Chapter 8 - THE SECRET BENEATH HONEY'S NAME
My name wasn't originally Honey Evans.
It was Aurelia Selene Vale.
I discovered that on a cold morning in the Blackwood archives, beneath a painting of a woman who looked so much like me that I stopped breathing.
She had dark eyes.
Chestnut hair.
A small crescent-shaped birthmark beneath her collarbone.
I had the same mark.
Dondre stood beside me.
“Your mother,” he said quietly.
I stared at the painting.
Selene Vale.
The last Moonkeeper.
The woman who had given me away to save my life.
My throat tightened.
“Why did my parents name me Honey?”
Dondre smiled faintly.
“That's something you should ask them.”
I already knew the answer.
My adoptive mother used to call me her little honeybee.
She said I was always searching for the bright things, even on rainy days.
Suddenly, the ordinary nickname became the most precious part of my life.
I touched the painting's frame.
“I think I'll keep Honey.”
Dondre nodded.
“Then Honey it is.”
The archives contained records of the Winter Schism.
I spent three days reading them.
The official history claimed the Moonkeepers had attempted to overthrow the Alpha monarchy.
But the documents told a different story.
The Moonkeepers possessed an ancient ability to witness and dissolve bonds created through coercion.
They could expose false oaths.
Break enchantments.
And restore free choice to wolves whose Alphas had abused authority.
That power threatened rulers who depended on unquestioning obedience.
Dondre's father had been one of them.
I stared at a council decree dated twenty-six years earlier.
All Moonkeeper manifestations are to be registered and restrained pending royal examination.
Below it was the signature of Dondre's father.
I looked up.
“He signed this?”
Dondre nodded.
His face was pale.
“Before I was old enough to challenge him.”
“But you knew about it later.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
His expression changed.
“I knew the decree existed. I didn't know you were connected to it until we met.”
I studied him.
“Did you ever try to repeal it?”
“Twice.”
“What happened?”
“The council blocked both attempts.”
I looked back at the document.
“And you accepted that?”
His eyes filled with something painful.
“I kept telling myself I needed to keep the crown to make changes later.”
I understood the logic.
I didn't like it.
“How many people suffered while you waited?”
He couldn't answer.
On the fourth day, I found a document sealed beneath the royal genealogy.
It contained a marriage record.
Not mine.
Not Dondre's.
Selene Vale and a man named Cassian Ardent.
My biological father.
I stared at his name.
“Who was he?”
Dondre looked toward the window.
“An Alpha commander.”
“Was he killed?”
“He disappeared during the Schism.”
I opened another file.
A photograph appeared.
A tall man with dark hair and gentle eyes stood beside Selene.
He held her hand.
My breath caught.
He looked like me.
The curve of his mouth.
The shape of his nose.
Even the slightly crooked eyebrow.
I touched the photograph.
For the first time in my life, I could see where parts of my face came from.
Then I read the final document.
Cassian Ardent — Presumed Dead Following Transfer to Hollow Crown Facility.
My blood went cold.
Hollow Crown.
The project in the spreadsheets that had cost me my job.
The secret research program that had never truly ended.
I looked at Dondre.
“My father didn't just disappear.”
He studied the file.
Then went very still.
I whispered, “He was taken.”
That evening, I called Evelyn and Thomas.
My mother answered.
I told her what I'd found.
For several seconds, she was silent.
Then she whispered, “I prayed you'd never have to know.”
“Did you know Cassian?”
“Yes.”
“Was he a good man?”
My mother began crying.
“He loved your mother more than anything. He held you for the first three days of your life.”
My eyes filled.
“Then why did he leave?”
“He didn't leave willingly.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother continued.
“The soldiers came for Selene. Cassian stayed behind so we could escape with you.”
I began crying.
“Did she survive?”
A long silence followed.
Then my mother whispered, “Honey, I never saw her again.”
I stared at the old photograph.
My biological parents had sacrificed everything so I could have a life.
A boring job.
A tiny apartment.
Two parents who loved me.
The freedom to complain about rent.
I had once considered those things disappointingly ordinary.
Now I understood what they had cost.
And I knew what I wanted.
Not a crown.
May you like
Not a prophecy.
I wanted to find out what happened to the people who gave me that ordinary life.
