Chapter 5: The Cost of Survival
Lyria's POV
The illness my mother suffered from was cruel — a rare sickness that afflicted only our kind, attacking the body's ability to regenerate and regulate heat. Fevers burned relentlessly. Muscles weakened. Bones ached as though splintering from within. Without proper treatment — crushed moonpetal root, silverthorn resin, and distilled frostbloom extract — the body slowly shut down.
The herbs were rare and bloody expensive. They were impossible for someone like me to afford, and without them, the fever would return. The spasms.
I had scrubbed floors until my hands bled. Endured lashes that carved scars into my back. Bowed my head until my neck ached endlessly.
All for her. For the one woman who risked her life to protect me even when I was the product of someone she hated. She treated me with care, with love. She taught me what kindness was, taught me how to paint… I'd do anything for her, even if it meant kissing the queen's feet, because I was not going to leave this castle without my mother.
I'll use my savings and try to gather more money. By the grace of the goddess, I'll leave the castle with my mother before the year runs out.
My fists curled in anger, but I controlled my breathing. I pretended to be scared and shocked by the brutality. So I sucked in a sharp breath and, in my head, counted down how long it would take to get out.
The act must have gone well because Jacinta laughed delightedly.
Her voice was soft, and so was her laugh, and to someone unsuspecting, they'd say the laugh was beautiful — that it suited the moon of the kingdom, the one chosen by the moon goddess. But I knew better.
This laugh was mocking and cruel. It filled her with delight at my expense.
"Oh, look at her, Mother," she said mockingly. "She looks like she might faint."
I remained silent, head bowed, as she chuckled again.
"The thought of your mother not receiving treatment must fill you with rage, but you can't do anything because you are utterly weak, right? I'm sure it must hurt. I wonder what your mother would even think if she finds out that her daughter does anything the woman she hates so much makes her do, all for her," Jacinta said, laughing.
My fingers dug into my palms.
'Don't give in. Don't give in. Don't give in,' I repeated in my head — the same phrase I told Patricia when she almost gave up one time.
My mother hated the queen because she had made the mistake of going to the queen when my father first started molesting her, but instead, my mother had been punished. My mother had gathered the courage to meet with the queen because she was painted as a benevolent ruler to the people, but those who were close to her knew better.
From that day, my mother hated the queen. Apart from punishing my mother, the queen had also called my father and told him about what my mother had said. Long story short, that was the night I was conceived, and given the circumstances, my mother still loved me and treated me like I was part of her.
Funny how I didn't get this knowledge from my mother. When I had asked my mother about my father when I was younger, she only told me he had gone far away — that it was going to be just us two.
My childhood self had thought my father was dead, but he was very much alive and healthy. He was perfectly healthy, and that irked me more than I liked to admit.
The queen was the one who had told me everything that transpired between my father and my mother. She had tried to insinuate that my mother seduced the king, but I got the full story from my father when he was drunk one night.
He had been trying to molest a maid, and I caught him. It was laughable, really, how someone like him could be king over the kingdom. Sometimes, bloodline was the only saviour that certain people had.
Jacinta closed the distance between us, her dress sweeping the floor as her heels clicked against the rug.
"Did you leave because of Corvin?" she asked sweetly. "Was it because he kissed my hand?"
My pulse spiked painfully. But I said nothing. Corvin still owed me an explanation, but to be honest, I wasn't so sure I'd even have the capacity to listen to it. At the very least, I deserved one — especially from someone who had claimed to dislike my sister and the royal family.
Jacinta's laughter sharpened.
"See?" she said, glancing toward her mother. "She can't even answer."
She circled me slowly like a predator examining wounded prey.
"Corvin has always followed me, you know," Jacinta continued lightly. "Ever since we were younger."
That was news to me, but I didn't say anything.
"He adored me. It was obvious."
Her tone dripped with satisfaction.
"I wasn't surprised at all when he joined the candidates. Honestly, I expected it."
She stopped directly in front of me.
I could feel her presence inches away.
"You truly believed he would choose you?" she mocked softly. "You? The wolfless mistake? You really thought he cared?"
"Men like Corvin don't settle for scraps," she continued. "He was only using you. You were convenient, sister. You were a distraction, and I'm sure he enjoyed every second where he fooled you. He told me you confessed to him."
I made a mistake and sucked in a deep breath, which gave how I felt away. I should have continued pretending like I was sad because of what they were going to do to my mother.
"Oh," Jacinta said as she clapped her hands delightedly, then laughed. "Yes, that's it. That's what I want. He told me. He told me how you confessed to him too. Let me tell you something else as well — you see the ribbon he gave you? I was the one who told him to do so."
I didn't say anything even as tears gathered in my eyes. I knew not to trust anyone, and I still gave him my heart. I told him things I didn't tell anyone else… mainly because I had no one else to speak to.
She leaned closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath through my mask.
"How does it feel," she whispered with a smile, "to get everything you ever wanted snatched from you, sister? I'll be the moon, and you'll be nothing. That's what you'll always be — nothing."