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CHAPTER 126
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2025-11-17 07:51:01
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The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 127
AmayaSleep never came. Every time I closed my eyes, the weight of the sealed scroll and the faint burn of the crescent mark pulled me back into wakefulness. By dawn, my pulse was steady but my mind was a storm. The plan had already taken root—tonight, the eastern wall would open for me.I spent the morning blending into routine. The servant quarters were already alive with chatter and footsteps, and the smell of woodsmoke clung to everything. I scrubbed the floors, fetched water, smiled when spoken to—just another nameless shadow among many. But beneath that stillness, my thoughts ran fast.By midday, Darian passed through the hall. The air shifted as it always did around him—heavy, charged, impossible to ignore. His hand brushed a chair as he gave an order to one of the guards, his voice deep and even. I didn’t look up. Still, I felt his gaze linger a heartbeat longer than necessary. He knew I’d been restless. He always did.Trish met me later behind the kitchens, out of sight of th
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 126
AmayaThe night had not yet given way to dawn when I found myself back at the ridge. The cold bit deep, sharp enough to draw breath from my lungs. The eastern wall of the Grayhide compound lay before me, quiet and still, as if mocking everything I had uncovered beneath its surface.The parchment rested inside my cloak, the one marked with my mother’s sigil. Even now, I could feel its weight against my ribs, like a heartbeat that wasn’t my own. The symbol of the crescent and flame—her mark—glowed faintly when the moonlight brushed it. That mark had changed everything.Trish caught up to me, her breath uneven, her steps lighter than usual. “You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?”I shook my head. The truth was, sleep had become a stranger. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning, retracing the same question over and over—why had the Varyn sigil been hidden inside the Grayhide archives?Trish wrapped her arms around herself. “You think it means your mother was here?”“I don’t think,” I murmu
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 125
LUCIAN“One degree,” Amaya says.Light thickens. The crystal hums like a throat. Theron lifts his ring. Evelara needles her flame.“Hold them,” Theron says.“Come take us,” I answer.Darian steps to my right. We make a narrow wall in a wide room.“Do not touch her,” he tells the men.They hesitate. His voice costs.“Left,” I tell him.He shifts. The first guard slides from shadow. I catch his wrist, turn, and send his knife to the floor. Darian clips his knee. The man folds.“Back,” I say.We slide one step. The cradle creaks. Amaya does not move her hand. Light lays across her cheek like milk.“Now,” Isolde whispers from inside the glow.“Do not listen to her,” Darian says.“I am listening to Amaya,” I say.Two more come. I take the quick one. He leads with iron. I let it kiss my coat, then give him the pillar. He bounces. Darian drives the heavy one into stone and steals his air with a shoulder.Evelara smiles. “You both look tired.”“We are,” I say. “Keep coming.”She flicks a ribb
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 124
AMAYA“Basement,” I say.Now.Darian nods and turns for the servants’ lane. Lucian takes my left, reading shadows. Trish keeps close to Garran. Amon watches our feet and copies them.“We split here,” Garran says at the laundry arch. “I take the boy. Trish with me until third bell.”“Go,” I tell him. “No heroics.”“Only habit,” he says, and vanishes.Darian leads us through the scullery and down a stair. Stone is wet, air full of ash. We pass a locked room of flour, another of wine. Darian presses a palm against blank wall. Stone shifts.“Secret?” Lucian asks.“Father liked them,” Darian says.The passage angles left and drops. A hum rises beneath the steps and gets into my teeth. It feels like thunder leashed.“That is it,” I whisper.Lucian glances at my hand. “Steady?”“Not yet,” I say. “Soon.”We reach a slab door with iron latches shaped like wolves. The metal is cold the way iron is for me and something else. Darian sets his palm to the center. Nothing.“Council seals,” he says.
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 123
LUCIAN“Left,” I say.Amaya cuts for the dark between two sheds. Trish stays with her, small and fast. Garran swings behind with Amon tucked to his side.“Keep low,” I add.We cross a strip of open ground. Smoke hangs in sheets. Torches rake the rooftops like teeth. The nets are behind us for now.“Listen,” Amaya says.I hear boots. I hear metal. I hear a bell struggling to live again.“Quarry lane,” I tell Garran. “Back stair to the dye loft. We split at the kiln.”He nods once. “We know the turns.”A voice floats from the square. Evelara. Calm. Pretty. Wrong.“Alive,” she calls. “Unmarked.”Trish swallows hard. “She means you.”“She means all of us,” I say.We slip into the kiln yard. Heat breathes up from sleeping brick. A gutter runs black along the wall. It tastes like old ash.“Stop,” Amaya whispers.I freeze. Three shadows move across the far arch. Their spears drag the stones.“Window,” Garran murmurs.We slide through a broken frame into the loft. Threads of light cut the dus
The Slave Who Owned The Moon CHAPTER 122
AMAYAI do not remember when fear began to feel like a shape I could hold. Tonight it has edges. It has teeth.The market is a throat full of people and smoke. Nets fall like sudden rain. They catch arms, shoulders, anything that moves. Silver threads flash with wolfsbane and intent. I feel them before I see them, a cold vibration under my skin that answers a footstep. Trish is pressed to my side, small and shaking, and Garran is a map of quiet motion. Lucian is a shadow at my back. Darian is a stone in my chest.Evelara moves like a knife through water, smooth and cold. She lifts her palm and makes flame bloom as if lighting a candle. It is clean, controlled, cruel. The net above us shrieks when heat licks it and parts just enough for a gate. People gasp as if the world lost its balance. Theron hears it and smiles the way a man smells blood. He points, and soldiers follow.I keep my hands loose at my sides, palms empty. The iron ring in my pocket feels like a secret. Heat slides unde
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