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CHAPTER 51

Auteur: Wummie
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-08-28 09:31:19

AMAYA

The great hall glitters with gold and crystal, but the polished floors and glowing chandeliers can’t hide the bite of the air inside. Formal gatherings in Grayhide are always suffocating, a thousand sharp eyes measuring worth by pedigree, not by heart.

These gatherings have become the bane of my existence.

I balance a silver tray in my hands, weaving through the crowd of elders and high-ranking wolves. The murmurs around me rise and fall like tides I’m not welcome to swim in. Evelara sits near the head table, a truly radiant beauty, clothed in an emerald colored silk. Her lips curve when she sees me.

“Careful,” she drawls, loud enough for her friends to hear as I pass with goblets of wine. “You wouldn’t want to drop something important again. Unless clumsiness is all you’re good for.”

The women around her titter behind their manicured hands.

I keep my face neutral. "I'll try not to disappoint," I say lightly, setting down the drinks with precise calm. My words aren't sharp, but
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  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 51

    AMAYAThe great hall glitters with gold and crystal, but the polished floors and glowing chandeliers can’t hide the bite of the air inside. Formal gatherings in Grayhide are always suffocating, a thousand sharp eyes measuring worth by pedigree, not by heart.These gatherings have become the bane of my existence.I balance a silver tray in my hands, weaving through the crowd of elders and high-ranking wolves. The murmurs around me rise and fall like tides I’m not welcome to swim in. Evelara sits near the head table, a truly radiant beauty, clothed in an emerald colored silk. Her lips curve when she sees me.“Careful,” she drawls, loud enough for her friends to hear as I pass with goblets of wine. “You wouldn’t want to drop something important again. Unless clumsiness is all you’re good for.”The women around her titter behind their manicured hands.I keep my face neutral. "I'll try not to disappoint," I say lightly, setting down the drinks with precise calm. My words aren't sharp, but

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 50

    DARIANThe wind off the northern ridges still clings to my cloak as I stride into the pack house, but it isn’t the cold that tightens my jaw, it’s the way the servants go silent when I pass. Whispers follow me down the hall, hushed tones and sidelong glances. They scatter when I turn my head, but not before I catch one word repeated under their breath.Amaya.Of course. Evelara must be busy. That must be why the rumor mill was working overtime.I didn't expect to journey to the northern sector more than once, but I like to be thorough with things I've taken an interest in, especially things that are under my command.By the time I reach my office, Lucian is already there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking as if he’s been waiting for me.“You’re back early,” he says evenly.“The situation up north was resolved faster than expected.” I drop my gloves on the desk, noting the way he studies me. “Is there something you want to say?”Lucian hesitates, which means

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 49

    AMAYAI can hear them more clearly now.The whispers follow me like shadows.At first, I think I'm imagining them, the glances from the other servants, the way conversations falter when I enter a room, and they always seem to change the subject. But by midday, I can feel the hostility pressing in, subtle but sharp, like thorns hidden beneath silk. Evelara's handiwork, no doubt.Yes, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.“Move faster, rogue,” a scullery maid mutters as I pass. She doesn’t meet my eyes, but the curl of her lip says enough.I bite my tongue and keep walking, balancing the tray in my hands. It isn’t worth reacting. Not here. Not now.Trish finds me in the laundry room, folding linens alone. She slips through the door with her usual quick, light steps and closes it firmly behind her.“You’re not imagining it,” she says without preamble, as if she could read my mind. “They’re talking.”I keep my hands busy, smoothing a sheet that doesn’t need smoothing. “About what?”

  • The Slave Who Owned The Moon   CHAPTER 48

    LUCIANAmaya’s hiding something.That thought has been gnawing at me for days, creeping in whenever I close my eyes. She's too careful, too deliberate in the way she moves through the house. Servants are supposed to stumble, gossip, and complain. She glides. She listens more than she speaks.This morning, I decided to stop wondering and start digging.The library is quiet at this hour, dawn light spilling across the floor. I open personnel rosters, pack records, even old mercenary ledgers, anything that might explain who she is. There’s nothing. No birthplace listed. No family ties. No past employment.It’s as if she appeared from thin air.I rub my jaw, staring at the blank spaces where information should be. Not even a forged paper trail. That, more than anything, bothers me. Someone wanted her invisible.And Darian? My brother notices everything. He has to know unless he's been too distracted.I find him in his office just before noon, surrounded by reports. His shoulders are hunch

  • 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

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