CHAPTER 3: THE QUEEN OF DECEPTION

The kitchen was a humid hellscape of boiling vats and clattering iron. I hadn't slept. My throat still burned from Caleb’s grip in the hallway, the bruises beginning to bloom like dark violets against my skin. I was scrubbing a scorched pot when the double doors swung open with a violent bang.

It wasn't a servant. It was her.

She didn't look like the trembling, "frightened" girl from the coronation. She wore a gown of crimson silk, her blonde hair pinned back with diamonds that caught the flickering torchlight. Behind her, two high-ranking warriors stood like statues.

"The help is lagging," she said, her voice no longer high-pitched and sweet. It was a whip—sharp and cold. "Where is my tea?"

I didn't look up from the pot. "The tea service is at six. It’s barely five. Check your watch, if you know how to read one."

One of the warriors stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "You will address the Luna with respect, servant."

"Respect is earned," I snapped, finally standing up. I wiped my grime-covered hands on my apron, staring her down. "And last I checked, being a 'Fated Mate' doesn't automatically grant you an education or manners."

Chloe or Seraphina, as the whispers in the hall now called her—laughed. It was a rich, melodic sound that didn't match the predatory look in her eyes.

"Oh, Elara. You think this is about a bond? You think I’m just some stray he picked up because the Moon Goddess sang a song?" She walked toward me, her heels clicking on the stone. "Look at me. Really look at me."

"I see a girl playing dress-up in a crown that's too heavy for her," I said.

"I am Seraphina of the Obsidian Crest," she whispered, leaning over the table. The name hit me like a physical blow. The Obsidian Crest wasn't a pack; it was a political syndicate that controlled the silver trade in the North. "My father owns the steel your warriors use. My brothers command the mercenaries that sit on your borders. Caleb didn't find a mate; he found an empire."

"He told me you were his destiny," I said, my heart sinking.

"He told you what you needed to hear so you wouldn't claw his eyes out in public," Seraphina mocked. "Caleb is ambitious. He’s tired of being the Alpha of a mid-tier pack. With me, he becomes a King. With you? He’s just a man with a 'breeder' who knows how to do taxes."

"Elara!"

The voice barked from the doorway. Caleb stood there, his face a mask of granite. He didn't look at the bruises on my neck. He didn't look at my tattered dress. He looked through me, as if I were a ghost haunting his new life.

"Why is Luna’s breakfast not in the solar?" he demanded.

"Ask your 'Empire,'" I gestured to Seraphina. "She’s too busy explaining how she bought your loyalty to actually eat."

Caleb finally turned his gaze toward me, but there was no spark, no recognition. Just a chilling, distant vacuum.

"Seraphina is your superior," Caleb said, his voice flat. "If she wants to speak, you listen. If she wants to insult you, you thank her for the attention."

"Caleb, look at me!" I stepped toward him, but the warriors moved to block my path. "You’re talking about a political merger like it’s a soul-bond. You’re lying to the pack! You’re lying to yourself!"

"I am doing what is necessary for the Silver-Moon," he said, still refusing to meet my eyes directly. He focused on a point just above my head. "The pack was stagnant. You were a reminder of our poverty, Elara. A girl rescued from a cage. Seraphina is a reminder of our future."

Seraphina smirked, reaching out to stroke Caleb’s arm. "See, darling? She’s delusional. She actually thought a wolf like you could be satisfied with a 'defective' little thing like her forever."

She turned back to me, her smile widening. "Now, be a good little breeder and fetch my tray. And make sure the fruit is chilled. If it’s room temperature, I’ll have Caleb whip the skin off your back myself."

CRACK.

I didn't think. I didn't plan. My hand moved on its own. The slap was so hard it sent her diamond earring flying across the kitchen floor. Seraphina’s head snapped to the side, her cheek blooming a bright, angry red.

The silence that followed was deafening. The fire in the hearth hissed.

"You... you touched me," Seraphina whispered, her hand trembling as she touched her face. "Caleb! She struck me!"

Caleb’s aura exploded. The pressure in the room became unbearable, the pots and pans rattling on their hooks. He moved with a blur of speed, grabbing my wrist and twisting it behind my back until I gasped in pain.

"You dare?" Caleb hissed, his voice a low growl.

"She insulted me, Caleb! She threatened me!" I screamed.

"She is the Luna!" Caleb roared, shoving me toward the floor. I crashed into the table, the corner catching my ribs. "You are a servant. If you raise a hand to her again, I will personally cut it off."

I looked up at him from the floor, tears of rage and betrayal blurring my vision. "Look at me, Caleb. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me. Tell me you want me to be her slave."

He stood over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. He took a deep breath, his eyes flicking down to mine for a split second—a flash of agony crossed his face before it was buried under a wall of ice.

"I don't love you," he said, the words falling like lead. "I never did. You were a project. A rescue. I’m finished with you."

"Liar," I whispered.

"Get the tray," he commanded. "And when you’re done, report to the Alpha’s study. Seraphina has a list of 'chores' for you that involve the silver mines."

"The mines?" I gasped. "I'm not a shifter, Caleb! The silver dust will kill me in a week!"

"Then I suggest you work fast," Seraphina chirped, regaining her composure, though her cheek was still swollen. She leaned into Caleb’s side. "It’s a pity, really. Such a pretty face to be wasted in the dark."

Caleb turned to leave, ushering Seraphina out. But as he reached the door, he paused. He didn't turn around.

"The mines aren't just for silver, Elara," he said, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

"Then what are they for?" I demanded, pushing myself up from the floor.

He stayed silent for a moment, his shoulders tensed. Seraphina whispered something to him, a sharp, commanding word in a language I didn't recognize.

"They are for the harvest," Caleb finally said.

"What harvest? Caleb, what is she doing to you?"

Seraphina looked back over her shoulder, her eyes flashing that eerie violet light again. "She isn't doing anything to me, Elara. We are doing something for the world. And you... You’re the key to the first gate."

She tossed a small, black coin onto the floor. It rolled toward me, stopping at my feet. It wasn't packed with currency. It was engraved with a skull wrapped in thorns—the mark of the Forbidden Cult of the Moon-Eaters.

"The blood of a breeder isn't just for pups," Seraphina laughed, her voice echoing in the hall. "It's the perfect vessel for a curse. See you at the bottom of the pit, Elara. Don't die too quickly. We need you conscious for the ritual."

The doors slammed shut, locking from the outside. I was alone in the kitchen, the black coin shimmering with a dark, pulsating energy that began to drain the light from the room.

I looked at the coin, then at my own hands. My veins were starting to glow a faint, sickly purple.

"Caleb..." I whispered, but the only answer was the sound of the locks clicking into place.

I wasn't just a servant. I wasn't just a rejected mate. I was a sacrifice in progress.