weighed down by the constant anxiety that had clung to her ever since leaving Zyren’s chambers. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head until her bones cracked, then swung her legs off the bed.

"You could have woken me earlier," she mumbled as she stood up. But there was no real annoyance in her tone—only fatigue.

Rymora gave her a small smile, already reaching for the garments prepared earlier.

"You looked tired, my lady. I didn’t want to disturb you until necessary."

Aria didn’t argue. She simply stepped behind the divider and began dressing, her movements slow but practiced. Today, she was to meet Clara again, and the very thought made her chest tighten with equal parts dread and irritation. Clara was unpredictable, dangerously intelligent, and annoyingly beautiful. And worst of all—she seemed to know far more than she should.

Aria slipped into the gown laid out for her: a light red dress that wrapped elegantly around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. The fabric fell smoothly along her frame before cascading down to her feet in soft waves. It was simple yet exquisite, a style Rymora insisted suited Aria’s fiery hair and sharper features.

Once she was dressed, she sat before the mirror while Rymora quickly began working through her hair. Aria watched her reflection silently, barely recognizing the woman staring back. The gown hugged her well, highlighting her form, and her red hair—once trimmed short out of practicality—had grown long again, falling in soft waves down her back.

On her, the look was striking.

But on her sister?

It would have been breathtaking.

A familiar sting accompanied the thought, one she had felt countless times before. Her sister was more beautiful. Always had been. Aria had grown used to it—to the stares, the comparisons, the assumptions—but sometimes the old insecurity tugged at her mind unexpectedly. Today was one of those days.

She pushed the thought aside and stood once Rymora stepped back.

"You’re ready," Rymora said warmly.

Aria nodded, then headed toward the door. She walked down the long staircase, her footsteps soft against the polished stone floors, and made her way outside toward the garden. She knew without question that Clara would choose that place to meet. It was the one location in the palace grounds where they could speak without guards hovering around or attendants accidentally overhearing something they shouldn’t.

The garden was vast, filled with blooming trees and vines crawling up the marble columns. In the center stood an enormous old tree—its branches wide enough to cast a large, cool shadow over the grass even during the hottest parts of the day.

Aria wasn’t remotely surprised to see Clara already there.

Clara stood beneath the great tree, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow over her white gown. The dress was long and delicate, cinched at the waist with a thin jeweled band that highlighted her perfect figure. Her hair was braided meticulously, woven with tiny jewels that glittered as she shifted. The style drew attention to her soft, furred ears—wolf ears—peeking through her hair like an elegant crown.

She truly did look like an angel. Ethereal. Untouched by worry or fear.

Aria felt something tighten in her chest as she approached. Not admiration. Not jealousy. Something in between that she didn’t quite know how to name.

Rymora followed behind but stopped at a respectful distance, well aware she wasn’t meant to move closer. Conversations between Aria and Clara were dangerous, politically charged, and filled with secrets—too delicate for a third pair of ears.

Aria stepped forward until only a few feet separated them.

"You could have sent a letter," Aria said immediately, irritation slipping through before she could soften her voice. "At this point, we might as well announce to the entire palace that we’re colluding together."

She let out a long, tired sigh.

Clara didn’t react with offense. Instead, she smiled softly—her gold eyes brightening with a shine that made her look almost amused.

"Is that what we’re doing?" Clara asked lightly. "You agree to wear the neck—"

Aria cut her off before she could finish.

"I agreed to help you kill Zyren," she said coldly, her tone sharp and unwavering. "Nothing more. I don’t care about your problems with King Jared. And if you refuse my help"—she lifted her chin slightly—"then I will figure it out myself."

Clara’s smile didn’t fade, but something colder seeped into it.

"Aren’t you worried Zyren will find out and kill you?" she asked softly, almost tenderly. "He has killed all his previous pets."

Aria froze. Her chest tightened, and something flared behind her stern expression. But Clara’s smile didn’t waver.

"I’m almost jealous," Clara continued, tilting her head, "of the confidence you have in him."

Aria clenched her jaw. She hated how Clara worded things—always twisting even simple sentences into dangerous implications.

Annoyance surged through her, and she turned on her heel.

"If you have nothing more to say, I’m leaving," she snapped. "I might not like Zyren as a person, but we both know that werewolves would kill their own flesh and blood if it meant killing him."

Her footsteps were already carrying her away when Clara’s voice rang out—sharper now, stripped of its earlier playfulness.

"Kings will take care of kingly business," Clara said. "And I, as Luna, will take care of mine."

Aria paused, back still turned.

Clara continued, voice cool and piercing.

"I need to bear an heir. To ensure his bloodline continues. A duty I cannot fulfill if my husband refuses to touch me."

Aria turned slightly, confusion etched across her face.

Clara’s cold expression never faltered.

"But the more he avoids me," she continued, "the more obvious it becomes that his interest lies elsewhere."

Aria felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. She didn’t like where this was going. She didn’t like the implication behind Clara’s tone.

"I already told you there’s no way anything could be between King—"

Clara cut her off sharply.

"Yet the way he looks at you says otherwise."

Aria stiffened.

"You are clearly his destined mate."

Aria almost laughed. The absurdity was too much.

She turned fully around, meeting Clara’s gaze head-on.

"I am definitely not his—"

"You truly don’t feel any connection to him?" Clara interjected smoothly. "No attraction at all?"

The question was so blunt Aria physically recoiled.

Immediately—and perhaps too quickly—she shook her head. Hard. As vigorously as her neck allowed.

"No," she said, the lie falling from her lips a little too fast, a little too desperate. "Absolutely not."

Clara’s smile returned—slow, knowing, and far more dangerous.

As if she already knew the truth Aria refused to speak.

"You’ve never felt the need to bare yourself to him and have him take you?" Clara asked, taking one step forward in a somewhat threatening manner as she continued to speak.

"You’ve never gotten wet for..." but Aria didn’t let her finish since it would be a lie if she said she hadn’t.

"The only person that gets me wet is Zyren!" she told her, taking a step forward until there was barely a few inches of space between them as they stared at each other in a heated manner that could only be seen as a faceoff.

The silence that settled between them after that was heavy as neither of them seemed to be back down especially Aria who was more than incensed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Clara’s love life.

"Your Alpha wanting nothing to do with you has nothing to do with me!" Aware that she had bigger problems of her own and realizing that if she was to make progress she needed to talk to Jared personally about what he intended.

Aria was planning to leave, only to watch as Clara moved closer, clasping both her hands and speaking softly, just as she had before, before she began to use an argumentative tone.

"I was wrong and you’re right! I have to fix my problems myself. As for the plan, you’ll have to ask Jared. If he wont sleep with me, would he talk to me?" Clara asked even as she let go of Aria’s hands just as suddenly as she held it and walked past without saying another word.