CHAPTER 46: TOO FAMILIAR TO BE MISTAKEN

I wished I could enjoy the party like everyone else.

It had been so long since I stood in a room filled with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Once, I used to know what it felt like to be part of such celebrations. But those days had died. In the three years I spent as a servant in the Levian pack, I had forgotten the taste of privilege. Servants weren’t invited to feasts. They brought the trays, filled the cups, and slipped away unnoticed.

Now, here I was again, standing in the midst of a hall glittering with jewels and silk, chandeliers swaying with soft light, music thrumming like a heartbeat beneath the marble floor.

Everyone looked radiant, smiling as though the world outside these walls did not exist.

And yet, I felt nothing.

The long table was weighed down with food that looked almost too perfect to be real. Roasted meats dripping with glaze, platters of golden pastries, bowls of fruits that gleamed like jewels, wines in every shade from blood red to shimmering gold.

It should have tempted me. My stomach should have grumbled after days of rest. But even the sight of it did nothing.

The truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to eat. My appetite had abandoned me the moment I fled Finn’s lands and found myself in Undercity.

My body felt hollow, but not with hunger. With grief. With chaos.

I shifted uncomfortably, watching laughter ripple through the dancers, and finally turned to Raye.

She was chatting animatedly with someone nearby, her dark hair catching the light, her smile wide as if she had no weight at all on her shoulders.

She noticed my stare quickly and came toward me.

"I am tired," I said softly, taking the chance before anyone else could intercept. "Can you lead me to my room, please?"

Her brow furrowed, concern etching lines into her youthful face. "You didn’t even take a single bite. Vivien, you’ve been in bed for days. Do you want to get sick?"

"Yes, you should eat something at least, Vien," Leika’s voice murmured inside me, low and firm.

"I’m not hungry," I answered her, weary.

I looked back at Raye, my voice softening. "Please."

Her eyes searched mine for a moment, as if trying to measure what I wasn’t saying.

At last, they softened. She sighed, her lips curving into a reluctant smile. "Fine."

Relief loosened something tight in my chest.

I followed her through the hall, weaving between dancers and tables, my mind detached from the noise around us.

My thoughts swirled too heavily. The escape, my mother’s death, Rion’s claim. I tried to be brave, to stand tall before them all, but inside me was only chaos. A storm I could barely keep from tearing me apart.

Raye led me back through corridors of pale stone that glowed faintly with lamplight.

When we reached the familiar chamber where I had first woken, she paused at the door.

"You can ring the bell near your door," she explained, pointing to a golden pull-chain that hung neatly by the frame. "Servants will come to you. You can ask them for anything you need. My bedroom is just down the left hallway, but I won’t be there for the next two hours or so."

I nodded.

"Thanks," I managed.

She gave me one last look, half-worried, half-resigned, then slipped out the door, leaving me alone.

For the first time since the balcony, the silence pressed against me.

I exhaled, long and shaky, and began stripping the silver gown from my body.

The fabric slid down like water, pooling at my feet. I tugged free the jewelry, the weight of it leaving faint imprints on my skin. My hair tumbled down my back in dark waves, unbound at last.

Naked, I opened the wardrobe. The scent of cedar drifted from within. Rows of fine garments greeted me, but my eyes caught on the simplest – a long silk nightgown, soft and pale. I slipped it over my head, letting it fall around me.

There were no windows here, only walls of stone carved smooth, yet the air was fresh and crisp, as though the very walls breathed.

My fingers trailed over the surface, cold beneath my touch, and I wondered...

What was this place, truly?

The Undercity. A vast place buried beneath the earth. I had never thought much of it before, never cared enough to seek its secrets.

But now, trapped within it, I found my thoughts circling.

Was this vast place carved by hand? Or was it filled with some ancient magic that gave life to stone?

I turned slowly, studying my surroundings with curious eyes.

The room was grand in its own right. A fireplace stood opposite me, though it was unlit. Lamps glowed faintly, but not with flame. No smoke, no flicker, just steady warmth like stars caught in glass.

There was furniture carved of dark wood: a polished table, chairs with velvet cushions, a bed draped in silk sheets.

A painting hung across from it, a burst of flowers and a rolling landscape. It looked almost out of place, so bright in a place that felt carved from shadows.

My gaze drifted to the small shelf tucked into a corner. A few books rested there, their spines worn, along with blank paper, ink. A round table and chair sat beside it.

I moved toward the shelf, running my fingers over the spines.

What kind of stories did wolves of the Undercity read? What knowledge did they leave in plain sight?

I was still bent over the shelf when a knock startled me.

I froze, breath caught.

Slowly, I approached the door, every instinct on edge. My hand hesitated on the handle, half-expecting shadows to pour in when I opened it.

But when the door creaked open, relief rushed through me.

It was only a girl, a maid dressed in black and white, her head bowed. She held a tray in her hands.

On it rested a glass of milk and a plate of baked pastries. The scent drifted to me, warm and sweet, enough to make my stomach tighten despite the numbness inside me.

But the pastries and milk weren’t the only ones on the tray.

Folded neatly beside the glass was a small paper with a note.

"Eat this before sleeping," it read. The elegant handwriting was too familiar to be mistaken.