The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 433

Chapter 433: Fell to Death
[Meredith].

‘New nanny? How?’ I narrowed my eyes just slightly. I wasn’t angry, merely analyzing.

Why hadn’t Draven mentioned this? Why was Xamira’s room so bare? And why did ‘new’ sound like it carried weight?

I kept my expression composed.

Xamira climbed onto the bed beside me, leaning against my arm, comfortable and trusting. I brushed a hand through her soft hair. Then, I focused once more on the maid.

“A new nanny,” I repeated softly. “When did you start?”

The young woman straightened again, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

“Early this morning, my lady. Madame Beatrice assigned me as soon as she received Alpha Draven’s instructions.”

My brows lifted just a fraction.

Draven?

I hadn’t known he made arrangements for Xamira’s care so quickly.

My thoughts flicked back to Duskmoor—to the other nanny who used to look after Xamira with gentle hands and warm stories. She had been with Xamira for years, from what I knew.

“What happened to the nanny who served her in Duskmoor?” I asked.

The new nanny blinked. “I… do not know, my lady. I was only informed that the child required a caretaker here, and I was chosen.”

Her tone was respectful, her posture straight, but there was no nervousness or fluster—just calm obedience.

Regardless, something tugged at me.

I wasn’t sure why I was suspicious. Perhaps it was how quietly this nanny carried herself.

Or maybe it was simply the weight of wanting to ensure Xamira was safe in a place that was no longer familiar to her.

My eyes drifted over the nanny’s frame—her shoulders, her stance, the way she kept her weight evenly distributed on both feet. It wasn’t a typical servant’s posture.

“Your name?” I asked.

“Lucy, my lady.”

“And you train often?”

There wasn’t even a beat of hesitation. She bowed her head slightly. “Yes, my lady.”

Xamira hummed beside me, leaning against my arm as though all was right in her world. And I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily.

But inside me, a slight note of caution tightened. Draven chose her. Which meant she was competent.

But why a combat-trained woman for this role? I didn’t know. Only Draven could answer that.

For now, I gave Lucy a brief nod, dismissing her quietly so she would step back and give us space.

Then I turned to Xamira and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Well,” I said gently, “shall we take a walk outside?”

Instantly, her entire face lit up like dawn breaking over snow. “Yes!” she exclaimed, gripping my hand tightly.

Xamira swung our linked hands as we walked, humming a tune she must have learned in Duskmoor.

The morning air in Stormveil was colder—crisp, a little biting, but she didn’t seem to mind, her small steps bright with energy.

The estate grounds were beautiful, yet intimidating. High stone walls, carved arches, towering ancient pines—everything here felt like history.

Servants we passed bowed respectfully. Some quietly murmured to each other once I walked past—soft, indistinct whispers that carried neither insult nor praise.

It was just a calculation. Some of them were still watching, waiting, and assessing how firmly their Alpha stood with me.

I kept my spine straight.

Xamira tugged my hand. “Can we go over there?” she asked, pointing to a stone path lined with blue flowers.

“Of course.” I smiled at her.

But as we walked… I couldn’t shake the thought of Lucy, who was not a simple nanny.

I had one burning question. Why would Draven choose a fighter to look after a child?

I exhaled slowly. I would have to ask him later.

—

[Draven].

I watched Meredith’s back as she walked away with the servant, her silver hair disappearing around the corner.

She didn’t press further about my mother, but the moment she asked… that familiar heaviness settled in my chest.

I wasn’t ready to open that wound this morning. Not when everything about her reaction mattered more than I was willing to admit.

And certainly not when something far more urgent had been dropped on me last night.

As soon as she vanished from sight, I exhaled sharply and turned in the opposite direction.

A warrior stood waiting at the end of the hall.

“Alpha,” he said with a deep bow. “Your brother is waiting.”

I nodded once. “Lead the way.”

We descended a quieter wing of the estate, one rarely used unless for sensitive matters. At the final turn, I saw Dennis standing outside a dim room, arms crossed, and expression grave.

“There you are,” he muttered, straightening.

Without wasting time, I pushed the door open and entered. The air inside was cold, with a faint scent of linen and antiseptic.

In the centre of the small chamber, a human-sized body lay on a table, covered by a white sheet—untouched, precisely as I ordered the moment the report came in yesterday evening.

I stepped closer and lifted the shroud.

Her face was pale. Her limbs were broken at unnatural angles.

It was a fall from height, the kind no human survives.

Dennis spoke quietly behind me. “I still can’t understand how she could fall from Xamira’s balcony. That railing isn’t low.”

“It isn’t,” I replied.

Back in Duskmoor, Xamira’s bedroom was also on the second floor, and her nanny had worked for us for years without a single accident.

She wasn’t reckless. She wasn’t clumsy.

I inspected the nanny’s arms and wrists. There were no scratch marks or bruises, or defensive wounds, or any skin caught under her nails.

Nothing to indicate she had grabbed the rail or fought for balance.

This was too clean. Too silent. Too wrong.

“Brother,” Dennis said, voice dropping, “do you think someone pushed her?”

“I think,” I answered slowly, “that an adult woman doesn’t simply topple over a balcony in broad daylight without making a sound or attempting to save herself.”

I covered the body again. “And until I speak to Xamira, I won’t assume anything.”

Dennis exhaled. “Are you going to tell Meredith?”

“Not yet.” The words came out sharper than I intended, so I forced myself to calm down.

“She just survived a war,” I continued. “She deserves peace. I think until I know exactly what happened, this stays between us.”

Dennis nodded reluctantly. “Has a new nanny been assigned to Xamira yet?”

I moved away from the table, my mind already shifting.

“Right after the incident, I instructed Madame Beatrice to assign a trained female warrior as the new nanny,” I told him.

Dennis’s eyebrows lifted. “A warrior?”

“Yes. Someone capable. Someone who won’t be easily overpowered or startled.”

He understood instantly. “You think this might happen again.”

“I think I’m not taking chances,” I said.

Silence fell between us. But a moment later, Dennis asked quietly, “When do you plan to question your daughter?”

“Tonight,” I said. Because there was one more truth I hadn’t voiced. I prayed she hadn’t witnessed it.

—

[Meredith].

Xamira skipped ahead a few steps, still holding my hand, humming cheerfully as the blue flowers brushed against her boots.

Watching her like this—light, unbothered, innocent—made the knot in my chest loosen.

At least she looked happy, and she didn’t sense anything troubling.

Xamira glanced up at me, smiling with all her tiny teeth on display. She didn’t need to see me overthinking.

“Do you like it here?” I asked softly.

She nodded so hard the loose strands of her hair bounced. “It’s big! And the flowers smell nice. My room is too quiet, but—” she squeezed my hand, “—I have you.”

That tugged softly at my heart.

We continued walking along the stone path, and she eagerly pointed out everything—birds, windows, a tall statue that looked centuries old.

It felt good to see her fascinated. Good to hear her voice unfiltered by fear or exhaustion.

When we reached a small open courtyard, Xamira suddenly stopped and blinked up at me.

“My Lady… can I ask something?”

“Yes.”

“Are we… going to stay here forever?”

I paused.

Her eyes were wide and hopeful, but uncertain. She was trying to understand whether this prominent, cold, unfamiliar place was her new home.

I knelt a little, smoothing her hair back.

“For now, yes,” I said gently. “This is home. You are safe here.”

She studied me for a moment, then quietly asked, “Will Daddy be with us every day?”

The question pierced me more deeply than I expected.

I smiled. “Yes. And he is not leaving us.”

Xamira threw her arms around my neck. I hugged her back, grounding myself in her warmth before we continued our walk further down the stone path.

Behind us, Lucy followed silently, her footsteps so light I barely heard them. Even without turning around, I could feel her presence: steady, alert, watchful—more guard than a nanny.

I pushed the thought aside when Xamira tugged me again, pointing at a cluster of carved stones. “My Lady, look! That one looks like a frog!”

I smiled and nodded, playing along. “A very serious frog.”

She giggled.

Just then, footsteps approached from the opposite direction—heavy enough that even Xamira paused.

I turned. A warrior stood before us, head lowered in respect.

“Luna,” he greeted, voice deep and formal. “Forgive the interruption. A message has arrived for you.”

He extended a white, sealed envelope with both hands.

My heartbeat skipped. ‘A hand-delivered letter in Stormveil, addressed to me?’

There was only one person who could do this—my grandmother.