chapter 5

Lucia POV

Your Majesty!”

The High Priest’s ancient, trembling voice broke through the suffocating silence of the cathedral. The old wolf fell to his knees before the dais, bowing his head so low it nearly touched the marble floor.

“The light… the resonance…” The priest raised a shaking, withered hand toward my throat, his milky eyes wide with holy awe. “She is your true fated mate! The Moon Goddess herself has sealed this union!”

A sharp, collective gasp rippled through the noble court. Murmurs exploded through the pews like wildfire.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I looked up at King Damian, a tiny, fragile spark of hope igniting in my chest. Could it be true? Could he finally see me?

King Damian stared down at the glowing mark on my neck. For one second, his eyes softened, swirling with a blinding, silver light.

Then, his face hardened into impenetrable granite.

“No.”

The single word fell like an iron axe, slicing through the air and instantly severing the fragile hope in my chest.

“I do not believe it,” King Damian declared, his deep voice dripping with pure, toxic denial. He took another deliberate step away from me, severing the divine warmth of our proximity. “She cannot be my true mate. She is nothing more than an intruder—an unwanted wife forced onto my throne by a twisted trick of fate!”

The nobles exhaled in quiet relief, their venomous smirks returning.

King Damian turned back to the High Priest, his jaw set like iron, his silver eyes cold as winter ice. “We will finish this farce. Proceed with the ceremony.”

My throat constricted. A bitter, scalding tear spilled over my lashes, tracing a painful path down my cheek.

I didn't blame him. Not entirely.

I didn't blame the terrifying king who stood before me, blinded by his own grief and stubborn pride. I blamed the monsters who had dragged me into this hell. I blamed my stepsister, Elena, who had drugged my wine with a smile. I blamed Adrian, my boyfriend—the man I thought was my fated mate—who had traded my virtue and my trust just to sleep in my sister’s bed.

They had set me up. They had thrown me to the alpha king like a lamb to a slaughterhouse, ensuring I would be crowned not as a cherished queen, but as an unwanted burden.

“Let it be known to the realm,” King Damian’s ruthless voice boomed through the sanctuary, reaching every dark corner of the hall, “she carries the title of Luna for now. She will sit beside me until the day I find my true, lost mate. When that day comes, she will step down.”

Until he finds her…

Every word cut straight into my soul, tearing my heart to ribbons. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness consume me as the priest rushed through the final blessing. The crown was placed upon my head—heavy, cold, and suffocating.

The moment the ordeal was over and the royal procession concluded, I fled.

I rushed through the cold stone corridors of the royal palace, my long velvet skirts sweeping the floor as I practically ran toward the King’s private wing. I burst into the grand royal suite—the chamber I had been told I would share with the sovereign.

Two low-ranking maids stepped forward, their faces emotionless as they unpinned the heavy, silver-embroidered wedding robes from my shoulders. The moment the heavy fabric fell to the floor, I dismissively gestured for them to leave.

I stood in my thin, ivory nightgown, shivering in the drafty room. Wiping the damp tracks from my face, I climbed onto the massive, velvet-draped canopy bed. I pulled the heavy blankets up to my chin, curling into a tight ball, desperately seeking warmth in a fortress made of ice.

Hours passed. The room fell into pitch darkness, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the high arched windows.

A heavy click echoed through the room.

The double doors swung open, and the towering silhouette of King Damian filled the doorway. He stepped inside, smelling of cold night air, expensive wine, and dangerous power.

He froze the moment his glowing silver eyes landed on the bed.

Instantly, the temperature in the room plummeted. An oppressive, suffocating aura exploded from his frame, pinning me to the mattress.

“What are you doing in my bed?” he demanded, his voice a low, lethal growl that made the glass panes rattle. “How dare you lay your head upon my pillows?”

Terror seized my chest, but my sorrow burned hotter. I sat up slowly, my hands trembling violently as I raised them into the dim moonlight, forcing my mute lips to form silent, desperate shapes.

I... I thought I was supposed to sleep here, I signed, my chest heaving with silent, ragged breaths. I am your wife now… I thought a wife slept beside her husband.

“You are not my wife!” King Damian barked, marching toward the bed like an apex predator stalking its prey. He stopped at the edge of the mattress, looming over me, his face carved of absolute disgust. “Do not dare to use that title in my presence. You are merely an unwanted ghost wearing a crown you do not deserve!”

I flinched back, tears spilling freely over my cheeks.

“Listen to me carefully,” he rasped, bending down until his glowing silver eyes were inches from my pale face. “When the woman I actually seek returns—when my true mate comes back to claim her place—you will be discarded. You will pack your things and leave this palace, and no one will remember your name.”

The cruel words sliced through my chest, opening raw, bleeding wounds.

He stood up straight, his face returning to a mask of unyielding, stoic ice as he unbuckled his heavy leather tunic, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“You may sleep in this bed,” the King commanded, his voice cold, flat, and entirely devoid of life. “You may lay beside me in the dark so the court believes our lie. But do not expect a single touch. Do not expect kindness. And above all else…”

He looked down at my pale, shivering form one last time, his silver eyes flashing with dark, absolute finality.

“…never expect my heart.”