Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 288

288 Silk, Scorn, and the Hand That Rose 3

Arya’s POVO

The town nearest Blackbirth was not sleepy the way some old pack territories were. It was elegant in that old-money, dangerous-house kind of way. Clean streets. Polished stone storefronts. Private security in discreet dark suits outside certain boutiques. Expensive cars. Women who smelled like perfumes I could never name and men who looked like they had never once carried their own problems. The kind of place where everything was pretty and almost nothing was innocent. Tamara loved it.

She dragged me first into a dress boutique that looked like it had been built for women with sh

sharp shoulders and expensive problems. The saleswomen recognised her immediately, which did not surprise me. One nearly tripped over herself trying to offer champagne before eleven in the morning. Tamara accepted like royalty born into the habit of being adored. I let myself be pulled into it.

Dress after dress appeared. Silks, satins, fitted waists, open backs, narrow straps, old-money creams, dangerous reds, deep greens, pale golds. Tamara tried on everything with the energy of a woman auditioning for her own legend. Some dresses made her look too young. Some too polished. Some too

pretty in a boring way. When she came out in a midnight-blue gown with a fitted bodice and a skirt that

moved like dark water, she turned once in the mirror and put a hand dramatically to her chest.

“This,” she declared.

“Yes,” I said.

She pointed at me.

“You have to find something better.”

“That sounds impossible.”

“As it should.”

Then she started choosing things for me with the terrifying conviction of someone who truly believed she understood my body and my fate better than I did. Most of what she picked was ridiculous. One was too soft. One was too bright. One looked like a frightened swan had died for it. When I came out wearing a deep green gown cut close to the body with a neckline elegant enough not to feel vulgar and a skirt that moved without swallowing me whole, Tamara went quiet for one full beat. That alone told

me enough.

Then she pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Lev is going to be useless.”

<288 Silk Scorn and the Hand That Rose 3

I rolled my eyes, but I still turned toward the mirror. The colour made my skin look warmer. The fit made me look taller somehow. Sleeker. It was feminine without feeling fragile. Beautiful without begging for attention. The sort of dress that did not ask the room for permission to be seen. I touched the fabric lightly.

Tamara stepped closer behind me, her expression softer now.

“That’s the one.”

Maybe it was. Maybe I wanted it to be because I could already imagine the weight of Lev’s gaze on it, and that alone was embarrassing enough to make me want to reject it out of principle. Instead I said nothing. Tamara grinned because she knew silence from me often meant yes.

We bought the dresses. And shoes. And jewellery. And a wrap I insisted I did not need until she bullied me into admitting it looked good. I used Lev’s card the first time with a strange reluctance that annoyed me. By the third shop it no longer felt like an intrusion so much as a challenge. If he was going to hand me freedom dressed as permission, then I would not insult either of us by acting timid with it. Tamara approved of that shift immensely.

“Yes,” she said as we left one boutique with too many bags. “That. That is exactly how you should use

a man’s money when he gives it willingly. With confidence.”

“That sounds like terrible advice.”

“It’s excellent advice.”

“It sounds like something that gets women murdered in lesser households.”

She laughed.

“Then good thing we’re not in a lesser household.”

That line stayed with me longer than it should have. Not because I trusted houses. I didn’t. But

because she said we with no hesitation. No carefulness. No testing whether I belonged inside the sentence. We. The word sat strangely warm in my chest,

By the time we stopped for ice cream, the morning had tilted into afternoon and the edges of the day had softened with it. Tamara insisted on pistachio and hazelnut and then complained mine looked better. I told her she was a thief in silk. She told me she was a birthday girl and therefore above morality. We walked slowly down a shaded avenue with shopping bags hanging from our wrists and cold sweetness melting against our tongues like we were two ordinary women with ordinary lives and nothing waiting for us back in a house full of wolves. It felt dangerously nice.

Tamara licked a drop from the side of her finger and made a face.

<PA Silk Scorn, and the Hand That Rose 3

“You know what I don’t understand?”

“Many things.”

“Rude.”

“You invited it.”

She bumped her shoulder against mine.

“I don’t understand why Radimir still insists on dragging this nonsense with Mary.”

There it was again. Not random. Not careless. Genuine irritation sitting right under all her brightness

glanced at her.

“Because old men rarely know when to stop forcing a bad idea.”

“He knows Lev doesn’t want her.”

“That has never stopped him.”

Tamara scoffed.

“He acts as if he can schedule desire like a meeting.”

“That sounds exactly like something he would believe.”

She sighed dramatically.

“And Diana is even worse. She walks around with that look on her face like she’s already writing

invitations for a future that doesn’t belong to her.”

I let my spoon drag through the melting ice cream once.

“She’s very invested.”

“She’s very annoying.”

“That too.”

Tamara’s mouth twisted.

“I need them both back in Greenwich. Their bags. Their perfume. Their political delusions. All of it.”

“What did Greenwich do to deserve that?”

She laughed.

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288 Silk Scom and the Hand That Rose 3

“Nothing, but it’s their home and I want them in it.”

I smiled despite myself. The restaurant she dragged me to after that was the kind of place where the

glasses were too thin, the tablecloths were too white, and the waiters moved like people had trained

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