The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 672: Moving Pieces

Randall escorted Rosalie directly into a receiving chamber.

The door shut behind them, plunging the space into silence. Rosalie remained composed and steady, while Randall held his distance, his face grim and inscrutable.

Moments later, the door swung open again, admitting Draven. Randall and Rosalie both offered bows.

"Your Majesty."

Draven responded with a faint nod, his eyes flicking first to his father before halting briefly on the mending slash across Randall’s cheek.

He advanced a step, face impassive. "What happened to your face?" he inquired.

Randall’s jaw clenched a bit. The query obviously disturbed him, despite his efforts to conceal it.

"It’s nothing," he replied curtly. "You need not concern yourself with it."

Draven met his stare momentarily, then nodded as though satisfied. "Very well."

He dropped the subject without pursuit. Instead, he shifted focus. "What about her belongings?" he questioned.

Randall’s brow furrowed lightly. "What about them?"

Draven emitted a soft chuckle, devoid of any mirth in his eyes. "Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough when I asked you to escort my mother into the palace."

Randall’s features altered. "You mean..." he started deliberately, "you want her to move here?"

A subtle curve touched Rosalie’s lips, evidently relishing the development.

Draven’s amusement vanished as his look grew solemn. "From this moment onward, my mother will reside in the palace," he declared, tone steady yet resolute.

After a short lull, he continued, "You will send all her belongings here."

Randall’s visage darkened. "That is unnecessary—"

"Who is Dennis’ biological mother?"

The abrupt query sliced through the tension like a blade.

Randall stiffened. He stared at Draven for an instant, evidently caught off guard by the pivot. Before he could reply, Rosalie interjected.

"I told you, he knows everything. Don’t try to lie," she stated evenly.

Randall’s eyes darted to her momentarily, then returned to Draven. The quiet lingered, with Draven refusing to avert his gaze.

"Answer me," he urged.

Randall breathed out deliberately, his face growing taut under the strain. "...She died, after giving birth to him," he admitted at last.

Draven’s stare intensified subtly. "I don’t believe that."

Randall’s tone sharpened, laced with tension now. "You don’t have to. That is the truth."

The atmosphere thickened between them.

Draven observed him a beat longer, then his demeanor chilled.

"Now that you have completed the task I gave you, you may return to your estate," he stated.

Simultaneously, he signaled to his side, prompting a servant to approach promptly.

"Escort her to her chambers."

The servant inclined his head and moved toward Rosalie. As she pivoted to depart, she halted briefly to shoot Randall a look—piercing, triumphant.

"If you are still alive when I recover, I will repay you for keeping me alive all these years," she remarked serenely.

With that, she departed alongside the servant.

Randall tracked her exit, fury simmering darkly on his features. Abruptly, Draven’s voice pierced the hush.

"What are you waiting for?"

Randall offered no reply. He spun on his heel and strode out wordlessly—sans bow.

Upon reaching the Oatrun Estate, the turmoil within him had intensified. It transcended mere wrath; it delved into profound disquiet.

His strides grew forceful, gestures abrupt, the aura surrounding him thick with bottled wrath.

Draven maneuvered the board pieces clearly. Yet what troubled Randall deepest was his inability to grasp the complete strategy.

---

Shortly after Randall’s departure from the palace, Draven headed to Meredith’s quarters.

He discovered her as anticipated—reclining softly on pillows, one palm resting on her swelling abdomen while examining a tray of herbs nearby.

Upon his arrival, her focus snapped to him entirely. "You are back," she noted.

He approached swiftly. "She is here."

Meredith’s face brightened at once, serenity yielding to delight. "Already?"

He affirmed with a nod.

"I want to see her," she declared promptly, rising to her feet.

Draven arrived at her side first, clasping her hand to assist her effortlessly. "Then come."

He indulged her without pause. They exited the room together.

—

Entering Rosalie’s assigned quarters, they found her seated, freshly arranged. Her bearing stayed elegant, though faint weariness lingered.

Her eyes rose instantly upon their entrance, settling on Meredith. Gradually, they descended to the evident swell of her belly.

"How far along are you?" Rosalie queried right away.

Meredith offered a gentle smile, grasping the intent. "A few months still," she answered. "I’m carrying twins."

Rosalie’s eyebrows arched faintly. "Twins?"

"Mmm." Meredith confirmed with a nod.

For a fleeting instant, Rosalie regarded her, then a true, modest smile emerged. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Meredith responded tenderly. "I’m happy to see you... like this."

Rosalie’s attention turned to Draven, her look shifting nuancedly. "It’s all thanks to him," she noted. "I haven’t even had the chance to say it properly."

She stood promptly and advanced to Draven. "Thank you for saving me from your father and getting me out of there," she expressed earnestly.

Draven dipped his head faintly. "There is no need for thanks between us."

Meredith observed silently. Rosalie appeared transformed, authentic.

This marked Meredith’s initial glimpse of her stripped of facades—the insanity, bewilderment, the masterful pretense she’d upheld.

This iteration felt genuine, oddly invigorating.

Meredith ventured after a pause. "My grandmother is here as well."

Rosalie whipped back, startled.

"She will be happy to see you. I will introduce you to her during lunch," Meredith continued.

"I would like that." Rosalie agreed with a nod. A thought struck her, prompting, "And... thank you for what you did back then."

Meredith dismissed it with a light shake. "I didn’t do anything."

Rosalie appraised her briefly, then nodded and released it.

Draven interceded. "The servants will bring what you need for now. The rest will be sent later."

Rosalie’s look toughened marginally. "I don’t want anything from him."

Draven refrained from debate, merely nodding. "As you wish."

With nothing left to say, he took Meredith’s hand anew and instructed his mother, "Rest."

Then he guided Meredith away.

—

In the corridor, Meredith eyed him. "When do you plan to deal with your father?"

Draven replied without pause. "After the twins are born."

She arched a brow, compelling elaboration. "I won’t bring any ill omen near them," he clarified evenly.

Meredith chuckled softly but acquiesced. She comprehended his reasoning.

—

At lunchtime later, Rosalie joined them. Meredith’s grandmother occupied her seat already.

As Rosalie neared, the elder’s aura seized her notice instantly. Her eyes gleamed white and sightless, yet she radiated keen awareness.

Rosalie’s pace faltered subtly. "...She is blind?" she murmured.

"Physically," Meredith replied casually.

Draven then advanced for introductions. "Mother, this is my mate’s grandmother."

The women exchanged salutations. Turning mildly, Draven informed the elder, "She will be staying in the palace with us."

Meredith’s grandmother smiled subtly. "You did well," she affirmed.

Her endorsement flowed unreserved. Draven nodded faintly, and the exchange resolved smoothly.

Everyone settled into seats, grasped utensils, and commenced dining.