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Chapter 45 The One Who Doesn't Belong

Penulis: bluemorose
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-06-15 22:28:10

*Bruno*

The scent of wine and roasted meat turned to ash in Bruno's mouth the moment he saw him.

Through the ballroom's towering glass doors, past the writhing mass of silk-draped nobles and their glittering jewelry that caught candlelight like fractured stars, a shadow had fallen across the moonlit terrace. Not just any shadow—this one had substance, weight, the kind of presence that made the very air seem to thicken and curdle.

Nine years. Nine years of nightmares that left him gasping in sweat-soaked sheets, of healing bones that still ached when storms rolled in, of growing tall and lean and sharp-edged like a blade forged in fear. Nine years of learning to move like smoke through palace halls, to disappear into corners and doorways, to become invisible when survival demanded it. And still—still—Bruno's blood recognized that silhouette before his conscious mind could catch up.

The way the man's shoulders cut through lamplight like the edge of an executioner's axe. The predatory s
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  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 45 The One Who Doesn't Belong

    *Bruno* The scent of wine and roasted meat turned to ash in Bruno's mouth the moment he saw him.Through the ballroom's towering glass doors, past the writhing mass of silk-draped nobles and their glittering jewelry that caught candlelight like fractured stars, a shadow had fallen across the moonlit terrace. Not just any shadow—this one had substance, weight, the kind of presence that made the very air seem to thicken and curdle.Nine years. Nine years of nightmares that left him gasping in sweat-soaked sheets, of healing bones that still ached when storms rolled in, of growing tall and lean and sharp-edged like a blade forged in fear. Nine years of learning to move like smoke through palace halls, to disappear into corners and doorways, to become invisible when survival demanded it. And still—still—Bruno's blood recognized that silhouette before his conscious mind could catch up.The way the man's shoulders cut through lamplight like the edge of an executioner's axe. The predatory s

  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 44 Behind The Fur

    *Ana*“Mykhol,” I breathe, still dazed by the sight of him. Joy bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest, effervescent and overwhelming. "You came!" I laugh—the sound bright and giddy, spilling out before I can contain it—as I take a step forward on unsteady legs. "It was getting so late, I almost gave up on you."He lingers at the edge of the lantern-light like a figure stepped from shadow itself, framed by the golden spill of illumination from the palace windows. The warm glow catches the sharp angles of his face, casting him half in light, half in mystery. Beyond the glass doors, muffled conversation and music still echo—crystal chiming against crystal, the honeyed pull of a cello drawing hearts into its melody. But here in the garden, the cold air bites at my exposed arms with gentle teeth, and the dormant bushes sway with the night wind as though the very world holds its breath just for us."You act as though I would miss my little Ana's grand celebration." His voice flows like

  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 43 Take A Breather

    *Ana*"Oh…this isn't good." The words taste like copper on my tongue the moment they leave my lips as I step out. I've made the biggest mistake of all. But it's too late. I'm doomed. The click of the silver-and-glass doors shutting behind me all but confirmed my end. Because the moment they do, the world changes.The noise cuts off like a blade through velvet—sharp, final. No more crystal goblets chiming like broken bells, no strangled violin strings sawing through the air like tortured metal. No high-pitched laughter that claws at my eardrums, spilling from polished fangs of nobles drunk on bloodwine and their own importance. No overly eager lords with their grabbing hands—fingers that linger too long on my wrists, palms that press too low on my spine, breath that reeks of wine and desperation as they puff their invitations in my face.It’s immediately gone. Sealed off like a jewelry box snapping closed. The oppressive heat that radiated from braziers burning like funeral pyres, the

  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 42 Fangless Warrior

    *Pendwick*"What could ALL of you possibly be doing with my dear assistant?"The words hung in the air like frost crystallizing on glass. Pendwick immediately saw the effect. It was astonishing. No, this was the power of a king. The nobles who had been so boldly aggressive moments before didn't just retreat; they withered.Lord Halric's face drained of color so rapidly that Pendwick could trace the path of it—first his cheeks hollowing, then his lips blanching to the pallor of a corpse. His mouth worked silently, a desperate fish gasping on dry land, the tendons in his neck straining visibly beneath paper-thin skin.Duke Serevan's jowls quivered like custard, the flaccid flesh rippling with each panicked breath. His backward step sent a discordant squeak across the polished marble, the sound sharp as a needle in the sudden silence. The heavy brocade of his coat rustled as he nearly toppled, the weight of his own fear disrupting his balance.Pendwick watched in mute fascination as a be

  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 41 Always The Nice Guy

    *Pendwick*"Until you return," Pendwick murmured under his breath, but she did not hear him over the crescendo of the strings, the cheerful music mocking him with its brightness. Each note stabbed like tiny daggers as he yet again had to watch her go. It always seemed to happen that way—too late, too slow, too soft.Always out of his reach, running.Pendwick could only watch as Ana reached the silver glass doors. When she pulled them back, a sharp and bitter snap of wind knifed through, sweeping back into the great hall and extinguishing the nearest candles with violent puffs of smoke. The intrusive cold sent her shawl billowing with a melodic click of chains and crown, lifting the veil of perpetual red to reveal the true beauty underneath. Her bundled coils of silver hair—neatly braided and gleaming like moonrays against the black sea—caught the remaining light. The rush of air carried the tang of salt and ice from outside mingled with something sweeter, something uniquely Ana—sandal

  • Will Bear the Moon   Chapter 40 Daggers And Dances

    *Anastasia* "Sir Pendwick," I manage, steadying my voice even as my stomach plummets like a stone dropped from the palace tower. The muscles in my face move by habit, not ease—a mask I've worn countless times sliding into place. I force the corners of my mouth to lift, polite but not too warm—just enough. My voice rings hollow in my own ears as I shape it into something graceful, something imperial."You would like a dance?""Ah, um, if you don't mind? I mean, if it's not too much trouble." Pendwick steps forward, his face flushed—not just with color, but with a slick sheen, as though the very air around him burns hotter than the rest of the ballroom. His palm brushes his jacket's hem—then halts mid-motion as if caught in a forbidden act. He stiffens with a swallow that bobs visibly in his throat, eyes flicking once, nervously, to my hands."Of course he does, Ana!" Father bellows with a slap to Pendwick's back, the sound cracking through the air like summer thunder, drowning the mus

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