Semua Bab Queen Luna: Once Rejected, Now Ruthless: Bab 41 - Bab 50

“You’re serious,” I whispered.“I always am,” he replied, fluffing his tail in a very un-serious way. “I just happen to be stylish about it.”Edric chuckled softly, but there was no humor behind it. We all felt it. The shift. The weight of something bigger looming ahead.Mr. Yellow turned and hopped onto the table with the elegance of a noble. He paced slowly, then paused. “It’s time I consider calling for backup.”“Backup?” I echoed. “Wait… you mean—”“Yes.” He closed his eyes. “Them.”“No,” Edric said immediately, eyes narrowing. “Not them.”“Yes them,” Mr. Yellow shot back. “They’re annoying, unpredictable, and loud, but they’re loyal. And powerful. And she’ll need them.”I blinked. “You mean… the vegetables?”He no

KYLA POVThat evening at the rose garden balcony.“Your highness,” Kala began, setting down a gilded cup of ancient blood-infused coffee that smelled like cocoa and thunderstorms, “you are barely using twenty percent of your true power.”I blinked at her. My legs were tucked beneath me on the plush velvet couch in the east tower library, where the walls were lined with ancient books and the air always smelled faintly of lavender and secrets. I had lipstick smeared on one napkin, coffee on another, and about six half-eaten cookies stacked on a saucer Mr. Yellow had claimed for his royal sassy self.“Twenty percent?” I frowned, wiping a bit of crumb from my lip. “I just burned down half the war chamber with my flame wall and drained an actual lake with my water magic. Edric said my magic was already 80%. Are you telling me there’s more?”Kala, ancient vampire librarian with the fashion sense of a dark academia goddess and the facial expressions of a sarcastic auntie, crossed her legs an

His forehead pressed against mine as he moved, sweat forming between our bodies. I kissed him—softly, then harder. My legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, needing more. Not faster. Not wilder. Just more of him. His hands never stopped touching me—stroking, cradling, worshipping me like a prayer he never thought would be answered.And I gave myself to him completely.Every cry. Every kiss. Every trembling breath.We came together like we were the only two left in the world. And when I unraveled beneath him, I felt like I was being reborn—shattered and remade, tethered to him by love and magic and destiny.Edric held me tight afterward, burying his face in my neck. “I’m never letting you go,” he said hoarsely.“You don’t have to,” I whispered, curling into him, heart full and body humming with heat. “I’m yours.”The prophecy could wait. The war. The crown. The world.Right now, in this bed, wrapped in his warmth and the quiet promise of forever, I was just Kyla.Loved.Ali

EDRIC’S POV“My brothers,” I began, voice deep, commanding, heavy with the weight of what we had all witnessed, “we are under siege—not by one enemy, but by many. Some wear faces we once called kin.”“Where were your guards, Edric?” growled Alpha Tarran of the Icefangs, slamming his fist on the table. “Three dozen dead. Roasted like pigs by flame magic. A village near the border razed to ash. We smelled it from the cliffs!”“They never had a chance,” murmured Alpha Linna of the Nightshade Pack, eyes dim. “The witches attacked from inside the shadows—our sentries never saw them coming.”“Florence’s coven has grown bolder,” I said. “And now... she is no longer working alone.”At that, the alphas murmured. I slammed my fist into the oak table hard enough for runes to shimmer on its surface.“They’ve allied with Aldrian, former beta of Windsor Pack.”The hall erupted. A chorus of snarls, growls, curses in old wolf tongue.“That cursed bastard was stripped of his title—”“He’s no beta, not

The loud, sassy, absolutely incorrigible ones who apparently had taken it upon themselves to school me in the fine art of earth magic—my weakest affinity.“Okay, first of all,” said Beet, who wore a monocle made of glass beads, “you’re doing it wrong. Earth magic isn’t about force. It’s about feel. You can’t just stomp your foot and expect a mountain to obey you.”“Unless you’re dramatic,” added Greg the potato, puffing his tiny chest out. “Which I support, by the way.”“Your energy is too sky-oriented,” said a tomato with a voice like an old librarian. “Floaty. Flighty. We love that for you, but roots need grounding. Commitment. Patience.”“Oh gods, she’s a leaf-chaser,” muttered Parsnip, tossing her sprouty hair.“She kisses like fire and rain, but can’t even crack a pebble,” Carrot announced dramatically from her leafy throne on a mushroom stool. “Tragic. Really. Still no baby, too.”“I swear to the moon, Carrot—” I growled.She sipped her rose petal tea like a queen. “I’m just say