My Fated Mate Can Have Her-Chapter 30: Humiliation

Violet

I did not eat.

I refused to.

A tray was brought day after day and left outside the door. By steps I did not recognize. My senses had heightened more than ever, and despite the slow steady control I was beginning to have over my telekinetic ability, I was finding it hard to finetune my senses.

And it was painful at times.

The noise.

The smells.

And the overbearing discomfort of the clothes on my skin.

Apparently, ever since Kael’s sister had moved into the estate for her visit, servants and attendants were constantly around. Day in, and day out. I would feel Tow’s presence amongst others, and at times Lyra’s, but not once did I step out of the room.

I still did not eat, even though I found myself slowly losing strength more and more. Despite being on the brink of starvation and nearly exhausting my syzygy, basking underneath the sun and moonlight helped immensely.

"Violet?"

I blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. I raised myself slightly from the floor, the sun setting a faint orange glow on my body as light filtered into the room.

Lyra?

"Violet." Her voice was hesitant as it filtered through the closed door. "I... I... with what happened. With Luna Astrid... I’m sorry I couldn’t—" I laid back down, turning my head away from the door. She should just keep quiet and leave me alone.

"Please, I know you’re in there... still alive. Eat something... even if it’s just a little..."

I remained quiet.

"I.. I think you should... you have to apologise to Luna Astrid..."

And after a long silence, I felt the faint drop of the tray in front of the door before Lyra walked off.

I stared at the ceiling.

She was demanding an apology?

My hands clenched at my sides, but I was too tired to hold onto the anger.

The light continued to fade as evening settled over the estate. I should move. Should at least sit up. But my body felt too heavy to move until a sudden rattle at the door startled me from my stupor.

I abruptly sat up and stretched out a hand to the door, keeping it closed shut as the handle continued rattling as someone tried to push it. I felt a faint small familiar figure behind that door.

Her son.

Panic shot through me. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

I was stark naked.

That door must remain shut!

The rattling stopped.

"Why won’t it open?" the child’s voice said, confused now. "It’s not locked..."

I scrambled to my feet, my head spinning from the sudden movement. My legs nearly gave out, but I caught myself against the wall and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Why was he here? Did his mother know he was here?

In that bathroom, I sorted through the wardrobe and grabbed the first thing I could find just as I heard the door to the bedroom open. I sighed, my face tightening with irritation. I had lost concentration for a moment and how could he have entered just like that?

’Why should you be surprised. His mother likely wouldn’t have taught him any manners.’

I walked back into the room to find a small boy around six to eight years old. White blond hair fell in short soft waves around a cute cherubic face that made me stop dead in my tracks. Brown eyes, wide and curious, fixed on me with the unfiltered interest only children possessed.

He was so cute.

"Oh!" His face lit up. "You are here! I thought maybe the room was empty, but Mama said someone took my room."

I stared at him, my mind struggling to catch up.

’Took his room?’

He walked around without invitation. I also looked around. The room didn’t look small enough for a child. Unless it was the guest room he mostly occupied whenever his mother visited the estate?

I closely watched the boy. This was Her son.

Kael’s nephew.

"I..." My voice came out hoarse from not having spoken in so long. I cleared my throat. "I didn’t know. I’m sorry."

The boy looked at me with his head tilted, his expression thoughtful in a way that seemed too old for his age. "Why are you sorry? I am not here all the time." Then he looked away, pouting his lips. "But I really liked this place."

He wandered over to the window, standing on his toes to peer out at the grounds below.

’How do I tell him to leave?’

"What’s your name?" he asked, turning back to me. "Mama said there was someone staying here, but she didn’t tell me your name. She just made a face like this." He scrunched his nose and frowned dramatically, clearly imitating his mother’s expression of distaste.

Despite everything, a startled laugh bubbled up in my throat before I could stop it.

"My name is Monroe. I am six and three quarters. And I can shift into my wolf form already." He huffed and proudly planted his hands on his hips, visibly proud of himself. "Can you shift?"

My smile waned, but a bit of it still lingered on my lips. Sad. "No. I can’t shift."

"Is that why Mama doesn’t like you?"

My breath caught. "What?"

"Why doesn’t she like you?" he asked again. "Did you do something bad?"

"I..." The words stuck in my throat. How could you explain systemic prejudice to a child? "I’m not sure. Sometimes people don’t like other people for reasons that don’t make much sense."

"Hmmm. But people who can’t shift are weak. You don’t seem weak. And Mama always says I should have good reasons for not liking things. Like how I don’t like carrots because they taste like dirt. But that’s a good reason."

I couldn’t help but smile.

"You’re very thin," he observed. "Are you sick? Is that why you haven’t come out of the room? The servants say you’ve been in here for days and days."

"Something like that."

"You should eat more. Mama says growing wolves need lots of food." He paused. "But you’re already grown, aren’t you? So maybe you don’t need as much. But you still look too thin."

Before I could respond, my heightened senses caught something that made my blood run cold.

Footsteps. Familiar ones. Moving quickly down the corridor toward my room.

Astrid.

"Monroe," I said urgently, nudging him toward the door. "You need to go. Right now. Your mother—"

She appeared in the doorway, and her expression shifted from worry to cold fury in an instant when she saw her son standing in my room.

The boy turned to his mother with no apparent sense of having done anything wrong. "I wanted to see who took my room! Mama—"

"Out. Now," she clipped, her voice cold.

His cheerfulness faltered and he trudged towards the door, his shoulders slumped. As he passed his mother, she pulled him against her side with one arm, her other hand smoothing his hair back with surprising gentleness.

The contrast between how she touched her son and how she looked at me was staggering.

I averted my gaze before turning them back to her. Since she was here, I might as well give her the apology she wants.

"Lady Astrid, I apologise for my—"

"Monroe, darling, go find something to do. I will join you soon." Ignoring me, she kissed the top of his head.

Monroe cast one last curious glance at me and walked away. Suddenly, the temperature seemed to drop.

My muscles tensed. Was she going to do what she did the last time?

Astrid didn’t move from the doorway. She didn’t need to. Her presence filled the space, suffocating and absolute.

"My son," she said softly, bending down to pick up one of the bowls from the tray in front of the doorway, "is too young to understand certain things."

It was filled with stew, still steaming.

I frowned. Confused. Was she going to take the food away?

She slowly walked towards me and in a split second, I instantly knew what she was about to do. And it happened faster than I could react.

Hot liquid cascaded over my head, soaking my hair, my face. The heat scalded my scalp. Chunks of meat and vegetables slid down my cheeks, and caught in my tangled hair.

I stood there, frozen, stew dripping from my chin, my clothes clinging to my skin.

"How odd," she whispered in a neutral tone. "that I have to come all the way here for you to give me such measly apology."

She flung the bowl onto the bed and moved towards the door before pausing. "Clean yourself up. You’re disgusting. And stay away from my son."

I said nothing. I couldn’t. I just stood there dripping, the humiliation burning hotter than the stew that slid down my skin.

’I can’t stay here.’