All Chapters of His Omega Luna : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Lyra’s POVI didn’t sleep again after that. My body lay still, but my mind raced endlessly.‘You shouldn’t have found it.’ I thought to myself.‘Found what, exactly?’ ‘The crest, or the truth it represented?’Suzanne’s return was too convenient, too measured. And the crest—what was it doing under her bed, if she hadn't been in possession of it?I kept rolling over her words in my head.“Oh! Everyone is asleep. They make it so easy.”What did we make so easy for her?I did not remember when I slept off but I know the morning came slowly. I watched the beams of sunlight creep across the window before I stood up from bed. Suzanne was already up, her sheets neatly arranged like they hadn’t been used at all. Her hair was tied in the same auburn bun she always wore, neat and deceivingly innocent.I stared daggers at her, the anger I felt almost palpable. To think that I had treated her like a sister, taking her under my wings.I glanced at Saana’s bed. She was still sound asleep. She was

Lyra’s POVThe palace was louder than usual. Not with noise, but with a kind of chaotic quiet—the kind that settled after a glass shattered, and everyone waited to see who would clean it up.I was coming back from the kitchen corridor when I saw Anya.She didn’t see me—not at first. She was near the back courtyard, close to the herb gate. Only senior staff and ranked visitors used that entrance.The sun was behind her, casting her silhouette against the gravel. She leaned toward a man I didn’t recognize. Tall. Pale blue coat. The silver cuff on his wrist gave him away—a noble messenger. Not palace-born, not one of us.Their conversation was hushed, the kind that meant it important. I pressed into the nook by the kitchen’s side door and watched.The man handed her something, quickly, as though burning to be rid of it. Anya took it with gloved fingers, careful and rehearsed. I waited for a name, a word, anything. But they spoke in glances.Then, as if sensing my gaze, Anya turned.Our e

Lyra’s POVThe kitchens were louder than usual that morning, but not with conversation—just noise. I stood near the roster board, feigning interest in the new routine allocations, while my eyes scanned the list taped beside it.And then I saw it.Saana's name had been scratched out.Not erased—scratched. With a knife, or a pin, or perhaps a nail.Her name, which had previously been placed between Brad's and Cecily’s on the day shift, was gone. A jagged blank space in its place.It was deliberate.I stared at it for a long time. Long enough to draw attention if someone cared to watch. Someone did."You're blocking the way," came a voice behind me.I stepped aside before I saw her. But I knew it was her. Anya brushed past me, her hips barely brushing mine, and when she turned her head, her eyes found mine without effort.She smiled. A slow, smug, deliberate smirk. Nothing too grand, just enough to slice. She didn't say anything more. She didn’t need to. She walked away, footsteps soft,

Lyra’s POVThe palace had a way of swallowing sound when it wanted to. Even on a night like this, there was still that hush—a strange quiet that sat beneath everything, like breath held too long.I stood near the eastern passageway, watching groups of court women glide past in layers of silk, their movement marked by exaggerated obedience. Laughter tinkled like broken bells. The banquet hall had been transformed into a fantasy—golden edges, handpicked roses, the scent of slow-roasted meats lingering just beneath the incense smoke.It should have felt celebratory. But all I could think about was Saana.And Suzanne—she was at the center of it tonight, shining in a lilac dress that didn’t suit her but made her stand out. Lady Seraphina took her hand as if she was some prized servant plucked from obscurity, and whispered something to her loud enough for a few to hear.“A reward,” she announced with a huge smile. “A token for those who preserve the palace's harmony.”Harmony. The word r

Lyra’s POVFreya had been taken out of the castle at the crack of dawn. A certain sadness weighed heavily over me, and I couldn't understand it. I had lay still in bed since, unable to close my eyes for fear of what might befall me.Then came the knock at the door. I hesitated to respond, and then it slipped under the door.“For Miss Lyra," a guard's voice called rather ceremoniously.I peeled myself off my bed and went to pick the letter up.It had the seal of the High Council pressed firm and dry like it had been waiting all night. My heart pounded uneasily in my chest, causing me pain. My hands trembled as I tried to imagine the contents of the letter.Why the council? I washed my face. I braided my hair. I put on a clean garment, and waited till the guard returned for me. The walk was silent; I was so consumed in my own thoughts that I barely saw the hallway as we went.The council chamber was colder than usual. The curtains were drawn back, letting too much light in. I stepped