Chapter NINETEEN: A Reminder to Everyone
redith’s POV.
The warm water slid over my skin, washing away the lingering drowsiness and frustration from my morning. The two maidservants moved around with practiced precision, their touch light as they helped bathe.
I should have been grateful, I supposed. After all, they were only doing what they were told.
But I couldn’t ignore the way their gazes kept flickering—hesitating—toward the mark on my shoulder.
The crescent moon.
Even without looking, I could feel the weight of their curiosity, the silent questions they didn’t dare voice. It wasn’t their fault. The mark was impossible to miss, standing out starkly against my pale skin, a dark reminder of what I was. Cursed and wolfless.
Or rather, what I wasn’t.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stay still, but inside, my stomach twisted. The water did little to soothe the deep-seated ache that ca with being seen like this. Exposed. Judged.
No one ever saw my skin—not since the mark appeared. I kept myself covered, hidden. But here, under the careful hands of the servants, there was no hiding. And the occasional glance, the brief flicker of pity or uncertainty in their eyes, made feel stripped bare in a way that had nothing to do with the bathwater.
By the ti they wrapped in a towel and began dressing , I was eager for it to be over. But then, I noticed the gown they had chosen.
It was one of the few dresses I had brought from Moonstone—a simple lavender gown with a flowing skirt and delicate embroidery. It was ant for outings, not for staying indoors.
I frowned. "This dress is for—"
"For what, my lady?" Mada Beatrice’s voice cut in before I could finish. I turned to see her standing near the vanity, arms folded neatly in front of her.
"For staying in," I finished. "I have simpler dresses for indoors."
Mada Beatrice lifted a single brow, unimpressed. "The other dresses you brought with you are unbefitting of an Alpha’s wife. Even as indoor wear."
My face heated at the implication.
"We will discard them," she continued smoothly.
A pang of embarrassnt shot through . "But I don’t have many clothes to begin with."
Mada Beatrice didn’t look the least bit concerned. "The tailors are already making new outfits for you. They will be delivered by evening."
That didn’t make feel any better. All the clothes I had now were hand--downs from Monique and Mabel—worn-out, faded, but mine. My father had stopped giving an allowance long ago, and without money, I had no choice but to rely on my sisters’ cast-offs.
Even if the clothes weren’t good enough for an Alpha’s wife, they were all I had. But arguing with Mada Beatrice was pointless.
I took a slow breath, swallowing my pride. "Fine."
Mada Beatrice gave a small nod, as if she had expected nothing less. Then, with the sa composed tone, she added, "Your maidservants will also begin packing your belongings. We leave for Duskmoor in the morning."
I blinked. "What?"
The announcent hit like a slap.
Mada Beatrice regarded coolly. "That is Alpha Draven’s order."
Of course it was.
Of course, he hadn’t thought to tell himself. Instead, I had to find out through his attendants, as if I were just another task to be managed.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was quickly learning to expect the unexpected from Draven. But sowhere in my head, I was tempted to refuse his arrangent.
And speaking of Duskmoor, I had heard of it, of its towering skyscrapers, its advanced technology—the very heart of the city. But I had never been there.
I had never even left Stormveil Packlands before.
A strange mix of apprehension and curiosity stirred inside . Would I even have the chance to explore? Or would I simply be caged in another unfamiliar place?
I was still lost in thought when a maidservant guided to sit before the mirror. She began working oil through my long silver hair, fingers gentle as she braided it into a neat ponytail.
She added purple hairpins, the colour matching my eyes.
I studied my reflection, but before I could fully process the look, a firm knock at the door pulled back to reality.
The doctor had arrived.
He entered the room with practiced ease and greeted before setting his bag on the floor beside . He was an older man, possibly in his late forties, with sharp eyes that imdiately locked onto my scar.
I didn’t flinch.
"How did you get this scar?" he asked.
The room fell silent.
I t his gaze but said nothing.
An ugly mory curled at the edges of my mind, dark and heavy. I didn’t want to talk about it.
The silence stretched.
The doctor glanced at Mada Beatrice as if waiting for her to intervene, but she rely gave a small nod, signalling for him to continue.
Realizing he wouldn’t get an answer from , he exhaled through his nose and pulled a loupe from his bag. Leaning in, he examined the scar closely.
His fingers brushed against it, a sharp prick of sensation ran down my spine—not pain, not exactly. Just... a reminder.
"How long have you had this injury?"
"A year," I said evenly.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Azul’s expression shift—her gaze softening, almost sad.
She felt bad for , and I hated it.
The doctor frowned, straightening. "Without a wolf, your healing is naturally slower. But even so, it shouldn’t have taken this long."
I said nothing.
I knew exactly why the scar hadn’t fully healed, and only I knew what I did occasionally to keep it open.
The doctor leaned back, his brows furrowing. "The centre of the scar is deep. It cut into so tissues." He paused, then asked, "Have you tried any dicine or healing balms?"
"Yes," I replied. "Shea butter balm. Aloe vera. Coconut oil. Herbal masks."
He frowned again. "With treatnt like that, the scar should have faded completely. And also, you are from Moonstone Pack."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small white container. "This balm will help. It contains petroleum jelly, aloe vera, tea tree oil, honey, and vitamin E."
I took the container and opened it. I studied the balm inside, inhaling its scent.
Then I looked up at him and said, "I sll lavender. You shouldn’t have added fragrance."
The doctor blinked. "What?"
"Perfu can hinder healing," I said plainly. "If you intended to treat an injury, you shouldn’t have used scented oils."
I knew these things. I was from Moonstone. Herbs and healing were second nature to my pack.
I watched from the corner of my eye as the maidservants exchanged glances. I bet they were all wondering how dare I, a cursed woman, correct a learned doctor.
The doctor hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I... I see. That was an oversight." He looked flustered. "I will prepare another balm without fragrance and have it sent to you by evening."
I simply nodded. I didn’t care.
He could bring the best healing balm in existence, and I still wouldn’t use it.
The only reason I corrected him was to remind everyone in the room—servants, Mada Beatrice, even Azul—that I wasn’t as useless as they thought.
Lunar curse or not, I was still a daughter of Moonstone.
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