Free Web NovelChapter 130: Chapter 130
The morning after that bombshell announcement, I woke up feeling wrong.
Not scared-about-the-Council wrong. Physically wrong.
My stomach turned the second I sat up. I gripped the bedsheets, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.
I turned to Christian’s face inches from mine, his green eyes already alert and focused on something beyond our bedroom. Typical Alpha behavior—always scanning for threats even in sleep. I started to smile at him, but then my stomach decided to do a gymnastics routine that would’ve scored a perfect ten.
"Oh no." I pressed a hand to my mouth and sat up too fast. The room tilted sideways like I was on some horrible carnival ride.
"Sophie?" Christian’s hand was on my back immediately, steady and warm. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing, I just—" Another wave of nausea rolled through me, and I grabbed the bedsheets like they could anchor me to reality. "I think I ate too much pie last night."
Christian’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe me. I could tell by the way his jaw tightened, that little muscle jumping near his ear. "Are you sure that’s all it is?"
"Yeah, totally." I forced a smile and waited for the room to stop spinning. "I’m fine. What are you reading?"
He glanced at the documents scattered across his lap—Council meeting stuff, probably. More boring politics that I really didn’t want to think about while my stomach was attempting murder. "Just prepare for next week. Nothing that can’t wait." His hand moved to my forehead. "You feel warm."
"I’m fine," I repeated, pushing his hand away gently. "Stop Alpha-ing me before breakfast."
That got a small smile out of him, at least.
By the time we made it to the dining hall, I’d convinced myself I was being dramatic. So what if I felt a little off? I’d survived Alexander Sterling’s silver claws. I could handle some indigestion.
Diana and Marcus were already at our usual table, deep in conversation about Council strategies. I slid into my seat and tried to focus on what they were saying—something about voting procedures and delegate counts—but my brain felt fuzzy around the edges.
"Morning," Diana said, giving me one of those penetrating looks she was so good at. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I’m great." I was really getting tired of saying that. "Just tired from all the holiday prep."
Elder Margaret appeared with a tray of breakfast, and the smell hit me like a physical attack. Bacon. Eggs. That weird sausage thing Marcus loved. My stomach, which had been merely threatening rebellion before, staged a full coup.
I watched the plate land in front of Christian, watched the steam rise from the eggs, and felt all the saliva drain from my mouth in the worst possible way.
"Excuse me." I stood up so fast my chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Bathroom. Be right back."
I didn’t wait for responses. I just moved, practically running down the hallway to the nearest bathroom. The cold water I splashed on my face helped, but not enough. I stared at myself in the mirror—definitely pale, definitely not looking like a proper Luna—and tried to get my act together.
When I made it back to the table, Christian had pushed his plate away and was watching the doorway like he’d been ready to come after me. Diana’s expression had shifted from concern to something more calculating, more healer-ish.
"I just needed some air," I said, sitting down carefully. "I’m good now."
"Sophie—" Christian started.
"I’m fine." I smiled at him, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. "Promise. Can we talk about something apart from my stomach? What were you saying about the delegate votes, Marcus?"
Marcus launched into an explanation about voting blocs and council procedures. I tried to pay attention. I really did. But my eyelids felt like they weighed about fifty pounds each, and keeping them open required all my concentration.
The late morning meeting with the sanctuary refugees should’ve been easy. These were people I cared about, talking about their kids and how well everyone was adjusting. Emma was in the middle of explaining something about the children’s schooling when my head started to nod forward.
I jerked awake, mortified. Christian’s hand landed on my knee under the table, squeezing gently.
It happened again five minutes later. One second I was listening to Emma, and the next my brain was just... gone. Like someone had flipped an off switch.
"Sophie needs to rest," Christian announced, standing up. "We can continue this tomorrow."
"No, I’m—" I started to protest, but the yawn that interrupted me killed my argument. "Okay, maybe I’m a little tired."
Christian practically herded me out of the room, his hand on the small of my back. The moment we were alone in the hallway, he turned to face me, both hands on my shoulders.
"You’re not fine." His voice was gentle but firm. "Don’t argue with me. Something’s wrong."
"It’s just stress." I leaned against the wall, suddenly too exhausted to stand properly. "The Council meeting next week, worrying about what Alexander might try to pull, all the holiday stuff—"
"Sophie." Christian touched my forehead again, then my cheeks. "You don’t have a fever, but you’re clearly not well. Will you please see Diana? For me?"
The worry in his eyes made my chest tight. "I really think it’s just stress."
"Humor me." freewebnøvel.com
I sighed. "Fine. But when Diana tells you, I just need more sleep, you have to promise not to hover."
"I make no such promise." He kissed my forehead. "Go rest. I’ll check on you in an hour."
I made it to the Luna office, thinking I’d get some work done before my mandatory rest period. Supply requests were piling up, and I had correspondence from three different packs to review. But the moment I sat down at my desk, the lavender candles Diana had placed around the room last week made me want to throw up.
