All Chapters of The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Narine My hands were still shaking. Even after everything, even after he had chosen me, and I had stood in front of the realm with my mask finally lowered and nothing left to hide, my hands still wouldn't still. My fingers trembled in my lap, light as leaves caught in the wind. No matter how tightly I laced them together, they refused to stay still. The echoes of the cheers had faded, but their weight still clung to my skin. The moment was over, and yet it wasn't. Not for me. I sat as gracefully as I could manage, though my body felt like it belonged to someone else entirely. My spine remained straight, but inside, I was all frayed edges and spiraling breath. I lifted my eyes, searching for something to focus on. The chandeliers overhead shimmered with a thousand small flames, each flickering in place like stars held captive. I let my gaze skim over the crowd, the sea of faces I couldn't bear to truly see. Attendants moved behind the pillars like shadows. One of them dropped a ri

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rose with a soft groan, stretching my limbs until I felt that satisfying ripple of tension ease from my shoulders. A loud yawn tore free before I could stifle it, and I didn't even bother trying to sound graceful. To be perfectly honest with myself, nothing, absolutely nothing, beats a good night's rest on a soft bed. I padded toward the bathroom, my bare feet sinking lightly into the warm rug. Behind me, I heard the faint rustle of footsteps and turned slightly, knitting my eyebrow as I caught sight of Mierelle following in measured steps. Why is she still following me? I frowned, glancing over my shoulder again as I reached the bathroom door. I paused, resting one hand on the gold-dusted handle. She paused, too. I turned toward her fully, adjusting the robe around my waist as a slow,

The door whispered shut behind us with a soft click, sealing away the solitude of my room. Mierelle and I stepped out into the corridor, and the plush runner beneath our feet swallowed every sound, muffling our steps. Morning light slanted in through the tall cathedral windows that lined the hallway, casting golden beams across the tiled floor and gilded paneling. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, suspended midair like stars caught in amber. Mierelle moved ahead. I followed a half-step behind. I smoothed my hands nervously over the soft folds of my gown. The scent of freshly waxed citruswood curled faintly in the air, laced with the subtler sweetness of garden roses, likely drifting in from some unseen inner courtyard. I let my senses stretch around me, absorbing the familiarity of it all. I heard it before I saw it. Two figures stepped out from separate suites almost in sync.

Clothed in a blinding, teal gown that shimmered like dragon scales, each step she took sent the fabric rippling with aggressive opulence. It sparkled as if it belonged to a ballroom drenched in moonlight, not a quiet royal breakfast. And yet, here it was, and so was she. Her ridiculously high heels clicked in rhythm. And she tilted her chin with contempt. And her eyes. They swept across the table with slow disdain, pausing on each of us like we were nothing more than statues in a gallery she found underwhelming. Some of the girls turned instinctively. A few blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity. Liora whispered, "Good Lord," just under her breath. Then. She clapped. Twice. Slowly and Sardonically. The sound cracked through the solarium like a whip. Her attendant, narrow-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and visibly trembling, rushed forward. She yanked out the second head chair at th

Narine was the melody my thoughts kept returning to. The one I hadn't stopped hearing since the moment I saw her masked face tilt up toward mine again last night. Since her scent wound itself back into my skin like it had never left. The elevator continued its slow descent, each floor tick-tick-ticking away with agonizing leisure. And then, just as I leaned back, adjusting my cufflink to keep my hands busy, I caught.... Lupercus. That familiar, rough scent of pine ash and burnt sage, always a half-second too loud to ignore. And flanking it. Tyrus. Varn. I stiffened. My stomach turned slightly as I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Councilmen. Of course. I should have