His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: LATE NIGHT WALKS

Verity’s Perspective

Several days slipped by in a heavy silence.

The nurse came and went quietly, her footsteps barely audible in the dimly lit chamber. Doctors appeared intermittently, checking my vitals with practiced hands but offering little more than professional detachment. Their eyes betrayed them, though—uncertainty, pity, and a flicker of curiosity danced behind their guarded gazes. To them, I was still the strange, mute girl dragged from the depths of the dungeons, an enigma wrapped in silence.

I didn’t resent the quiet. In fact, I was accustomed to it; silence had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember.

Yet, despite this familiarity, the isolation gnawed at me, a persistent ache beneath my skin.

That night, I sat curled beneath the thin blanket, knees drawn close to my chest, my fingers tracing the faint veins on my arm in a distracted rhythm. The door creaked open softly, breaking the stillness. My head snapped up, and there he stood—Cassian.

The king.

Once again.

He looked weary, draped entirely in black as if he were a shadow cast by the night itself. His usual regal bearing was diminished, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, weighed down by the invisible burden of his crown. His dark eyes met mine, unreadable and deep as the ocean.

“Would you like to take a walk?” he asked, his voice low and rough, as if starved of conversation for hours.

I blinked, startled.

A walk?

My mind scrambled to catch up with his words, but I remained silent, stunned. Then, slowly, he stepped closer and extended his hand toward me. I hesitated, staring at the unfamiliar gesture as if it belonged to someone else.

After a long pause, my hand moved toward his—tentative, trembling. The moment our skin touched, a rush of warmth and electricity surged through me, shooting straight to my heart like a bolt of lightning. The same tingling sensation I’d felt that day in the garden of Valcaryn returned in full force. I gasped softly, my fingers trembling within his grasp.

His eyes widened in surprise. He had felt it too.

His body stiffened, and his lips parted as if to speak, but then he cleared his throat abruptly, pulling his hand back just enough to break contact.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he muttered.

I only nodded in response.

“Can you walk?” he asked gently.

I rose slowly, every muscle aching but my strength returning bit by bit. I nodded again.

And so, we set off.

We moved through the cold stone corridors, expecting to pass guards who would avert their eyes deliberately. Yet, the halls were eerily silent, almost deserted. Even the candles flickering along the walls burned without a sound. I glanced at Cassian once or twice; he seemed distracted—not tense, but lost deep in thought, troubled.

We descended smooth marble steps and turned a corner. That’s when the garden appeared before us.

I stopped at the entrance, my breath catching in my throat.

Memories crashed over me like relentless waves.

That night.

The soft glow of moonlight filtering through heavy rose bushes. Prince Theron’s hand holding mine, his gentle smile as he whispered the word “mate” as if it were sacred. But then his expression froze, and his hand slipped away when he realized he had mistaken me for someone else.

And then, the sharp sting of rejection.

Pain blossomed in my chest, raw and fresh as if the wound had been torn open again.

I took a hesitant step backward, nails digging into my palm.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian’s voice cut through the fog clouding my mind.

I found no words to answer.

He sighed softly. “Right… you can’t talk.” There was a pause. “Come on.”

He led me deeper into the garden, and I followed, uncertain.

Why had he chosen this place? Just days ago, I was a prisoner locked away in his dungeons, and now… here I was, walking in the royal garden in the dead of night, accompanied by the king himself.

“I’ll get you a teacher,” he said after a while. “Someone to help you learn to read and write. You’ll need it. Speaking can only get us so far—especially if there’s ever a moment when you have to explain something important.”

I frowned, unsure how to feel about this. A teacher? More strangers?

Still, I had to admit, he was probably right.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, curiosity mingling with caution.

Who was this man?

Why did he shift like this—sometimes hot with passion, then warm with kindness, then cold and distant again?

One moment, he risked everything to rescue me from the dungeon. The next, he was unreadable and aloof. And now, here he was, bringing me to his private refuge and speaking to me as if I mattered.

Maybe he was just as confused about me as I was about him.

He leaned back on the bench, stretching one arm along the backrest but careful not to touch me. He exhaled deeply and said,

“Just… enjoy the scenery, Verity.”

My head snapped toward him.

Verity.

He said my name again.

And this time, it didn’t sound strange.

It sounded like recognition.

Like we had known each other forever.

I turned back to the water, unsure of my feelings. But as the soft breeze caressed my skin and the moonlight bathed me gently, I allowed myself to breathe.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I breathed without fear.