All Chapters of The Luna's Groom: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

A U T H O R 'S POV]Eretrix, Dragon Shifter Colony.The grand throne room was awash in a luminous glow, thanks to the towering floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the brilliant daylight. Amidst this regal setting, a deep, resonant masculine laughter suddenly erupted from the hallway, causing the soldiers present to flinch involuntarily, their bodies tensing with uncertainty about what was to come. King Thomas Black, a man rarely known for his mirth, was known to only laugh in moments of rare amusement—and even then, the act was often smeared with blood, a testament to his ruthless nature and the scars of countless battles.“When Alpha Kai met me,” Thomas began, casting a sharp glance toward his council members—each of whom bore an expression that mirrored his own anger and frustration. They had warned him against forging an alliance with Clawford, a warning meant to serve as a cautionary tale, yet he had ignored it. As anticipated, the alliance had crumbled into failure, just as they

E L E A N O R “Hey,” Caspian greets softly as I step into the stable, the sound of his voice cutting through the quiet. He’s already there, carefully leading out two horses with the help of the caretaker, who moves with practiced ease. I didn’t realize how much this moment would matter until I was face to face with the horses. I’d vaguely thought my outfit today might give me some kind of confidence—just a hat, a pair of brown trousers, a white billowy-sleeved shirt, and sturdy boots. I’d looked at myself this morning and felt like a horseman, at least for a fleeting moment. It’s funny how a simple outfit can make you feel that way. The stable door is labeled “KAISER CLAWFORD’S HORSE STABLE,” and beneath that, a weathered wooden notice catches my eye. It’s a quote added by my uncle after his first visit from the human world: “A righteous man regards the life of his animal, but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.” Proverbs 12:10. I remember my father arguing briefly duri

A U T H OR’S P O V “Alpha, we have a lead,” the guard had urgently informed Perseus, his voice tense with a mixture of anticipation and caution. Without any hesitation, Perseus straightened up from his seat and followed the guard swiftly toward the back of the castle. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly as he moved, each step weighted with a sense of urgency. The guard, glancing over his shoulder, continued explaining in a quiet but firm tone, “We spotted someone at the back of the trees there,” he said, pointing toward a cluster of three tall, slender trees that stretched into the distant sky, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Beyond them, the forest loomed, dense and shadowed, separated from the castle grounds by a swiftly flowing river that snaked through the landscape, its waters filling the courtyard’s pond with a soft, constant ripple. Perseus’s eyes narrowed, his senses sharpening as he took in the scene. He looked deeply into the shadows cast by the trees,

A U T H O RMeanwhile, in Eretrix, Raphael paced restlessly back and forth across the length of his bedroom, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floors. His hands clenched into fists as he waited with a mixture of impatience and dread, hoping for some sign—any sign—that Perseus was mourning his wife and unborn child, that he felt the weight of his loss. But the news arrived, and it was neither good nor bad; it simply was.Across the room, near the flickering fireplace, Bernadette sat comfortably, her expression calm and composed, a gentle chuckle slipping from her lips as she listened to her step-children’s jokes. They played happily with their toys, unaware of the tension that hung in the air, their innocent voices filling the space with a semblance of normalcy.It irritated Raphael more than he cared to admit that she could remain so serene, especially with everything that had transpired. His father had condemned him again today—another scolding at breakfast, another

E L E A N O RI let out a long, exhausted sigh as I watch the nurse quietly leave the room after helping me wipe away the sweat that clings to Perseus's body. The sterile scent of disinfectant lingers in the air, and the quiet hum of the castle surrounds us. It’s been two days since we transferred his battered body back to Bloodthorn, a phase I’ve dreaded more than anything else. The very thought of losing him, or worse—what might happen if he doesn’t wake—haunts me constantly. I’ve given Jeremiah a temporary room here in the castle, so he can do regular check-up sessions, reassure me that Perseus remains unconscious but stable. Jeremiah keeps telling me that Perseus is just in a deep sleep, nothing more. Still, I can’t shake the gnawing feeling that it’s all a fragile illusion. Perseus is getting better, no doubt about it. The wounds are healing, his breathing is steady. But guilt gnaws at me like a persistent rat. The assassin, silent and unreadable, still hasn't spoken a word. Se