The Moon Goddess’s Cruel Joke

Elara’s POV

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Draven leaned against my bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, watching me smooth down my dress for the third time in as many minutes. I forced my hands still and glared at him.

“I’m not pacing.”

“You’ve walked the same six steps back and forth since I got here.”

“I’m nervous about the council seat,” I said, which was true, though it wasn’t the whole truth. The whole truth had golden eyes and a voice that still echoed through my dreams.

Draven raised an eyebrow like he could hear the lie anyway. He probably could. Seven years apart hadn’t erased the way he always seemed to read straight through me. “Does this nervousness have a name? Maybe one that starts with a C?”

“Get in the carriage, Draven.”

He laughed, but he didn’t push further, just offered me his arm the way he always had, steady and familiar in a way that settled something in my chest.

The ride to the palace felt shorter than I wanted it to. When we stepped out, Draven’s hand resting lightly at the small of my back, I felt eyes on us immediately, whispers rippling through the gathered nobles like wind through tall grass.

I saw Cassian before he saw me. He stood near the palace entrance in formal attire, and the moment his gaze landed on Draven’s hand against my back, something dark passed over his face. His jaw clenched. His eyes flashed gold for just a second before he mastered himself.

I filed that reaction away and refused to think too hard about what it meant.

“Lady Elara Vexley,” a herald announced as we entered the grand hall, and the murmuring grew louder.

“Isn’t that the Vexley girl who used to be teased for her weight?” a noblewoman whispered, not nearly quietly enough, to the woman beside her. “I heard she inherited Blackthorn purely out of sentiment. Alistair always did have a soft spot for strays.”

“She’ll lose that territory within the year,” another voice added. “A council seat requires far more than a pretty face and good luck.”

I kept my chin lifted and my expression calm, though every whispered insult landed somewhere old and tender inside me. I had survived worse than whispers. I could survive this.

The King sat upon his throne at the far end of the hall, his expression unreadable as we approached. Beside him stood an elderly priestess holding a small pedestal, upon which rested a smooth, pale stone that seemed to catch the light strangely.

“Lady Vexley,” the King said, his voice deep and measured. “Welcome. Before we discuss matters of territory, tradition requires that all new council members present themselves before the Moonstone, as your grandfather once did.”

I glanced at the stone, uncertain, then stepped forward as instructed. The moment I came within a few feet of the pedestal, the stone flared to life.

A soft silver light burst from its center, pulsing outward like a heartbeat, bathing the entire hall in glowing light. Gasps rippled through the crowd. I froze, staring down at the stone in shock, my own heart hammering wildly in my chest.

“That’s not possible,” someone whispered.

The priestess’s eyes went wide. “The stone only reacts this strongly in the presence of destined mates.”

My stomach dropped.

“She’s clearly reacting to something else,” another noble said quickly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

The light was already beginning to fade when Cassian stepped forward, drawn by something he clearly couldn’t control, and the moment he came within range of the stone, it flared again, brighter than before, pulsing in perfect rhythm with my racing heartbeat.

The entire hall erupted into chaos.

“Impossible,” a council member gasped.

“The Crown Prince and the Vexley girl?” someone else said, horror and disbelief mixing in their voice.

The King rose from his throne, his face pale with something I couldn’t quite read, shock and calculation both. “This cannot be a coincidence.”

I stood frozen, staring at the stone, my mind screaming that this had to be some mistake, some trick, anything other than the truth I had spent seven years running from.

“It’s an old stone,” I said, my voice shakier than I wanted it to be. “It could be reacting to anything. The moon phase. Residual magic. It doesn’t mean.”

“Elara.” Cassian’s voice cut through my rambling, low and rough, and I turned to find him staring at me with an intensity that stole the air from my lungs.

His eyes had gone fully gold now, his wolf clearly fighting for control just beneath the surface, and before I could step back, before I could put distance between us the way every instinct screamed at me to do, his hand shot out and closed around my wrist.

His grip wasn’t painful, but it was absolute, unyielding, like something ancient and possessive had taken hold of him completely.

“Cassian, let go of me,” I said, my voice low and urgent, aware of every single eye in the hall locked on us.

He didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened, pulling me half a step closer to him, his chest rising and falling hard like he was fighting some battle raging entirely beneath his skin.

“Cassian.” I tried again, panic creeping into my voice now.

His eyes burned into mine, gold and fierce and utterly unrecognizable from the boy who once laughed at my expense in front of an entire kingdom.

“Mine,” he growled, the word rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, low and possessive and impossible to mistake for anything else.

The entire hall fell into stunned, horrified silence..