The Abandoned Luna's Journey to Power Chapter 343: A Sense of Powerlessness

Cindy's POV:

"Cindy," Diana's voice suddenly cut through my thoughts, sharp and alert. "Are you suspecting that he's been pretending this whole time?"

"Yes," I replied. "Think about it, Diana. Why did the previous King—Adam's grandfather—give Prince Niall territory in the east, so close to the Royal Court?

"His territory isn't large, but it's strategically vital. It's the gateway to the east. If the old king really believed Prince Niall was just a useless party animal, he could've just sent him to the far south or to Liberty City to live comfortably as a rich nobody. But instead, he kept him right under his nose. Was that out of love, or was it secret surveillance?"

I turned my head to look at Viola, who was still staring at the ceiling.

"Viola," I said quietly, breaking the silence. "You and Fern handle intelligence work. Have you ever heard about Prince Niall expanding the army in his territory? Or anything unusual about the Scarlet Pack's military growth?"

Viola was taken aback, then went into deep thought.

After a moment, she shook her head. "No. The number of soldiers in Prince Niall's territory has always been strictly limited by the Royal Court. As for the Scarlet Pack, they mainly control mines and some small mercenary groups. On the surface, they don't have enough firepower to threaten the Royal Court's army."

As she spoke, her tone became uncertain. Uneasiness slowly appeared in her eyes.

"But now that you mention it, I'm getting the creeps." Viola sat up and wrapped the blanket around herself. "If Prince Niall is planning something, marrying me might not just be about the Blaze Pack's soldiers. Don't forget, my family has a massive influence in the southern guilds and merchant unions. War costs money!"

"If he wants to use this marriage to reach into the southern moneybags..."

Viola sucked in a sharp breath.

All these questions tangled together like an invisible net, trapping us inside and making it hard to breathe.

"I don't care what he's planning."

I pulled a worn, washed-out handkerchief from my pocket.

I found it this afternoon beside Sephiria's bed. It had a tiny, washed-out lily of the valley embroidered on it—my mother's favorite flower to sew. I held the handkerchief tightly, as if I could draw strength from it.

"I won't let him get what he wants," I said through clenched teeth. My voice was low but firm. "As long as Sephiria has one breath left, I'll stay here. I want to see what tricks that old fox can still pull."

Outside, heavy snow kept falling, as if it wanted to bury all the evil in the world.

The Moon Goddess Festival was coming up.

Normally, it was the happiest and liveliest time for werewolves.

But here at Coldmoon Monastery, there was nothing but endless cold and silence.

I curled up into a tight ball, trying to keep warm.

Since returning in triumph from Southreach, this was the first time I felt so powerless.

The pride of being a Duchess and the joy of finding my mate felt so small and empty compared to the misery of this dying woman.

In the face of such cruelty and the tricks of fate, the strength I was once proud of couldn't even save a soul that had already withered.