Riven’s brows lowered. His voice steadied, cautious. “Freya… was something removed from the house?”
Kael noticed it too—the absence of the framed drawing he’d given her. He tugged at her sleeve, panic rising. “Mother, where’s my picture? Where did it go?”
Freya gently shook off his hand. She took a drink of water before replying, unhurried, “Those things were cluttering the place. I sold them to the scrap collectors.”
Hearing that, Riven quietly exhaled in relief. As long as his secret stayed buried, nothing else mattered. Even if he betrayed her, in his heart Freya was still the only Luna he acknowledged.
His expression eased. He leaned down and lightly pinched Kael’s somber cheeks.
“This little saying means ‘Clear away the old to welcome the new,’” Riven told him gently. “Your mother is simply encouraging you to draw a fresh family portrait. After all, our little Kael has grown so much.”
Kael believed every word. He threw himself into Freya’s arms and chirped, “Mother, I’ll make lots and lots of new portraits for you!”
Well! Clear away the old to welcome the new, huh?
Freya’s eyes filled with quiet mockery—so this “old Luna and old mother” was meant to be cleared aside for young, radiant Sorenna.
A faint scent of food lingered in the den, catching Riven’s attention. His gaze fell on the pot of moon-beast stew still warm in the trash bin and surprise flickered across his features.
“Freya,” he murmured, “did you prepare dinner last night?”
“I haven’t cooked in a while,” she replied coolly. “It tasted terrible, so I threw it out.”
She could not fathom why he cared. Even Kael clinging to her leg felt suffocating.
She abruptly stood and brushed them off, claiming she felt unwell before heading upstairs.
The moment she closed her bedchamber door, her crystal comms buzzed relentlessly. Opening it, she saw three images from Sorenna.
The first one was Sorenna holding a bouquet of crimson fire-roses, posing beside Riven and Kael.
The second one showed the trio sharing a meal in the Moonfeast Restaurant—the one Freya had reserved weeks ago.
The last one was a close-up of an emerald moon-bracelet… on Sorenna’s wrist.
As Freya stared at the intimate warmth in those photos, the dull ache in her chest sharpened into something merciless—each beat of her heart felt like a claw raking her from within.
A memory surfaced through the haze.