The Princess's Revenge Chapter 77

Valencia’s POV

I woke to soreness between my legs. My whole body ached from last night. My face burned just thinking about it.

"You're awake."

I turned my head. Logan was already dressed, fastening his leather doublet. His movements were efficient.

"What time is it?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Almost five." He glanced at me. "How do you feel?"

"Sore." I sat up slowly, wincing. The blanket fell away from my bare shoulders.

A week ago, I would have been dragged from my straw mat at four in the morning. Forced to scrub floors until my hands bled. Now I was waking up in the Alpha's bed, my biggest worry being that I'd slept later than him again.

"I should have woken up first," I muttered, embarrassed. "You're the Alpha. I should be serving you breakfast by now."

"Stop that." Logan sat on the edge of the bed and kissed my forehead. "Get dressed. The ash ceremony is soon."

I looked toward the window. Still pitch black outside. "Are you worried?" I asked, watching his face.

His jaw tightened slightly. "No."

"Logan."

He sighed. "Maybe a little."

"Afraid they’re not forgiving you?"

"Mmm..." He stood up, pacing to the window. "Facing them again. Looking at their faces. Knowing I caused their grief."

I got out of bed, wrapping the blanket around myself. My legs were shaky, but I walked to him anyway. "You're the anchor of this pack. The only reason the border has been safe all these years."

"But - ."

"Logan, listen to me." I touched his arm. "Every pack member trusts you. They're grateful for you."

He was quiet, staring out the window.

"You've protected them for years," I continued. "One mistake doesn't erase all of that. They know what you've done for them. The sacrifices you've made."

"You really believe that?"

"I know it." I squeezed his arm. "You're their protector. Without you, Cliffwatch Pack would have fallen three years ago."

He looked down at me. "You really believe they still trust me?"

"I know they do." I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. "The pack knows who you are. What you've done for them. They just need to hear you acknowledge their pain."

"I will apologize." His voice was quiet.

"I'm with you." I squeezed his hand.

He pulled me against him, holding me tight. I could feel tension in every muscle of his body.

"I should get dressed," I said against his chest.

"Yes." But he didn't let go immediately. When he finally released me, his face was back to that blank expression.

I found my clothes from yesterday. They smelled like smoke from the funeral, and the fabric was stiff with dried sweat. The sleeve was burned at the edges where a spark must have caught it. This was the dress Delphine had given me. My chest tightened with guilt. She'd been so kind to me, and now I'd ruined her gift. I shook out the worst of the wrinkles.

"Don't wear that."

I turned. "What?"

"There are clothes on the table. Wear those."

"What clothes?" I looked at the table by the window. My breath caught.

A brand new chemise lay folded neatly. Next to it was a bliaut in deep blue silk that shimmered even in the dim light. And beside those... my eyes widened. Gold. A necklace with a sapphire pendant. A bracelet. A ring. All gold, all real, all impossible.

I stared at them, then at Logan, then back at the clothes. "Are these... are these for me?"

"Yes."

"But these are..." I walked closer, my hand hovering over the silk. "Logan, these are noble clothes. These jewels... this is what a lady wears."

"Valencia." His voice was firm. "Put them on."

My hands were shaking. "This is really for me? You're not joking?"

A small smile played at his lips. "Why would I joke about this?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm still dreaming. Maybe I never woke up."

"You're awake." He walked toward the door. "Get dressed."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To ring the bell. Come to the courtyard when you're ready." He opened the door, then paused. "Don't take too long."

The door closed behind him, and I was alone with the most beautiful clothes I'd ever seen.

I turned back to the table, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch the silk. It was soft. Softer than anything I'd ever felt. The chemise was made of linen so fine it was almost translucent. I held it up to the candle light, marveling at how delicate it was.

This couldn't be real. This impossible dream just kept going. I stripped off my old clothes quickly, tossing them in the corner. The chemise slipped over my head, so light I could barely feel it against my skin. No rough patches. No scratchy seams. Just smooth, perfect comfort.

The bliaut came next. My fingers fumbled with the laces. The silk was heavy but not uncomfortable. It fell to my ankles in perfect folds, the blue color rich even in the darkness.

I walked to the mirror. It was polished metal, so my reflection was slightly distorted. But I could see enough. The girl looking back at me didn't look like a slave. She looked like... someone else.

I picked up the gold necklace, feeling its weight. The sapphire was the size of my thumbnail, catching every bit of light in the room. The bracelet was thick, with intricate patterns carved into the gold. The ring was simpler but still beautiful, with a small blue stone that matched the necklace.

They were too much. The necklace and bracelet were too obvious, too grand. People would stare. They'd whisper.

I put the necklace and bracelet back on the table. The ring, though... the ring was small enough. I slipped it onto my finger. I excitedly held up my hand to admire the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly.

Three long rings of the bell echoed through the castle. The assembly signal. My stomach clenched.

I took a deep breath. Then another. I straightened my shoulders and walked to the door. My hand hesitated on the handle. Once I walked out dressed like this, everything would change. The pack would see me differently. They'd judge.

I wasn't sure what people would think when they saw how I was dressed. All I could do was try to act natural, not be afraid of their stares. I gathered my courage and opened the door.

I walked down the stairs, the silk dress swishing around my legs. Such a strange feeling after years of rough wool and torn cotton. At the bottom of the stairs, I paused.

Maybe I should go back and change. The blue silk suddenly felt too much, too obvious. My hands smoothed down the fabric nervously. The ring caught the torchlight, sending tiny sparkles across the stone wall. Even that small piece of jewelry felt like the noon sun.

"Valencia?"

I spun around. Dr. Vance stood behind me in the corridor, carrying a leather satchel. His eyes flashed with shock for just a moment before his expression smoothed into a natural smile.

"You look lovely," he said warmly.

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Thank you," I replied awkwardly.

"Are you ready for the ceremony?" Dr. Vance asked, adjusting the strap of his satchel.

"I think so." But even as I said it, my stomach churned with anxiety. "Actually, I feel a bit uncomfortable. I need to go back for a moment."

I started to turn toward the stairs, but Dr. Vance seemed to see right through my intention. He smiled and gently took my arm, guiding me toward the courtyard instead.

"No need," he said kindly. "You look perfect as you are."

"But Dr. Vance, this dress... these clothes... everyone will stare."

"Of course they will," he agreed. "You're beautiful."

My face burned hotter. "That's not what I meant. I meant they'll think it's inappropriate."

"Valencia." Dr. Vance stopped walking and turned to face me. "What did Alpha Logan tell you yesterday?"

I bit my lip. "That he's announcing me as his Luna today."

"Exactly."

"But I still wear the collar," I protested, touching the heavy iron around my neck. "Until that comes off, I'm still—"

"You're Alpha Logan's chosen Luna," Dr. Vance interrupted gently. "The collar is just metal. It doesn't define who you are."

We resumed walking toward the courtyard. I could hear voices ahead, pack members gathering for the ceremony. It was still dark outside, and much cooler than it was during the day.

I saw their faces in the torchlight. Heavy. Exhausted. Some hadn't slept at all - dark circles under red eyes. Others had clearly been crying again. Fresh tears on weathered cheeks.

A woman held her daughter's hand. The girl couldn't be more than four. She kept asking where daddy was. The mother just shook her head, unable to speak.

An old man leaned on a walking stick, his son's sword hanging at his hip now. He'd lost his only child.

More people filed in. Warriors, servants, even the children. Everyone who could walk was here.

There wasn't the disdainful look I had imagined. Everyone was immersed in sadness, which made me feel a bit more at ease.

Logan stood at the front, on the same platform where the funeral pyre had been. His face showed nothing, but I knew him now. I could see the tension in his shoulders.

Logan raised his hand. The crowd fell silent. "We go now to the eastern cliff," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "To release our dead to the wind. To send them to the Moon Goddess."

No one spoke. A few people nodded. Most just stared at him with those hollow, grieving eyes.

"Follow me," Logan said.

He stepped down from the platform. Dr. Vance and several servants appeared, carrying the clay urns. We walked in silence. Logan led, his back straight, every step measured. I stayed in the crowd, but close enough that he could see me if he turned.

The path to the eastern cliff was steep. Some of the elderly struggled. Warriors helped them without being asked.

The sky was starting to lighten. Not sunrise yet, but that gray pre-dawn that made everything look ghostly. The trees were dark shadows against the slowly brightening sky. No birds sang yet. Even nature seemed to respect our grief.

My legs burned from the climb. Others were breathing hard too. But no one complained. The cliff came into view. The same one where I'd found Logan last night. The wind hit us immediately. Strong and cold, whipping hair and clothes.

Everyone spread out along the cliff edge. The servants placed the urns carefully on the ground. Logan stood at the center, the wind making his doublet flap.

He looked at the crowd. Then his eyes found mine. I nodded, trying to put all my strength into that simple gesture.

You can do this. I believe in you.

Logan took a breath. "Brothers and sisters of Cliffwatch Pack."

His voice fought against the wind. Everyone leaned in to hear.

"We stand here to release our dead. To send them home." He paused, and I saw his throat work as he swallowed. "But first, I need to say something."

The crowd shifted. Confused. I was starting to get nervous too. My hands were unconsciously clenching into fists.

"I failed you." The words came out rough. "I led our warriors into an ambush. My arrogance, my stupidity, cost their lives."

Gasps from the crowd. An Alpha admitting failure? It was unheard of.

"I cannot bring them back," Logan continued. "I cannot undo my mistake. But I want you to know—" His voice cracked slightly. "I carry this. I will always carry this. Your loved ones died because I wasn't careful enough. Because I thought I was invincible."

Tears were flowing now. Not just from the families, but from warriors who'd never cried in public before.

"I'm sorry." The words were barely audible over the wind, but everyone heard them. "I'm so sorry."

Silence. Complete silence except for the wind.

Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a voice: "We still trust you, Alpha."

It was one of the warriors. Young, maybe seventeen. His arm was still bandaged.

"Please keep leading us," he continued, louder now.

Another voice joined in. "My son died fighting. He died protecting our home. That's an honorable death."

More voices now. Not everyone. Some stayed silent, their grief too fresh. But that was enough. I was glad for Logan, the pack members hadn’t lost faith in him.

Logan's face remained blank. I saw his hands shaking slightly.

"Thank you," he said simply. Then he turned to the urns. "Let us send them home."

The sun was rising now. Golden light spilled across the cliff, warming our faces. The wind had calmed to a gentle breeze.

One by one, families came forward. They took their urns to the cliff edge. Opened them. Let the wind take the ashes, carrying them up and out over the valley below.

Some said prayers. Others just cried. A few spoke names, messages to the dead.

When it was done, Logan stepped back from the edge. The crowd began to disperse, heading back down the path.

I pushed through the remaining people until I reached him. Without caring who saw, I wrapped my arms around him.

He was trembling. His whole body shaking as he held me.

"You did it," I whispered. "You were perfect."

"They forgave me," he said against my hair, his voice full of disbelief.

"Some of them. That's enough for now."

"I don't deserve—"

"Yes, you do." I pulled back to look at his face. "You're a good Alpha, Logan. You made a mistake, but you're still a good Alpha."