Rejected Luna Queen

4 per the entire day seething, my thoughts a chaotic swirl of anger and frustration. Every corner I turned, her scent lingered tamming the with its oddering allure

h clung to the alt, a constant reminder of last night’s humiliating encounter. The memory of her scream, not for me or Rowan, but for Luca, echoed in my mind like a relentless, mocking refrain.

4 couldn’t focus on anything. Every task felt trivial, every conversation a distraction from the turmoil within me. The palace walls seemed to low in stifling and oppressive,

Even the usual solace of my private chambers offered no respite her presence was everywhere, invading my senses, my thoughts, my very being.

My temper flared at the slightest provocation. Servants scattered at the sight of me, their fearful glances only fueling my

rage

I slammed doors, snapped at anyone who dared to approach, and stalked the halls like a caged beast. The world blurred into a haze of furry and resentment.

How dare she? How dare she find comfort in someone else, scream someone else’s name, when she was supposed to be mine?

The thought of Luca touching her, pleasuring her, made my blood boil. I punched the wall, feeling the satisfying sting of pain, but it did nothing to quell the fire inside.

By midday, I was a wreck. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, couldn’t escape the relentless torment of her memory. The gardens offered no peace, the training grounds no release. Everywhere, her presence haunted me, a ghost I couldn’t banish.

I found myself in the library, hoping for some distraction, but even the books seemed to mock me with their serenity. I paced between the shelves, my mind a storm of jealousy and rage. Her laughter, her cries, her scent it all drove me to the brink of madness.

As the day dragged on, my anger only grew. There was no escaping it, no forgetting her betrayal. Luca’s name burned in my mind, a brand of infidelity and loss.

I loathed them both, hated them for what they had done to me, for the torment they had unleashed.

By evening. I was exhausted, but still, the anger burned. I needed to see her, to confront her, to make her understand the depths of my fury. But I knew it would do no good. She had made her choice, and it wasn’t me.

As I lay in bed the night before, sleep eluding me, I vowed to find a way to break free of this torment. To reclaim my life, my sanity, from the chaos she had wrought. But for now, all I could do was seethe, my mind trapped in an endless loop of anger and despair.

I wandered through the palace, my anger simmering just beneath the surface, when I found myself drawn to the garden. It was a place I usually avoided, too serene for my turbulent thoughts, but today something pulled me there.

The garden was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos within me. I walked along the path, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the remnants of my rage.

As I rounded a corner, I saw her. Nesta. She sat alone on a stone bench, her figure still and contemplative amidst the vibrant

greenery.

For a moment, I considered turning away. The sight of her, so calm and composed, only stoked the embers of my anger. But something stopped me. An invisible force, a pull I couldn’t resist, drew me closer. It was as if an unseen hand was guiding

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1 hesitated, my steps faltering. Her presence was both a balm and a torment, soothing yet inflarning the turmoil within.

I watched her from a distance, the way her hair caught the light, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. She seemed so at peace, so untouched by the chaos she had stirred in me,

A part of me wanted to leave, to escape the magnetic pull she had over me. But I couldn’t. I stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away. The anger and resentment I felt for her warred with something deeper, something more primal that I couldn’t name.

Finally, I took a step forward, then another. The distance between us closed, and with each step, the invisible force pulling me to her grew stronger.

I stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to say, what to do. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

She looked up then, her eyes meeting mine. There was a moment of recognition, a flicker of something in her gaze that mirrored my own turmoil.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I simply stood there, caught in the gravity of her presence, feeling the weight of all that was left unsaid.

In that instant, I realised there was no escaping her pull. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t turn away. I was bound to her, drawn by an invisible force that defied reason and logic.

And as much as I hated it, a part of me revelled in the connection, the undeniable bond that tied us together.

Nesta stared ahead, her expression contemplative. For a long moment, we sat in silence, the only sounds were the distant rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of birds. I could feel her uncertainty, her hesitation, and it mirrored my own.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, she broke the silence. “Do you think I’m truly a healer?”

Her words hung in the air, tentative and fragile. I turned to look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes striking a chord deep within me. I wanted to be gruff, to maintain the barrier between us, but something in her question softened my resolve.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice rough with emotion I struggled to contain. “You are. You healed Rowan and me.”

Her eyes widened, shock evident on her face. She turned to me, her gaze searching mine for any hint of deception. “I healed you?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

I nodded, the memory of that day vivid in my mind. “Yes. You did. Your touch… it brought us back when we thought all was lost.”

She seemed to absorb this information, her shock slowly giving way to contemplation. The weight of my words settled over her, and I could see the dawning realisation in her eyes.

She was more than she had ever believed herself to be, and the truth of it seemed to both daunt and empower her. She doesn’t know and I don’t know what to feel about her. Is me hating her stupid?

We sat in silence once more, but this time it was different. The tension had eased, replaced by a shared understanding, a connection forged through the acknowledgment of her gift.

For a moment, the anger and resentment I had carried melted away, replaced by a profound sense of awe and respect for the woman beside me.

I sighed, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing on me. “Nesta,” I began, my voice softer now, “I know you’ve been through hell. And I know I haven’t made it any easier for you.”

She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. “Why does it matter now?” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Why do you care if I’m a healer?”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. “Because you’re more than what they made you believe. You’re strong, resilient. You can help us. And yes, you’re a healer. But you’re also so much more.”

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, we simply existed together in that quiet space, the world beyond the garden fading into insignificance.

The connection between us felt fragile, like a thread that could shap at any moment. But it was there, undeniable and strong.

As we sat there, the invisible force pulling me to her felt less like a burden and more like a promise of something greater. Perhaps, amidst the chaos and turmoil, we could find a way to heal not just each other, but ourselves.