chapter 4

The Luna trial wasn’t just a tradition—it was a sacred rite, proof that the Moon Goddess herself had chosen me as Luna. And it was one thing no one, not even Frederick’s grandmother, could say no to.

Grandmother Eleanor entered the hall like a stone dropped into still water—silent but impossible to ignore.

“Tonight,” her voice rang out, steady and commanding, “there will be a Luna trial.”

The room froze for a heartbeat. Then whispers spread—low, curious, laced with excitement.

I felt every pair of eyes burning into me—not with welcome, but with judgment. I stood near the long oak table, fingers tightening slowly on the edge of a chair. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, but it felt suffocating.

A Luna trial. So that was the truth.

The pack didn’t accept me.

They didn’t see me as their Luna.

I was the woman who had stolen their Alpha.

A scoff broke through the murmurs.

“Finally,” a female voice muttered. “Let’s see if she deserves the title.”

Others joined in.

“She doesn’t bear the Alpha’s mark.”

“The Moon Goddess never chose her.”

“Just a forced bride.”

Each whisper pressed like a needle against my skin.

I kept my face calm—expressionless—but inside, something cracked. Slowly, I lifted my gaze.

Our eyes met—Frederick stood at the head of the table, tall and still, draped in dark clothes that made him look colder than ever. His jaw clenched tight. His eyes unreadable. He said nothing. He stopped no one.

That silence cut deeper than any whisper.

A soft laugh broke the tension. Clara stepped forward, graceful as ever, brushing an imaginary speck from her pale dress.

“Well,” she said sweetly, eyes sliding toward me, “that seems fair.”

“If she wants to be Luna, she should prove it.”

Heads nodded. Clara’s heels clicked as she approached Frederick, slipping her hand around his arm with effortless familiarity—intimate, possessive.

My chest tightened.

Clara’s gaze softened with pity.

“You understand, don’t you?” she murmured. “Being Luna isn’t just about wearing a ring.”

Her eyes dropped deliberately to my hand.

“To be honest,” she added with a sly tilt of her head, “this whole situation embarrasses the pack.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall.

I inhaled slowly, the weight of rejection pressing down. Memories flickered—last night’s cold vows, Frederick’s vacant glance, the empty side of the bed.

I vowed to stay strong. But standing here, facing the pack, feeling like a stranger in my own marriage—it was humiliating.

My eyes drifted to Frederick. Clara’s hand clung to his arm, and he didn’t move away.

Bitter rose in my throat. This was the truth: I wasn’t their Luna. I was a mistake—a political pawn forced on their Alpha. And everyone knew it.

Clara leaned closer to Frederick, whispering, “You know this is ridiculous. Everyone knows who should really stand beside you.”

His eyes darkened, but he stayed silent.

Grandmother Eleanor’s cane tapped sharply against the floor, cutting through the murmurs.

“That’s enough.”

Her silver gaze swept the room.

“The Luna trial is a sacred tradition,” she declared. “And traditions exist for a reason.”

She turned toward me; for a flicker, her expression softened.

“Tonight,” Eleanor continued, “the new Luna will prove herself before the entire pack.”

Anticipation rippled through the crowd—curiosity, doubt, hunger for spectacle.

A trial meant tests—strength, wit, leadership. Failure meant humiliation.

Clara’s smile widened with satisfaction.

“Well,” she said lightly, “this should be interesting.”

Leaning close to Frederick, she whispered, “Don’t you think?”

Frederick finally moved. His gaze shifted to me. Our eyes locked for a moment—an unreadable intensity flashing before vanishing.

His voice was cold and clipped.

“Prepare the grounds.”

Warriors rose instantly.

“Yes, Alpha.”

The tension thickened.

I straightened, back stiff, chin lifting. If they wanted a trial—fine. I’d give them one. No begging. No tears. And definitely no breaking in front of Clara.

She watched me closely, waiting for a crack. When I simply turned and strode toward the exit, her smile faltered.

Interesting. Maybe this would be more entertaining than she expected.

At the doorway, Clara’s voice drifted after me—sweet, mocking:

“Try not to embarrass yourself tonight.”

Soft laughter echoed behind me.

I paused for a heartbeat, then continued walking—steps calm, controlled. Inside, a fierce fire burned—not shame or fear, but determination.

If the pack thought I’d fail, they were about to be very disappointed.

Grandmother Eleanor’s voice pierced the hall once more.

“And one more thing.”

All eyes turned back to her. Her gaze locked on Frederick.

“Tonight’s trial will test more than strength.”

The hall fell silent again.

Her voice grew colder, sharper.

“It will reveal who truly deserves to stand beside the Alpha.”

Clara’s smile widened. Frederick’s jaw clenched.

And deep within the pack bond, a new tension stirred.

Because tonight... only one woman would walk away as Luna.