บททั้งหมดของ Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

6 a.m., and I’m already on my feet.The stone floor is cold in the room, dust sits beneath the edge of the rug—tiny triangle in the pattern. I must have missed it during last night’s cleaning. I open the window two finger-widths, count to forty, close it again. At the threshold, the guard shift changes as usual; the order of the clicks sounds like a drum solo: bolt, latch, buckle. The guard on the right is new—half a head shorter, but his posture is good. A nod, no words.Nyra is still asleep. Lying on her side, blanket to her waist, hand on the pillow. Her breathing is steady, no glistening sweat on her forehead—good. Kael is in the cradle, the cloth strap tied to the rail unmoving. I lay my hand on it, give it three long arcs, slow and steady. The baby stirs only on the second: a small, half-sound, then stillness again. Selin is in the next room with the nurse; I won’t bring her in right away today. First, I’ll get things in order outside.The chainmail rests on the chair. The shoul

According to the calendar, the Moon is three days from being full. For us, that means: the children are faster, more alert, sleep windows are shorter. I rewrote today’s plan at dawn: less stimulus, more silence, closed circle for training, rune assessment at noon, “safety mode” for the evening.By six, I’m already in the inner courtyard. The straw track covered with canvas is dry, the rope circle is taut. I run my hands along the knots. We had the brace under the bench replaced yesterday; it no longer wobbles. The bar is low, polished, held by two pillars. By the wall, Cassian and two men are checking the grates. One wing screw was a little loose; I point it out, they tighten it. No decoration, no flag, no audience. This isn’t a circus—it’s a workspace.On the way back, I stop by the kitchen: the brew’s ratio has changed since yesterday. Mae asked for more protein, less spice. The cook has already adjusted it. The nursemaid’s tray is ready—two glasses of water, two small cups of dilut

The day started slowly, but the air was strange from the morning on. Heavy, sharp—like even the stone walls were sweating. The Moon was still in its waxing phase, and the runes on the eastern edge had been glowing faintly since the night, as if something outside was pounding against them.Cassian was already waiting in the courtyard when I stepped out.“Something’s wrong with the runes,” he said instead of a greeting. “It’s not an attack, just… movement.”“By themselves?” I asked, pulling on my leather gloves.“More like something pressing on them from the inside.” He crouched and scratched a line into the dust. “The vibration isn’t coming from outside. It’s coming from below.”I didn’t like what I heard. Beneath the foundations of the house, several old passages ran—some sealed, others protected by magic. If there was movement in one of them, it wasn’t good news.“Call Rhaell from the rune chamber. I want to see it.”Cassian nodded and disappeared.Kneeling by the wall, I touched the

The room is half-lit, thin bands of moonlight slipping in through the gaps in the curtains. The silence isn’t empty: it holds the nurse’s soft steps at the end of the corridor, the heat-holding rumble of the stone beneath the fireplace, and Aedan’s steady breathing by the door. He leans against the frame and watches. It’s the kind of attention that carries no command, only a question: “are you ready?”“It’s been a long time since it was just the two of us,” I say before we slide back into old habits. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t matter. It does. Over the past months my body has filled with memory: lullings to sleep, night terrors, alarms, courier signals, the buzz of runes. Somewhere along the way, our shared quiet wore thin.Aedan nods. He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Far too long,” he replies. “I’ve missed you like this. Not as a queen, not as a mother, not as the light of the house. You. The woman I love.”A warm swell moves in my stomach. I step to him. I’m wearing no finery, only

The morning is as clean as a freshly washed blade: cold, precise, gleaming along its edge.The fortress is still half-asleep, but the rhythm of the inner guard has already settled—bolt, clasp, shift.From the kitchen rises the scent of warmed water, the stone beneath my feet is dry, and the eastern signal-stone does not chime.That last part is the kind of gift one doesn’t celebrate—only acknowledges.Nyra steps out of the nursery, her hair tied back beneath a shawl draped over her shoulder.Her gaze is clear, her face ready for work. That’s a good sign; the night’s silence didn’t carry her away, nor did dawn’s worries tear her apart.“Selin ate, Kael only sipped,” she says first. “There was quiet. No ‘pull’ in the air.”“Good.” I stop at the threshold. “I’m holding council this morning. There’s movement beyond the wall—two houses request an ‘unnoticed’ inspection.” The courier parchment rests in my hand. “The answer: no inspection. Closed house.”Nyra nods. “Mae’s measurements with m