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CHAPTER 21

Author: Wummie
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-12 02:01:49

AMAYA

It’s ridiculous how quickly kindness can sour in your memory.

This morning, Darian’s voice had almost sounded… warm. The words had felt warm in a way I didn’t expect.

Now, hours later, all I can think about is the fact that he only speaks to me that way when no one else is around.

In public, I’m invisible.

And maybe I should be grateful for that, after all, it’s safer if I remain unknown, but I’m not.

I’m irritated. It’s like being given a glimpse of something only to have it snatched away the moment there’s an audience.

By the time the dinner bell echoes faintly through the halls, my annoyance has settled into a heavy feeling I can’t explain. And when the head servant tells me Lucian has requested his meal be brought to his quarters tonight, the contrast between the two brothers pops into my head like a bad memory.

While Darian keeps me in the shadows, Lucian, on the other hand… he never pretends I don’t exist.

The tray is heavier than it looks: a covered plate of roast, steam
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  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 47

    AMAYADarian is gone.The estate feels different without him, the air less sharp, the walls less oppressive. Servants move with lighter steps when he’s not prowling the corridors like a storm waiting to break. For me, his absence is an opportunity, one I cannot waste.I slip into the ancient archives just after sunset. The massive oak door groans softly as I push it open, and the familiar scent of parchment, dust, and candle wax hits me like a comforting cloak. Shelves tower around me, lined with records older than my grandmother’s stories. Somewhere in here lies what I need, a crack in the Grayhide Pack’s walls, a weakness I can exploit when the time is right.I light a single candle, shielding the flame with my hand. The golden glow barely touches the endless rows of leather-bound books and crumbling scrolls. My fingers trace the spines, reading faded lettering. Territorial Disputes, 3rd Era… Pack Genealogies… Alpha Succession Rites…Nothing useful. Nothing sharp enough to cut the

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 46

    DARIANThe knock on my office door comes before dawn, sharp and insistent. Only bad news arrives this early.“Enter,” I call, voice still rough from lack of sleep.Ronan, my beta, strides in, cloak damp with morning mist. "Alpha, a message from the northern sector. Their council says the villagers are refusing tribute. They're demanding a direct audience with you."I rub my temple, suppressing a growl. “Tribute refusal? That’s not defiance, it’s desperation. What’s their grievance?”“They claim the harvest was poor this year,” Ronan says carefully. “But… Theron is advising immediate discipline. He says hesitation looks like weakness.”Of course he does. I push back from my desk, the carved wood legs scraping against stone. “Summon the elders. We settle this face-to-face.”I hoped by now the issue with the northern sector would have been resolved, but that's proving not to be the case at the moment. Now I have to do the last thing I wanted to do. Summon the elders, again.The council c

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 45

    DARIAN The message comes just before dawn, sharp and cold as the wind outside my window. A runner kneels at my door, chest heaving. Unrest in the northern sector. Refusal to pay tribute. Hostility spreading.The pack doesn’t sleep while I’m awake. By the time I stride into the council chamber, warriors and advisors are already gathering. The heavy doors close behind me with a hollow thud. I don’t sit. I stand at the head of the long table, hands flat against the wide map stretched across it, breathing in the silence that falls when an Alpha is about to speak.Lucian arrives next, slipping in without ceremony. He takes the seat at my right, his steady presence a reminder that someone here still has my back. Theron comes last, of course, gliding in like the room belongs to him. He greets no one, just lowers himself into a chair with that calm arrogance that makes my teeth ache.“The northern sector is restless,” I say, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “The tribute shipm

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 44

    AMAYAThe halls are hushed this late, washed in pale streaks of moonlight filtering through narrow windows. Every sound I make, every scuff of my boots, every soft breath seems too loud. I balance a bundle of fresh linens against my chest, the faint lavender scent clinging to my fingers, and keep moving, forcing myself not to think.I’ve been working late more and more. It’s easier than lying awake with my thoughts. Easier than remembering the dinner, Evelara’s smirk as I picked myself off the floor, Darian’s silence like a blade pressed to my throat.The corridor ahead yawns empty, shadows pooling in the high arches. Peaceful. Or it should be.“You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate.”I freeze mid-step. His voice, smooth, low, too calm, slices through the stillness. My heart lurches.Lucian steps out from the shadow of an archway like he’s been waiting there, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes bright even in the dim light. He doesn’t look

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 43

    DARIANThe corridors hum with quiet conversation as the evening winds down. Servants move like shadows, clearing dishes from the council dinner, their eyes lowered whenever I pass. It’s the way they always are with me these days. Cautious, giving me space, afraid of the weight of my temper, and I’ve made no effort to soften it.Ahead, near the main stairwell, Lucian stands leaning casually against the wall, that easy grin on his face. And opposite him is Amaya. She’s carrying a folded stack of linens, her head slightly bowed as if she’s only half-listening.I slow my steps instinctively, staying just far enough away to hear without being obvious. Lucian speaks low, something teasing, and Amaya actually glances up at him. Her expression doesn’t fully soften, but the corners of her mouth twitch, betraying a reluctant response.I don’t like it.Lucian tilts his head, amused, eyes locked on her like she’s the only thing in the hall worth looking at. He says something else... I can’t catch

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 42

    AMAYAThe halls at night are too quiet. Not peaceful quiet, the kind that helps to clear your head and organise your thoughts, but this quiet was laced with a kind of heaviness, like the house itself is holding its breath. Every soft click of my boots on the stone feels like it echoes down the corridors. I carry a tray of neatly folded linens back toward the servants' quarters. My shoulders were aching, and my arms stiff from a day of work Evelara had piled onto me with that smug little smile of hers.At this point, I have gotten used to Evelara's torture, but tonight I just want to drop these off and collapse into bed.I round a corner and stop dead.Lucian is there. Leaning against the wall as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be loitering in a shadowed hallway near midnight. His arms are crossed, his posture lazy, but his eyes catch the dim torchlight like a wolf’s.“You’re out late,” he says, his voice sounding light and conversational.I keep my expression straight,

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