The drums thundered through the grand hall, rattling in my chest like a second heartbeat. My gown felt heavier than armor, every embroidered thread pulling at my shoulders, every jewel gleaming too brightly beneath the firelit torches. I could feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on me, nobles, warriors, rival Alphas, allies, and enemies alike. All waiting. All judging.My knees wanted to buckle, but I forced them steady.Conan’s hand brushed mine, just a brief touch, but the heat of it seared more than any flame. His eyes locked onto mine...unwavering, proud, protective. That silent promise he always carried: You’re not alone.Still, the air was thick enough to choke on. Every step toward the altar was a trial, the silk banners overhead whispering like the voices of those who doubted me.From the crowd, Jayden’s small, clear voice rang out above the murmur:“That’s my Mama!”Heads turned. Some frowned, others smiled faintly, but
The mirror caught me staring, and for a moment, I didn’t even recognize the woman looking back. The gold-threaded gown shimmered under the candlelight, the jewels heavy around my neck, but none of it felt like mine. I wasn’t thinking of the engagement banquet waiting to be announced tomorrow. No...I was thinking of her. Samira. That laugh. That sharp, mocking laugh that still curled through my head when the world grew quiet. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if pressing hard enough would erase the sound, but it lingered like smoke that refused to clear. And Jonathan, his name felt like a bruise I didn’t want to touch. Both of them were ghosts I couldn’t quite bury, shadows clawing at the edges of what should have been my happiest night. “Lost in the past again?” Conan’s voice was deep, calm, the kind of sound that could anchor a storm. I hadn’t even heard him come in. His reflection joined mine in the mirror, taller, s
The palace had never been this loud.Every hallway hummed with activity, voices clashing in arguments that seemed to rise with every passing hour. The seamstress scurried after me with a mouth full of pins, waving swatches of fabric like weapons, while the head cook stormed through the corridors demanding extra staff for a menu he swore would collapse without reinforcements. Beyond them, the council argued over the guest list as though my wedding were a battlefield and every invitation a sword.I stood at the center of it all, drowning in lace and politics.“Lady Maya,” the seamstress pleaded, tugging at the hem of a gown I had been forced into. “If we do not add the embroidery to the sleeves, it will look unfinished. The Luna must be radiant, unforgettable.”“She is radiant enough,” Conan’s voice cut through the chamber like a blade. He stood with his arms crossed, glaring at the council members who had dared to linger.“Still...” the seamstress tried again.“No.” His tone brooked no
I had thought the proposal would silence them. Foolish of me.The moment Conan slipped that ring onto my finger, I felt the world change. I thought the tide had turned in our favor. But in the halls of the council, the whispers slithered through the stone walls faster than wildfire. They clung to me like smoke, thick and suffocating, even when no one spoke directly to my face.“She’s not even of noble blood,” one councilwoman hissed as I passed, her jeweled fingers covering her mouth as though her venom needed hiding.Another man, older, his robes heavy with the arrogance of his station, snorted. “Do you blame her? Marrying him is the only way she can scrub the stain of her scandal. She clings to him like a lifeline.”And then, the one that nearly snapped my composure in two,“She’ll be his third Luna. Third! It won’t be hard for him to find a fourth and a fifth once he tires of her.”I froze in the corridor, my back to them, my fists curled so tightly my nails dug crescent moons into
Conan in all of his mysteries took me to the cliff and I absolutely loved the scenery.The wind tugged at my hair as I stood at the edge of the cliff, the last rays of sunlight setting the world ablaze in molten gold. The ocean below roared against the rocks, steady and endless, a sound that usually calmed me. Tonight, though, there was something strange in the way Conan held my hand, too steady, too careful, as though he was holding more than just my fingers.“Conan,” I murmured, glancing up at him. “Why do I feel like you’ve been hiding something from me all day?”He smirked, but it wasn’t his usual sharp grin. It was softer, almost nervous, though Conan was not a man who knew the meaning of nerves. His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “For once, Maya, maybe you should let me have my secrets.”“That sounds dangerous,” I teased, narrowing my eyes at him. “You with secrets usually means chaos for me.”He chuckled, that deep rumble that always made my chest feel warmer, safer. But the
“Put that book down, Henry!” the tutor snapped, her voice tight as she snatched at the corner of the parchment.But Henry didn’t listen. He tore the page in half, his small hands surprisingly strong in their fury. The sound of parchment ripping echoed sharp through the chamber, followed by his voice, high and shaking with rage.“I don’t care about stupid rules of kings!” he shouted, his cheeks red, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.I burst into the study at that moment, my heart thundering in my chest at the sound of the commotion. My eyes landed on him, our Henry, fists clenched, hair wild from tugging at it, and his tutor standing frozen beside him, holding the remnants of the torn book.“Henry,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady, calm. “What’s going on here?”He spun toward me, his eyes blazing with something deeper than just a child’s tantrum. Hurt. Fear. Defiance.“You’re not even my real mom!” he screamed.The words slammed into me like a blade. My bre