Chapter 4 : The boy from the moon

For several seconds, the world went silent.

I saw my mother's lips move. I saw the soldiers staring. I saw the silver glow still shining on every face. But the words "it belongs to you" kept ringing in my head like a bell that would not stop.

"Mom," I said slowly. "I am a baker. I do not own jewelry. I own two aprons and a bad attitude."

A broken laugh escaped her. Then she started to cry again, and I felt terrible.

My dad pulled her close. "Let me tell him, Mary."

"No," she said. "It should be me. I was the one who opened the door that night."

She took a deep breath. She looked so tired. I had never seen her look so old.

"Twenty-two years ago, there was a storm," she said. "Your father was out in the fields. I was alone at home. Somebody knocked on the door in the middle of the night. When I opened it, there was a woman on the step. She was bleeding. She could barely stand. And she was holding a baby wrapped in a silver blanket."

I did not move.

"She said there was no time. She said men were coming to kill the baby. She put you in my arms, and she took this necklace off her own neck, and she put it in my hand. Then she told me, hide him, hide the moon, and never let anyone see it. Your father had given me a plain silver chain on our wedding day. The night you came, I hung the moon on it, and I never took it off." My mom wiped her face. "She walked back into the storm. We never saw her again."

Nobody spoke. Even the fire seemed quieter.

"I came home at dawn," my dad said. His voice was thick. "Mary told me everything. I knew the necklace was important. I did not know how important. We never had a child of our own, and then a miracle knocked on our door. We loved you from the first second, son. That never changed. Not once. Not for one day."

My eyes were burning. I looked down at my hands. They were the same hands I had always had, covered in old flour burns and little cuts from the oven.

"So I am adopted," I said. My voice came out small.

"You are ours," my mother said fiercely. "You are our son. Blood has nothing to do with it."

I could not answer. I just stepped forward and hugged them both, right there in front of the whole army. I did not care who watched. My mom smelled like smoke and bread, and I held on to her like I was five years old again.

I did not want to think about the woman at the door. Not yet. Right now I had a mother and a father, and they were right here.

Behind me, Kael spoke. His voice was rough.

"The woman who came to your door. Did she have silver hair? A scar on her left hand?"

My mother looked up. "Yes. How did you know?"

Kael closed his eyes for a moment.

"Her name was Lyra," he said. "She was the High Guardian of the Moon. My father trusted her more than anyone alive."

"The Moon Guardians," I said. "From the old stories?"

"From the real world." He opened his eyes. They were silver again, and very sad. "The Guardians protected the bonds between mates. Without them, no Lycan king could ever be sure of his true mate. Twenty-two years ago, the whole family was killed in one night. They said the line was gone."

"But there was one," I whispered. "A baby."

"A baby with a moon seal." Kael looked at the pendant, then at me. "A Guardian can do what no wolf can. A normal rejection only wounds a bond. That is what you did tonight, and that is why we are still alive. But a Guardian can mend a cracked bond, or cut one clean. You are the only person alive who can do either."

"That is a lot of pressure for a guy who burns toast sometimes."

"You never burn toast," my father said. "You are the best baker in three villages."

"Thanks, Dad. Not the point."

Kael almost smiled again. Then his face changed. His eyes narrowed, and he looked around the square, counting.

"Who knew the Guardian's child was alive?" he asked quietly. "Who would want him dead?"

Nobody answered.

Vance stepped forward. He had said nothing since the necklace lit up, but now his voice was calm and sad.

"My king, I beg you to be careful. The old records say the Guardians once forced a bond on a king and nearly tore the kingdom in half. Their power is dangerous. I have no wish to hurt the boy. I only wish to protect you."

It sounded reasonable. It sounded almost kind. But when he looked at me, his eyes were cold.

"A wonderful surprise, Your Majesty," he went on. "But the night is cold, and you are not well. Let us take everyone to the castle."

"No," Kael said. "Not yet. First I want to know who ordered..."

He stopped.

I saw it happen. His breath caught, and his hand shot to his chest. His face went white, and then gray.

"Kael?"

It was the first time I had said his name. It came out before I could think.

I felt it too. A hard, strange pull in my own chest, as if the bond had grabbed my heart and was pulling it toward him. When the pendant woke, the bond woke with it. It was trying to heal itself. And it was taking his strength to do it.

He swayed. Soldiers rushed forward, but I got there first. I do not know how. I caught him as he fell, and his huge body dropped me right to the ground with him on top of me.

"Kael! Hey! Wake up!"

His skin was ice cold. A thin line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

"The king is dying!" someone shouted.

"It is the human's curse!" Vance's voice rang out above the noise. "The boy rejected the bond, and now he is killing our king! Seize him!"

Hands grabbed my arms. I fought them. I kicked and yelled and tried to hold on to Kael, but they were too strong. They dragged me back, and I screamed his name.

He lay motionless on the dirt, his blood dark against the ground.

His chest was not moving.

Then the pain hit me. My heart stumbled once. Twice. And then an awful silence settled inside my chest.

I could not tell if I was dying, or if I was only feeling him die.