Chapter 53: Wounds that don’t heal

It had been another mentally draining hour of her life.

In that one hour, she had brought Malachi to the healing wing the moment he had started to cough, listened to Moira humiliate and blame her for everything as she hurriedly prepared his herbs, while listening to his breath get worse, then she had helped him take the medicine before he had finally fallen asleep.

Right now, she was sitting by the side of his bed, staring at his face, waiting for him to wake up. There was a small towel by the side, soaked with blood, which she had used to clean and cover up all his wounds that weren’t healing.

The ones he’s gotten from the rogues.

Thankfully, the healing wing had no patients when she came in with him, and judging from Moira and Annelise’s expressions and the fact that Moira hadn’t questioned her about it, they seemed to already know about his...wounds that wouldn’t heal.

Della wasn’t so sure, though, if they knew it was because he had no wolf in him.

When Moira and Annelise weren’t looking, she slid her hand into his and squeezed tightly, urging him to quickly wake up through the bond. It remained silent.

Her hands remained on his even as the women turned back to her. Annelise was especially quiet today, and just kept staring between the two of them over and over again.

Then, she walked over and placed a hand on Della’s shoulders. "His breathing is back to normal. He’s gonna be fine now, you have nothing to worry about."

Della looked up at her and forced a smile, giving her a nod before looking back at Malachi again.

She still couldn’t help herself from worrying about him, even though that should be the least of her concerns now. If anything, she should be even more focused on escaping.

Malachi would never, not in a million years, make her his Luna and risk losing everything. It would have to be the second option, and Della would never live with herself if she was raped by so many men.

Della looked back up at Annelise and smiled again. She wanted to thank her for looking after Lian all these years, but she didn’t want her to know she knew yet. The secret sat between her, Mara and Rowan.

Speaking of Mara...

"Have you seen Mara?" Della asked.

"Mara?"

"Yes, she is assigned to the Workrooms. She was the one who spoke for me the other night..."

"Oh!" Annelise blinked, then she nodded, "Yeah, I think I saw her this morning."

"Is she alright?" Della heaved.

"Yeah," Annelise remembered seeing the maid somewhere around the castle’s corridors this morning, "She looked pretty fine to me. Why do you sound so worried?"

The rogue attack and Mara’s mysterious disappearance flashed in her mind again; then she shook her head softly at Annelise, "Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

Della turned back to Malachi again.

Mara...had returned to the castle?! Why hasn’t she reached out till now? The castle should be abuzz by now that she is back with Malachi.

"How do you know about his injuries that don’t heal?" Moira’s grumpy voice called from across the room.

Della looked at her, "I found out."

"How? By putting him in danger again?!"

"No," She remained calm, "A few days ago, he was attacked by a rogue, and I noticed it was still... bleeding. That was how I found out."

"Huh!" Moira rolled her eyes, venom in them, "You must be so happy right now seeing him lying there like that,"

"What —"

"You escape the first time, and he gets gravely poisoned by Moonfire and almost dies. You repeat it again, and he is poisoned once again by Moonfire. This only confirms by suspicious that you’re the one poisoning him with Moonfire!" She folded her arms together and shook her head, "It still baffles me as to why you’re still alive."

Della didn’t say anything to that, because honestly, she was also surprised.

"Mother!" Annelise snapped too, walking over to where the older woman was sitting, "Stop it! Can’t you see how worried she is about him?!"

"Worried?!" Moira rolled her eyes, "That was the exact same thing you and I thought about that...mate of his. We thought she was worried and she loved him, and she was kind, but you and I know what she turned out to be! She stabbed his daughter in the throat with a smile on her face. How can a mother and a mate be so cruel?" Moira glared at her daughter, very, very hard; then she hissed, "Yet you’re nice to another Rotblood. You disappoint me, Anne."

Della felt as if something had just been ripped out of her chest. Did she just say that... Katherine had killed she and Malachi’s daughter?

She slowly turned back to Malachi, tears filling her eyes. He once had a...child?! Killed in front of his eyes by the person he trusted the most?

It’s no wonder he’s always battling emotions when it came to her. No wonder he would never believe a word she says. Because he hasn’t just been betrayed and broken; he had lost pieces of himself along with it.

Lots and lots of it.

"Della isn’t Katherine!" Annelise whispered to her mother tightly, "She didn’t want to be born a rotblood and hated her whole life!"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Moira hissed again, then pointed at Della, "She was cursed and born like that for a reason! The Moon Goddess knew what she was doing when she cursed her to be a Rotblood and didn’t give her a wolf. She knew she would be a conniving, evil person who would plant Moonfire beneath the altar to try and kill Malachi and her own family! She knew she would attempt to kill her own sister who’s done nothing but love her right from the beginning. The Moon Goddess also knew she would come to this kingdom and put them in jeopardy when she planted Moonfire again in that banner, and hired a werewolf assassin to kill Cornelia!"

"Mother, that’s enough,"

"It’s never enough," Moira shot up from her seat, her voice now loud enough to wake Malachi, but his body even even stir at all, "It would never be enough. All this madness would only come to an end when she dies! When she dies and lets us all rest! She’s foul and filthy and should have been killed when she was a child," Moira then looked straight into Annelise’s eyes and uttered, "I know for sure that I would have killed you if you were born a rotblood!"

Annelise froze, and all the colour drained from her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but tears rolled down her eyes instead. It was very clear that her mother’s words had hurt her so deeply.

"Focus on me, Veinseer," Della stated, squeezing Malachi’s hand as though that would give her strength. Maybe it did. "Don’t start pouring your anger and hatred on your own blood."

"You dare to lecture me?!" Moira rounded at her again.

"No," Della replied, "I dare to make you stop before you say something else to your daughter that you can’t take back."

"I was making a point!" Moira turned to her daughter sharply, "Why are you crying? I was only making a point about Rot-bloods! About how much I hate them!"

"Forgot it, Mother," Annelise shook her head, wiping her tears, "You just keep saying whatever you feel like saying, whenever you feel like it. I hope it pays off one day, and I hope it pays off real good."

Annelise turned to Della, "Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. You already have enough to worry about,"

"She’s not worried about anything. She’s happy!" Moira insisted.

"I don’t say this often," Annelise looked directly onto nher mother’s eyes, "but you’re really starting to get on my nerves. Do not make the love I have for you wither,"

"How dare you speak to me that way, young woman?" Moira unleashed all her energy, "I am your mother!"

"And I am your daughter!!" Annelise stepped closer to her, "A daughter you should be grateful that always tolerates you. That hasn’t left you like all your other children! And if you keep this up, you probably won’t be seeing me anymore too."

Moira’s mouth was left hanging wide open, "You... would leave me... because of her?" She pointed at Della scornfully.

"This has nothing to do with her. It’s your temper! It wasn’t because of her your other children left you now, was it?"

The strength in the woman’s leg vanished, and she fella back to her seat with a bitter expression in her eyes.

When she looked up again, she was staring at Della.

Or rather, glaring at her.

Della lowered her gaze again, and her thumb brushed lightly over the back of his hand without thinking.

"I hope," She whispered, almost to herself, "that one day you stop looking at me the way everyone else does."

A low cough suddenly broke the silence, and every person present whipped their heads toward the bed.

Malachi’s brows drew together, and his fingers twitched beneath Della’s hand. Then, slowly, his fingers curled around hers, holding her hands too.

He held it so tight.

A small smile touched her face.

Then, slowly...his eyes opened.