LOGINSix months became eight. Then eight became ten. And somewhere along the way, Emma stopped counting the days she had served Crown Prince Ethan Grayson.
She began counting moments and memories instead. The mornings when she entered his chambers and found him asleep over military reports.
The afternoons when he deliberately delayed meetings just to finish whatever argument they had started over breakfast.
The evenings when everyone else had gone, and they remained beside the fireplace, talking about everything except the feelings growing between them.
Prince and servant. Future Alpha King and mere servant. Those differences still existed.
But when Emma was alone with Ethan… Sometimes she forgot. "You're staring." Emma blinked.
Ethan stood before the mirror while she fastened the silver clasp of his ceremonial cloak. "I wasn't." "You were."
"I was checking the clasp." "For thirty seconds?" Emma rolled her eyes. "Would Your Highness prefer to dress himself?"
"No." "Then stop complaining." A grin spread across his face. "There she is." Emma frowned.
"Who?" "The woman who used to tremble whenever I entered the room." "I never trembled."
"You nearly dropped my breakfast the first week you became my personal servant." "You walked into me!"
"You blamed the Crown Prince?" "You were standing in the doorway." Ethan laughed.
Emma tried not to smile, but she failed. It had become dangerously difficult not to smile around Prince Ethan.
She finished fastening his cloak and stepped backward. "There." Ethan looked at himself.
"Perfect?" "The cloak is." He turned. "And me?" Emma stared at him. Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Well?" "Acceptable." "Acceptable?" "For a prince." He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "You wound me." Emma laughed.
And for several seconds, neither of them remembered their positions. Then someone knocked.
Emma immediately stepped away. The smile vanished from her face.
"Come in." A servant walked inside carrying a silver envelope. "Your Highness." She bowed.
"The Ashford family has sent another invitation." Ethan sighed. "Again?" "Lady Celeste requests your presence at dinner."
Emma's fingers tightened around the edge of the table. She hated that reaction. Celeste Ashford was beautiful.
Powerful and Bold, Daughter of Lord Victor Ashford. And according to half the palace...
The perfect future Luna. Ethan handed the invitation back without opening it. "Decline."
The servant hesitated. "Your Highness, this is the fourth…" "I know." "Yes, Your Highness."
She bowed and left. Emma busied herself rearranging documents that didn't need rearranging.
"You should go." Ethan looked at her. "Where?" "Dinner." "No." "Lady Celeste's family is powerful."
"So?" "She's also beautiful." Ethan's mouth twitched. "Is she?" Emma looked at him. "You have eyes."
"I hadn't noticed." "Liar." He smiled. "Are you jealous?" Emma nearly dropped the papers.
"What?" Ethan laughed. "I'm your servant." "That's not an answer." "I don't care who you have dinner with."
"Another lie." Emma glared at him. Ethan leaned against the desk. "You're terrible at lying."
"And you're annoying. "Yet you haven't requested reassignment." Emma turned away.
Because she couldn't tell him the truth. That the thought of leaving him frightened her more than it should.
That hearing noblewomen talk about marrying him made something ugly twist inside her chest.
That somewhere during these months… She had fallen in love with a man she could never have, not even in her dreams or imagination.
"Emma." His voice had changed. She continued arranging the papers. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"Look at me." She did. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what, Your Highness?"
"Reminding me you're my servant." Her throat tightened. "Because that is who I am to you."
"Is that all you think you are to me?" The question caught her completely off guard.
"Ethan..." "Answer me." She looked toward the door. Closed. Still, she lowered her voice.
"You shouldn't ask me questions like that." "Why?" "Because you're the Crown Prince."
"And you're Emma." "I'm a servant, a mere maid." "I know your occupation." His voice softened.
"I'm asking who you are to me." Emma's heart hammered. She stepped backward.
"We shouldn't have this conversation." Ethan followed. "Why?" "Because it doesn't end well."
"You don't know that." "I've been rejected twice." The words stopped him. Emma laughed bitterly.
"You know what people say about me." "I know what idiots say about you."
"My wolf is weak." "So?" "So?" She stared at him. "You're going to be Alpha King."
"You need a powerful Luna." "According to whom?" "Everyone!" “That is the tradition”
Her voice rose before she caught herself. She lowered it again. "You could marry a princess."
"A daughter from one of the strongest Alpha families." "Someone like Celeste."
Ethan stared into her eyes. "And what if I don't want Celeste?" Emma stopped.
He approached. "What if I don't want a noble lady?" "Ethan..." "What if the woman I want is standing right in front of me?"
Her breath disappeared. "No." It was barely a whisper. Ethan stepped closer. Emma retreated until her back touched the edge of the table.
"Don't." "Tell me you don't feel anything." She couldn't. "Tell me." Emma looked away.
"Ethan, please." His voice softened. "I love you." Emma's eyes snapped back to his.
Everything inside her went still. He said it again. "I love you, Emma." She shook her head.
"You can't." "I already do." "You don't understand what you're saying." "I've had almost a year to understand."
Tears burned behind her eyes. "What happens when the Council finds out?"
"I deal with them." "The nobles?" "Let them talk." "Your father?" Something flickered across Ethan's expression.
Even Ethan didn't speak casually about Jasper. But his answer remained firm.
"I'll face him." Emma stared at him. "And when you need a Luna?" Ethan went silent. Her heart sank.
Emma forced a smile. "Exactly." She moved to step around him. Ethan caught her hand.
"When I need a Luna..." She stopped. "...I'll already know who I want." Emma slowly turned.
Ethan took her hand between his. "You." Her lips parted. "No." "Yes, I will choose you."
"My wolf is..." "I don't care." "I'm not strong enough to be your luna."
"I've watched you survive things that would destroy half the noblewomen in this palace."
"I'm not from a powerful family anymore." "I'm not marrying your family." "Ethan..."
He stepped closer. "When the Moon Ceremony comes, I will stand before the kingdom."
Emma's eyes filled with tears. "And I will choose you. She shook her head.
"Don't promise me something you can't give me." "I can; you just have to trust me."
"You don't know that." "Then listen carefully." He raised her hand. "I don't care whether your wolf becomes the strongest in Valenmoor......or never fully awakens."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "I don't care that two men rejected you." Another tear followed.
"And I don't care what anyone thinks about the woman I choose." His thumb gently wiped her tears away.
"Because I'm not choosing your wolf." "I'm choosing you." Emma broke. After years of hearing that she wasn't enough...
Too weak. Too large. Too cursed. Someone was choosing her. Ethan leaned his forehead against hers.
"Emma Rowan…."When the Moon Ceremony comes..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You will be my Luna."
Emma closed her eyes. For the first time since her second rejection… She allowed herself to believe in a future and fall in love.
She didn't know that outside his chamber, someone had stopped walking.
Lord Victor Ashford stared at the closed doors. He had heard enough. His expression hardened.
If Ethan Grayson chose Emma Rowan… Everything Victor had spent years building would collapse.
He turned toward the guard beside him. "Find High Priest Lucien." The guard bowed.
"Immediately, my lord." Victor looked once more at Ethan's door. "Tell him..."
His voice became cold. "...the Blood Moon girl has become a problem."
"It was never in the archive," Odalys said.They were sitting in the cold back room of her sister's cottage at the edge of the lower city, a candle between them, the crypt dust still on both their sleeves. She'd made him tea he hadn't touched. Ethan had stopped trying to be gracious about it an hour ago."The membership book and the money book were records," she went on. "Things you keep so you can prove them later. The third one was different. It held orders. Who was to do what, who carried it out, when. Nobody keeps that where a clerk might find it." She turned her cup in her fingers. "It went with the office.""Which office?""The High Priest's."Ethan set down the torn receipt he'd been turning over. "Lucien.""Lucien now. Before him, three others, all the way back. The Order never needed a priest as a member, only as a keeper. Someone nobody questions, who sleeps above a locked room, who can say a door is sealed for prayer." She looked at him. "He's been missing a fortnight. His
"It was never in the archive," Odalys said.They were sitting in the cold back room of her sister's cottage at the edge of the lower city, a candle between them, the crypt dust still on both their sleeves. She'd made him tea he hadn't touched. Ethan had stopped trying to be gracious about it an hour ago."The membership book and the money book were records," she went on. "Things you keep so you can prove them later. The third one was different. It held orders. Who was to do what, who carried it out, when. Nobody keeps that where a clerk might find it." She turned her cup in her fingers. "It went with the office.""Which office?""The High Priest's."Ethan set down the torn receipt he'd been turning over. "Lucien.""Lucien now. Before him, three others, all the way back. The Order never needed a priest as a member, only as a keeper. Someone nobody questions, who sleeps above a locked room, who can say a door is sealed for prayer." She looked at him. "He's been missing a fortnight. His
Emma chose the walled garden behind the chapel because it had one door, four sightlines, and a bench that faced the gate. Marcus chose the rest: two men in the gardener's shed, one on the roof of the vestry, a fourth walking a slow circuit of the outer path with a pruning knife in his belt and a very bad impression of a man who cared about hedges.Celeste arrived alone, on time, in a plain gray dress without any of the ribbons she usually wore. She had been crying. She'd tried to hide it, and powder hadn't done the job."Thank you for coming," she said, and stopped a few paces short of the bench as though she needed permission to come closer."Sit," Emma said.Celeste sat. She folded her hands, unfolded them, and folded them again."Naya told you," she said. "About the corridor."It wasn't a question, and Emma saw no reason to pretend. "She told me this morning.""I thought she might. I thought, if she was clever, she'd work out what it meant." Celeste drew a breath that shook on the
Marcus told her in the morning, as promised, standing at the window of her sitting room with the light behind him so she couldn't read his face."The rider left his horse in a stable behind the Gilded Heron, a tavern in the lower city. He went in through the kitchen. He was inside less than a quarter hour. When he came out, a boy ran from the back door toward the north gate with a sealed packet.""A courier.""My men lost him at the gate. He had a pass." Marcus turned. "The packet went north, Emma. Toward the war."She sat down. "Toward Jasper.""Toward someone near him, or someone who'll sell it near him. I can't say more." He let a moment pass. "I can say this much. The rider only moved on the road you gave Naya. Not Orsen's. Not Margaret's. That doesn't make her the source. It makes her the first link I can reach."Emma looked at her hands. They were steady, which surprised her."Send her in," she said. "And Marcus. Leave us."Naya came in with her sleeves still rolled from morning
Jasper's message came in Marcus's hand, not his own, and that was how Emma knew it had been dictated fast.The enemy has a second force in the field. Their envoy ended his message with a wish for the Queen's long life. He was not guessing. Someone has told them what you are to me. Double your guard. Do not leave the palace. Do not go to the safehouse. Do not argue with this.She read it standing in the middle of her sitting room, and then she sat down on the floor, because her knees had decided for her.What you are to me. He hadn't written it for her to find tender. It was a warning, an order, a man's fear compressed into the fewest possible words. And still she read that line four times."He's right to be afraid," Marcus said from the doorway. "I'd say worse, if I were him.""Then say it.""Someone close enough to see the two of you together has told your enemy that you matter. Not that you're Queen. Everyone knows that. That you matter to him." He closed the door behind him. "That
The physician caught him at the tent flap with one arm already through his coat."You will tear the stitches.""Then you'll sew them again." Jasper pushed past him. "Walk with me or stay here, Doctor. I don't have the breath to argue both."The eastern ridge was a quarter mile from camp, and by the time he reached it his side had gone from an ache to something with teeth. He didn't slow. Aldous fell in beside him, saying nothing, which was how Jasper knew exactly how bad Aldous thought this was.Below them, strung along the valley floor in the last gray light, were Ragnar's fires. Hundreds of them. More than yesterday.And at the edge of the far treeline, apart from the rest, a second camp. Smaller. Too orderly. The tents sat in straight rows, the horse lines were picketed in neat squares, and over the center one hung a banner that moved slowly in the evening wind.Black. Plain black. No beast, no crest, no sigil of any kind."I've seen a hundred banners," Aldous said at last. "I've n







