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The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 219
Sargis's POV I sat beside her, watching the auroras fold and unfurl, as if the heavens themselves were alive, their colors spilling like molten ink across the tapestry of stars. The sky burned with hues no mortal painter could capture, violets melting into emerald, gold bleeding into sapphire, yet all of it paled against the quiet wonder sitting next to me. She chewed on her banana with that little half-smile she always tried to hide, thinking I wouldn't notice. But I noticed everything. Always. And gods help me, I couldn't look away. Not from the sky, or from the rivers of fire winding through the dark. Only from her. Always her. If she only knew the war I had fought inside myself for this woman. There had been nights when I thought I would lose her, not to another man, nor to fate, but to the weight of her own scars. Nights when her fear shouted louder than her faith, when she pushed me away with words like daggers, and silence sharper still
The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 218
Outside, the palace corridors lay hushed, shadows stretched long and solemn across the marble floors. My footsteps whispered over the carpeted stairs as I descended, the silence wrapping closer with every step, anticipation tightening inside me like a drawn bowstring. At the front drive, the limousine waited with its headlights spilling pale gold against the stone archway. I slipped inside, sinking into the plush leather seat. The driver inclined his head in silent acknowledgment before steering us toward the Velariad, the engine purring low as the palace began to retreat behind us. I curled my fingers around the cuff of Sargis's shirt, tugging absently at the fabric while my mind raced ahead of the car. What could he possibly be planning? A moonlit walk along the riverbank? A quiet corner in one of Velariad's taverns where no one bowed or whispered our names? I smiled at the thought, knowing with Sargis it could be anything, from a stolen hour of simpl
The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 217
By the time the sunlight outside the windows guttered to a softer gold, the throne room might as well have been a dream, the memory of chains and judgment already receding into the stone. I'd peeled away the heavy gown hours ago and slipped into a cotton short and a cropped tee that bared a sliver of skin to the cooling night air, grateful for the softness after the weight of ceremonial brocade. The bed sighed as I crawled onto it, settling cross-legged amid rumpled sheets that still carried Sargis's scent. I let it soothe me as I pulled the tablet onto my lap and opened the group call. The familiar trilling rings echoed once, twice. Then the dark screen fractured into light and laughter, my girls appeared one by one, each framed in the intimacy of their own rooms. Maelis's feed snapped on first, her hair bound up in a satin scarf, laughter spilling out before the image even stabilized. "Finally! We thought you'd forgotten the little people now that you
The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 216
The smell hit first, so thick, rancid, and cloying it felt like a swarm pressing into my throat until bile nearly rose. I swallowed hard, willing my face to stay impassive even as my stomach lurched. The guards dragged them forward, chains scraping the marble like nails down bone. The first figure to emerge was Joe. Behind him, the rest shuffled in, those men who had once turned cruelty into a game, who carved laughter from screams, who wore my suffering as though it were a medal. Now their wrists clinked under iron, and their heads bowed beneath the weight of their own ruin. I sank deeper into the throne, fingers curling hard around the carved armrests, every muscle in my body begging me to tremble. I did not. I would not. My heart thundered like war drums beneath my ribs, but I lifted my chin and forced myself to meet their eyes. For an instant, the past clawed up my throat, blood pooling against stone, cold walls mocking my isolation, the e
The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 215
Two weeks later, and we still hadn't learned how to stop touching each other. I found myself tracing the ridge of Sargis's knuckles while pretending to read reports, fingers drifting almost absently until he caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. He would pass behind me on his way to a council briefing and graze my hip with the back of his hand, just enough to send heat chasing up my spine. It was ridiculous, really, like some quiet fever we carried everywhere. At breakfast, I'd feel his knee brush mine beneath the table, and my thoughts would scatter like startled birds. The guards politely averted their eyes, the servants pretended to be deaf, but the knowing smiles were impossible to miss. Nights were worse, or better, depending on how I looked at it. We'd collapse into bed after hours of court obligations, vowing to sleep early, and then some small thing, his breath warm against my neck, or my lips grazing the edge of his collarbone, would un
The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna 214
Hours later, the chandeliers had begun to blur, each crystal dripping golden light like overripe fruit. Applause, toasts, yet another parade of dignitaries with stiff smiles and perfumed hands, the noise pressed against my skull until I could barely taste my own breath. Sargis caught my eye across the ballroom, that subtle tilt of his mouth the only warning before his fingers slid into mine beneath the tablecloth. "Enough?" he murmured. "Far too much," I breathed back, already fighting a laugh. We slipped out while the orchestra still spun its silvery waltz, ghosting along the side corridor like guilty children. The marble echoed under our hurried steps. Somewhere behind us, a herald called for yet another round of congratulations, but we were already disappearing into the hush of the palace's sleeping wing. The farther we went, the lighter I felt. The air tasted of night-blooming jasmine drifting in from an open colonnade. I couldn't stop the
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