Morning light cuts through the chamber windows. I dress in the formal Luna gown—silver threading woven through white silk, high collar that presses against my throat, the pack crest embroidered over my heart in precise stitching. The fabric weighs heavy. Suffocating.
Rhys adjusts his armor in the mirror, then crosses to me and kisses my forehead.
"Rest after last night," he says. "You look exhausted."
I nod. Force a smile. "I will."
"Council meetings all afternoon. The elders want to discuss security after yesterday's incident." His jaw tightens. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Of course."
He studies my face for a moment. Then releases me and leaves.
The smile drops the instant I'm alone. My wolf erupts inside me. I lurch to the washbasin, splashing cold water on my face. My reflection stares back—pale skin, dark circles under my eyes, a stranger wearing a Luna's gown. I grip the stone basin until my knuckles whiten.
I have duties today. Luna duties. Responsibilities. His golden eyes won’t hinder.
I move through the pack house like a ghost. The head cook bows deeply when I enter the kitchens. She rattles off meal plans for the week. I approve everything with mechanical nods.
Training schedules next. The weapons master, a scarred veteran named Ronan, spreads parchment across a wooden table in the armory. I sign where he indicates, my hand moving automatically.
Pack members stop me in hallways as I pass. They bow low, some dropping to one knee, calling me Luna with reverence that makes my skin crawl.
"Congratulations, Luna Ardena. You looked radiant at the ceremony."
"Such a beautiful union. The Goddess has blessed Ironvale."
"We're honored to serve under your leadership."
I smile at each one. Thank them. Say all the right things my training taught me. Inside, I'm screaming.
A young girl approaches shyly near the courtyard entrance, clutching wildflowers in both fists. She can't be more than seven years old. Her cheeks flush pink when I turn toward her, and she ducks her head.
"Luna," she whispers.
I crouch to her level, smoothing my gown around my knees. "Hello, sweetheart. What's your name?"
"Mira, Luna."
"Those are beautiful flowers, Mira."
She thrusts them forward eagerly. "For you. For your wedding. Mama said I should bring them to honor the new Luna."
I accept them carefully. Lavender and wild yarrow, the kind that grows in the meadow beyond the northern walls. "Thank you. They're absolutely perfect."
Her face lights up. "Does being Luna feel different? Can you feel the pack bond now? My mama says it's like being connected to everyone at once."
I swallow hard. Force warmth into my voice. "Yes. It's beautiful. Everything I hoped for."
She bounces on her toes. "I want to be Luna someday too. When I grow up and find my mate."
"Then train hard and be kind." I touch her shoulder gently. "Those are the qualities of a true Luna."
She nods seriously, absorbing the advice like gospel. Then she sprints away, her braids flying behind her like ribbons.
I stand slowly, staring at the flowers in my hands. My fingers shake. I'm replaying yesterday on an endless loop—the explosion of smoke pouring through the doorway, the intruder's fluid violence as he disabled two trained guards in seconds, the way he moved like death itself. Then he looked at me. And my entire world tilted sideways.
By late afternoon, I find Sera in the main hall. She's arranging ceremonial flowers around the high table, humming softly as she weaves white roses through an iron trellis. We've been friends since childhood, shared every secret, every fear, every dream.
"Sera."
She turns, her face breaking into a warm smile. "There's the Luna. I was wondering when you'd escape your duties long enough to visit me."
"Can we talk? Privately?"
Her smile falters. "Of course."
We slip into a private alcove off the main corridor, away from servants and guards. Stone walls muffle sound here. Sera sets down her basket of flowers, studying my face with worried eyes.
"What's wrong, Ardena?"
"Yesterday," I say, choosing my words carefully. "The man who attacked the ceremony. Do you know anything about who he was?"
"Ardena—"
"Where he came from? What he wanted? Why he would risk his life to interrupt a Luna ceremony?"
She glances toward the hallway entrance, then back at me. Her voice drops. "I've heard rumors."
"What kind of rumors?"
"Old tribal conflicts." She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller. "But I don't know the details. My mother always told me not to ask about the past. She said some doors are better left closed."
I step closer. "Why not?"
"It's respect for the dead." Her voice drops to barely a whisper. "The elders don't like questions about the old wars. Too much pain. Too many losses. Some packs were destroyed entirely, Ardena. Wiped from existence. Their bloodlines ended."
"Destroyed how? By whom?"
"Ardena." She reaches for my hand, gripping it tight. "It's better to focus on the future. On unity and peace. You just got married. You're Luna now. You have responsibilities, a position of honor. Digging into dark history will only bring trouble. It won't change what happened."
"I need to understand what happened yesterday."
"Why does this matter so much?" She squeezes my hand. "He's captured. The guards have him locked away. Rhys will handle it."
"Don't you ever wonder about the truth? About those old stories the elders won't discuss?"
She's quiet for a long moment, considering. "I used to. When we were younger, remember? We'd sneak into the library and try to find the forbidden records. But I learned it's safer not to wonder."
"Safer for whom?"
"For everyone. For you." Her voice cracks slightly. "The past can't be changed, Ardena. Why torture yourself over it? You can't bring back the dead or undo old sins. Let it go. Be happy. You have everything now—a mate who loves you, the Luna title, respect, security."
Everything. The word tastes like dirt in my mouth.
Sera pulls me into a tight hug. "Congratulations again. I'm so happy for you."
She walks away, her footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. I stand alone in the alcove, the wildflowers still clutched in one hand.
Everyone keeps telling me to forget. Move forward. Focus on duty and responsibility.
But my wolf won't stop snarling.