Chapter 85: Chapter 85: GIRLS’ NIGHT CONFESSIONS

VALORIA WILDEROSE

“What do you mean you’ve never had booze before?” Elodie’s face is twisted with confusion, staring at me like I’m crazy while handing me a very large cup of deep red wine.

I take it carefully, taking in the sweet fruity smell with high expectations.

“My sisters never let me taste it. It was only ever reserved for them,” I reply, taking a sip.

It’s rich and sweet, like honeyed fruits, with a subtle kick at the back of my throat followed by a relaxing feeling in my muscles.

I realize how much I like wine and take a larger gulp.

It’s warm going down, spreading through my chest like a gentle hug from the inside. No wonder my sisters hoarded it for themselves.

“Your sisters sound like real tight-assed bitches,” Elodie snarls.

“Language, Elodie,” Calliope chides her from her spot on the floor.

“What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.” Elodie shrugs without an ounce of remorse.

Like before, we’re all in pajamas, all in Calliope’s room because it’s the biggest and with the prettiest décor ’cause her tastes are immaculate.

Soft candlelight flickers across the walls, and the faint scent of lavender fills the air. It feels safe here. Peaceful. A world away from everything that happened at Wilderose.

Yara and Calliope sit on plushy beanbags on the floor whereas Elodie and I are on the bed. Each of us has a jug of alcohol separate from the crate of it between us on the floor.

Elodie chugs her jug all down until it’s gone and lets out a satisfied sigh.

I watch her in awe, wondering how her throat doesn’t burn from drinking that fast. She catches me staring and winks.

“Your family knows how to make the good stuff, Calliope.”

“Thank you. Our vineyards are rumored to have once belonged to the goddess,” she boasts proudly, carefully sipping hers with a proud smile before Yara quietly fills her cup again.

“Your family has a vineyard?” I ask with a raised brow, learning something about her for the first time.

“The Demetrious family owns more than just a vineyard, Val. They own thousands, along with rich poetry and arts, festivals and beautiful women. They even have a god for everything over there. Their pack is rich rich. Think filthy rich. Think if five of the most powerful packs joined their assets together, theirs would still be significantly bigger.” Elodie goes into detail.

My mind catches the endearing nickname she throws in casually, and my heart grows an extra size.

Calliope frowns at her.

“Don’t exaggerate it.”

Elodie rolls her eyes.

“Don’t downplay it. If I was half as rich as you, I’d make sure everyone knows it.”

“I didn’t know that about your family,” I comment, listening with interest.

It perfectly explains the delicate regal countenance and aura she always has, and her gentle sweet nature—like the princesses in fairytales.

The kind of princess who doesn’t need saving because she already has everything. Yet here she is, in the same situation as the rest of us.

It makes me curious what could have possibly driven her to leave paradise behind.

“My home is a beautiful place. Sometimes I miss it,” Calliope reminisces for a moment with a small smile and longing in her eyes.

“Yet she’s the only one that willingly volunteered to marry His Majesty even though she didn’t need to.”

Calliope throws another glare at Elodie before she sips her drink silently with a huff.

There’s a story there. One she clearly isn’t ready to share, and I’m not going to push. We all have things we’d rather bury.

“What about you, Yara?” I look toward her, sitting and watching Calliope with silent interest.

She looks at me, pulled from deep thoughts, like she’d forgotten she’s part of the conversation, then clears her throat.

“I come from a pack on the northern side of the world where the sun burns hot and the weather is humid most of the year. Though we refer to ourselves as a tribe rather than a pack, we are known for our rich culture and artworks.”

“Plus there are only women in their tribe,” Elodie blurts out.

I almost spit out my drink, forcing the contents of my mouth down with a deep breath before I look at her again with shock and surprise.

“Only women? Then how do you…”

“Once a year on a special holiday, women of age go out to other packs and select worthy men to mate with and bear strong children. They typically return when they are with child,” she explains, understanding my confusion without me needing to say it.

She appears already used to the question.

“If it’s a boy, he’s left with his father, but the girls get to stay to maintain their sacred traditions. Women are believed to be pure and stronger,” Elodie explains further, taking another sip of wine.

“What if she doesn’t want to give up her boy or leave her mate?” I ask.

“There’s always the option of never returning,” Yara fills me in, drinking.

Something flickers in her eyes when she says it—something quick and buried before I can name it. I wonder if she’s ever thought about not returning herself.

I nod silently to myself, amazed at a culture and people I have never heard about from the silent corner under a stairwell I had lived in for all my life.

I’m learning more than I ever have in one conversation about the distant world around me. The world that I want to see for myself one day, when I’m truly free.

Vineyards that stretch to the horizon. Tribes of powerful women. Places where the sun burns hot and traditions run deep. There’s so much more out there than the stairwell I grew up in.

My gaze flickers over to Elodie, bright-eyed and expectant to know what her own family is like.

“Elodie…?”

She avoids my eyes for a moment, glancing back briefly before clearing her throat and setting her cup down. The eagerness to tell a story dies too fast.

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