The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 379

Chapter 379: The King is Sick
(Third Person).

Wanda stood before the mirror, tilting her chin slightly as her reflection stared back at her, polished, poised, and perfect, just as she had always been trained to be.

The white dress she wore stopped neatly at her knees, its fabric smooth against her skin. But even in its elegance, it did nothing to hide the faint tension in her eyes.

With a sigh, she reached for the ivory blazer draped across the chair and set it lightly over her shoulders. Then, she grabbed her handbag, her phone, and walked toward the door, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

As she descended the grand staircase, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the golden curls framing her face.

She unlocked her phone with a practiced swipe, scrolling through her contacts until she found the name she had avoided for weeks, and had been trying to reach since morning, Draven.

Her thumb hovered over it for a moment.

It had been quite some weeks since he had sent her away with just the cold weight of banishment and humiliation.

Once, she had been someone important beside him. People had whispered her name with admiration, envy even. Now, they had already forgotten her glory.

Her jaw clenched at the thought.

Since returning to Stormveil, she had locked herself within her father’s estate, unable to face the eyes and whispers she knew awaited beyond the gates.

But the silence was beginning to choke her. And no matter how much she told herself that she hated Draven for what he did to her—the embarrassment and the distance, the truth was far simpler, and far more painful.

She missed him. Terribly.

Taking a breath, Wanda pressed Call.

The line rang as she reached the sitting area and sank gracefully into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other.

Her gaze fell absently on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, but her mind was far away, imagining the sound of his voice, the weight of his presence, the way he used to look at her whenever she did something right in his sight.

“Where is my father?” she asked as one of the servants passed by, bowing slightly.

“He will be with you in three minutes, Ma’am,” the servant replied.

Then, she waved her away without looking up.

On the other hand, the phone continued to ring. Then it stopped.

Wanda’s lips turned slightly into a mix of bitterness and resignation. Of course, he wouldn’t still take her calls.

She stared at the screen for a long second before redialing it.

This time, she held the phone closer to her ear, listening to each ring, hoping he would pick up just once—if not to forgive her, then at least to hear her voice.

But again, it went unanswered.

Her chest tightened, though her expression remained composed, her back straight against the sofa.

Still, she didn’t hang up immediately. She stared at his name on the screen, whispering quietly under her breath, her voice a low murmur of defiance,

“You can ignore my calls, Draven, but you can’t do without me. I am irreplaceable. You will need my help soon.”

The words hung in the air like a promise or a curse.

Just then, the soft creak of the doors made her stiffen. She quickly slipped her phone into her handbag and rose to her feet, straightening her dress as her father stepped into the sitting room.

His gaze landed on her, and for a brief second, his lips curled in disdain. Wanda braced herself.

“Father,” she greeted, forcing a smile.

Reginald didn’t return it. “Save your greetings,” he said curtly, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as he crossed the room. “King Alderic is sick. The meeting today has been canceled.”

Wanda blinked. “Sick?”

He shot her a sharp look that made her words falter. Then, with a sneer that cut deeper than any insult, he said, “Don’t look so shocked. It’s not as if the King’s health concerns you.”

“Of course it does, Father, I—”

But Reginald was already turning away, muttering something under his breath before leaving the sitting room entirely.

The air felt heavier once he was gone.

Wanda stood there, unmoving, the echo of his shoes fading down the hall.

Her father’s disdain never failed to sting, no matter how used to it she had become. She knew he had never forgiven her for losing Draven’s favor and for failing to secure the influence and status he wanted from her.

And now, this sudden news…

Her thoughts shifted back to King Alderic. For the meeting to be canceled, the sickness had to be serious. The King was not one to postpone political matters lightly.

Her heart raced with a mix of unease and intrigue.

Draven needed to know this. If their King was ill, everything—the hierarchy, even the balance between packs could shift overnight.

She reached for her phone again, staring at Draven’s name in her call history. She contemplated calling him, her jaw tightening, but suddenly, she changed her mind.

She thought of her brother, Levi, immediately.

Scrolling quickly, she found his number and hit call. He picked up on the third ring, his voice light but slightly winded, as though he had been exercising.

“Wanda? It’s been a while. How are you holding up?”

She gave a dry chuckle. “Still the same. Father hasn’t changed either.”

“I didn’t think he would.” There was a pause, then his tone softened. “Did something happen?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, seizing the moment. “Father said King Alderic is sick. They were supposed to meet today, but he canceled. It sounded serious.”

Levi hummed thoughtfully. “That’s not good news.”

“Exactly. That’s why I want you to tell Draven,” she said. “He should hear it from us before it spreads. You are still in touch with him, aren’t you?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. Then Levi responded carefully, “You can tell him yourself, Wanda. You have his number.”

“I’ve been trying!” she snapped, her composure slipping for a second. “He isn’t picking up my calls.”

Levi sighed. “Then send him a message. Text him if you have to.”

She hesitated, staring at the phone like it might burn her fingers. “A text?” she said quietly, almost as if the idea was beneath her.

“Yes, Wanda,” Levi replied gently but firmly. “A text. I have to go—training is not over yet. Take care of yourself, alright?”

Before she could respond, the line clicked, and he was gone.

Wanda lowered the phone slowly, her expression tightening. For a long time, she sat there in silence, feeling that same familiar ache—the one that came whenever Draven’s name was mentioned.

Finally, she exhaled, unlocked her phone again, and opened her messages. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard for several seconds before she began to type.