"I'm done being sad. I'm not going to the palace, and there's nothing Dad can do about it," Penelope thought to herself, clenching her fists as she walked towards the grand ballroom. The music swirled around her, but the sound felt distant, muffled, as though she were in a different world entirely. She couldn't stop the storm of emotions brewing inside her. This life—this royal cage—wasn't for her. She was done.
"By the way, where's Collins?" my wolf asked, her voice tinged with curiosity, as though she were watching from some hidden corner of my mind.
"I'm sure you want to confess your feelings to him," she teased, the edges of her voice playful and sharp, but underneath, I sensed the sadness she tried to hide.
Ignoring her, I stood up, my heart heavy with the weight of my decision. I moved toward the dance floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Collins. I wanted to see him, let him know what I feeltoward him.
But as my eyes scanned the crowd, my stomach twisted in frustration. No Collins.
Frustrated, I made my way toward the back of the hall, passing servants and guests, ignoring their glances. The decision had already been made, and there was no going back now. I would tell my father exactly what I had decided. There would be no palace for me, no royal duties, no life of obligations. I was done.
As I walked down the long corridor, the walls adorned with tapestries and portraits of long-dead ancestors, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.
Collins.
But his words didn't make sense at first. They seemed distant, floating through the air. I paused, confused, straining to hear more clearly. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I edged closer to the source.
"I don't see her that way, Cressida," Collins said, his voice low but clear. "She's just a friend… but you, I feel so much more for you."
At that moment, it was as if a dagger had pierced my chest. My whole body stiffened. *What?*
I moved closer, my breath catching in my throat, but I couldn't bring myself to fully step into their sight. Cressida's laugh followed, soft and sultry, as she responded in a voice full of self-satisfaction.
"You don't need to explain, Collins," she purred. "I've known for a while. But when she leaves, we can be together without hiding anymore."
The final blow shattered my heart.
My legs nearly gave way beneath me. I staggered, my hands clutching the nearest wall to steady myself. *Of all the women in the world,* I thought bitterly, *he chose her. My sister. The one who hate me.*
Tears began to well in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks uncontrollably. I hadn't expected this. Not this.
*I didn't need to tell him how I felt. It didn't matter anymore.* My throat tightened, but I forced myself to breathe. The man I had once dreamed of loving had already made his choice. The realization hit harder than I could've imagined.
I wiped my tears, trying to regain control. My hands trembled as I wiped away every trace of emotion, but I couldn't stop the fresh wave of hurt crashing over me.
I was done with it all. I was done with him, with this entire life. There was nothing left for me here. Nothing.
With shaking steps, I moved toward my father's room, the one place where I could escape, if only for a moment. His approval had been all I sought for so long, but now it seemed meaningless.
As I approached the door, I heard Lady Eleanor's voice from within. Her tone was dismissive, as it always was when it came to me.
"She said she doesn't want to go. Let Cressida go instead," she said, her voice dripping with condescension.
The words hit me like a slap across the face. *So they had already decided without me.* The thought made bile rise in my throat. I had no say, no voice in my own life.
I knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping against the wood more forcefully than I intended. Instantly, their conversation stopped, and the room fell silent.
"Come in," my father called, his voice warm, but I could hear the tension beneath it.
I opened the door and stepped into the room. My father stood, his expression softening as he saw me, but Lady Eleanor barely spared me a glance, her face locked in that cold, arrogant mask of hers.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to, Penelope," he said gently, his voice full of concern as he walked toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry for pressuring you. I know I've been hard on you."
I didn't respond immediately. My heart was a storm of emotions—hurt, anger, sorrow—but I knew it would be too easy to break down in front of him. Instead, I lifted my chin, trying to appear steady, resolute.
"I came to tell you… I'm going," I said, my voice steady, but the words felt foreign. *I'm glad you picked me.*
The moment I said it, I realized how hollow the words sounded. I wasn't glad. I was furious. But there was no turning back now.
My father's face lit up with relief, his smile wide as he clapped me on the back. "Wonderful! We don't want to keep the king waiting. Tell the maid to get your things ready—you leave tomorrow."
I bowed, trying to hide the tremor in my hands. I could feel my father's warmth, his pride in me, but it only made the emptiness inside me grow.
I left the room, my legs heavy, my heart heavier. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They spilled down my cheeks, silent and relentless, as I walked away from everything.
*He wasn't for you, Penelope,* my wolf whispered softly in my mind, her voice like a distant echo. *You need to let the Moon Goddess choose for you. Your mate is out there. You just have to trust her.*
I felt the anger bubble up, hot and sharp, like a fire igniting deep within me. "The Moon Goddess?" I snapped aloud, my voice loud in the empty hallway, uncaring if anyone heard. "I will decide who I will be with. I don't believe in that nonsense. I don't believe in mates."
The words felt like acid on my tongue, but I couldn't stop myself. My wolf had always been a part of me, and now… now I wanted to silence her, to erase her from my thoughts.
"Calm down, Penelope," my wolf responded, her voice distant, pained, as if she were fading. "You're cutting me off."
"I don't care," I said, my voice cold and final.
Her tone became more desperate, like a fragile thread pulling at my heart. "What you're doing is irreversible. You won't be able to find your mate. Our mate needs us. If you keep pushing me away, I'll be gone."
My heart stuttered, a sharp pain piercing me at her words. I swallowed hard, the tightness in my chest unbearable. "So be it."
And then, like a fragile thread snapping in the wind, I felt her—Potema, my wolf—fade into the distance, her presence slipping from my mind, leaving me cold, empty, and alone. My body went numb, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as though I had been holding my breath for years.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, but I couldn't bring myself to look up. Not anymore. I had nothing left to give.
Then, a shadow loomed over me, blocking the dim light from the hallway. The familiar voice of Collins—*his* voice—spoke softly from above, hesitant, almost unsure.
"Penelope?"
I didn't move. I didn't answer. The pain was too much, the weight of it too heavy. I wasn't sure I even wanted to face him anymore.
But what came next, I could never have expected. The soft rustle of clothing, the sound of movement closer, and then—