Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 130

130 What I Wouldn’t Admit at Dinner

Arya’s POVOD

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I sucked in a breath, turned, and walked away before I did something reckless like drag him behind a

wall or slap him or both.

By the time I reached Maxwell’s house, the sky had gone dark blue.

Dinner was quieter than usual.

Maxwell ate like he always did, efficiently, without fuss, but I noticed the way his eyes tracked me

once or twice with that infuriating parental perception he seemed to have adopted overnight.

Lev was not at table.

I told myself I was relieved.

I hated that I noticed.

Halfway through the meal, Maxwell set his fork down and said, “The orphanage matron sent word.”

I looked up, wary. “What kind of word?”

“That the children like you.” His mouth twitched. “One of them called you a princess.”

Heat crept up my neck. “She was five.”

Maxwell grunted. “Still accurate enough.”

I looked at my plate to hide the ridiculous flicker of emotion that brought.

He went on, “School tutor says you spotted shortages before he finished explaining them. Health

centre says you reorganised their supply storage and scared two apprentices into labeling things

properly.”

I blinked. “Scared?”

Maxwell speared a piece of meat. “Apparently you looked at them.”

I almost laughed.

He watched me for a moment, then said more quietly, “Thank you. Dragonclaw needed the work done.

I know you knew what I was doing.”

The honesty in it settled something in my chest.

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“Thank you for asking,” I said. “I needed…. something to do.”

He nodded once, accepting that without pushing.

We ate in silence for a while.

Not awkward.

Just full.

Then, because he was Maxwell and apparently enjoyed walking straight into places I was trying very hard not to look at, he asked, “Do you miss Lev?”

My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

I did not answer.

I did not even look up.

Maxwell chuckled under his breath, deep and unbothered. “That much, huh?”

“Maxwell.”

“What?” He leaned back in his chair, entirely too comfortable. “I’m old, not blind.”

I stabbed a piece of food I did not want and put it in my mouth just to avoid speaking.

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He let me suffer for another beat, then threw me a mercy I wasn’t sure I deserved.

“Lev used to be my student,” he said.

That got my attention.

I looked up despite myself. “What?”

His eyes warmed with old memory. “Years ago. Before he became…” He gestured vaguely, meaning all

of it, Blackbirth, Union, power, the weight Lev carried like second skin. “He trained under me for a

stretch. Stubborn even then. Too controlled. Too quiet. Learned fast.”

I stared. Somehow the image fit and didn’t fit at once.

Maxwell snorted. “You look shocked.”

“I just can’t imagine anyone ordering him around.”

That made Maxwell laugh properly. “Oh, I did. He hated it.”

A reluctant smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.

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Maxwell saw it. Of course he saw it.

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“He visits sometimes,” he said, tone turning easier, conversational. “Always in and out. Never stays. This is the longest he’s remained under my roof in years.”

My pulse picked up for no good reason.

Maxwell tore bread and added, casually, “I suspect it’s because of you.”

The smile vanished from my face.

I looked down at the table again, suddenly unable to breathe right.

He watched me for a second, then his voice softened, not pitying, just steady. “I’m not pushing. I’m saying I hope you get past your pain. I hope you move on to better things.”

The words should have comforted me.

Instead they opened a bruise.

Better things sounded beautiful in someone else’s mouth. In mine, it sounded like betrayal of

everything I had lost.

My baby.

My old life.

The woman I was before humiliation and chains and that house and that banquet and that impossible

man who kissed me like war and shelter at the same time.

Before I could answer, or fail to, Maxwell said, quieter, ” Radmir sent word and Lev had to leave in a hurry. He promised to return before you realise it,” He said and I didn’t say anything.

“James reached out.” He added.

My head snapped up.

The room went cold.

I put my fork down very carefully before my hand shook in a way I’d hate.

“I don’t want to hear anything about James.”

The words came flat and immediate, cut from somewhere deep and raw.

Maxwell held my gaze.

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<130 What I Wouldn’t Admit at Dinner

Then he nodded once. “All right.”

No argument.

No lecture.

No you should hear him out.

Just respect.

My throat tightened with gratitude and pain so quickly I had to look away.

We finished the meal in silence.

I was just beginning to think I might make it through the night without another emotional ambush when Maxwell’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced at the screen.

Everything in his face changed.

Not panic.

Attention.

Sharp and immediate.

He read the message once, then again. His jaw set.

I watched him, every nerve in me suddenly alert. “What is it?”

He looked up.

“Radimir wants to see me.” A beat. “Bring the girl.”

For a second I didn’t understand what he meant.

Then I did.

My stomach dropped.

Blackbirth.

L

Union.

Radimir.

The name alone was enough to make the room feel smaller. Head of the Union. The man at the centre

< 130 What I Wouldn’t Admit at Dinner

of the web. Power layered over age, politics layered over blood.

And Blackbirth meant Union territory. Union eyes. Union mouths. Union loyalties.

It meant proximity to everything I was trying not to touch.

It meant danger.

Maxwell was already rising, reading the message again, mind moving ahead.

I stood too. “No.”

He looked at me. “Arya,”

“No.” The word came sharper this time, my pulse kicking hard. “I’m not going.”

He held still, watching me carefully.

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