All Chapters of Hiding His Heir: The Rejected Luna’s Return: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The Blackwood Keep was a hive of frantic activity, though the hum was no longer one of war. The "Great Restoration" required more than just stone and mortar; it required the re-establishment of alliances. To celebrate the sovereignty of the Shadow Queen and the formal recognition of the Northern Alliance, Lyra had decreed a Grand Gala.For Silas Blackwood, the event felt less like a celebration and more like a public execution of his dignity. He stood in his spartan quarters in the North Tower, staring at a formal tunic of charcoal wool. It was a far cry from the gold-embroidered silks he used to wear. His hands, calloused from weeks of manual labor and scarred by divine fire, fumbled with the silver fastenings.He could hear the arrival of Julian’s entourage from across the bridge. The Arctic Alpha didn't do anything quietly. The scent of pine and high-altitude ozone drifted through the windows, accompanied by the low, confident laughter of men who hadn't lost the

The second half of the gala was a theater of unspoken challenges. Silas had returned to the hall, unable to stay away, but he remained near the perimeter, a dark silhouette against the glowing walls. He watched as Julian of the Arctic continued to dominate Lyra’s time, guiding her through the intricate Northern folk dances with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.The air in the hall grew heavy. It wasn't the scent of jasmine this time; it was the sharp, metallic tang of two Alphas’ auras clashing. Julian’s frost-magic was cooling the room, while Silas’s gold-and-shadow energy was creating a low-frequency hum that made the silver-lilies in the vases tremble."The tension is becoming a liability, Queen," Nyx whispered into Lyra’s ear as she finished a dance with an Arctic general.Lyra looked at the two men. She saw Julian, bright and supportive, his amber eyes full of a promising future. And she saw Silas, dark and broken, his stormy gray eyes full of

The archives of the North Tower were a labyrinth of dusty parchment, ancient scrolls, and the heavy, metallic scent of silver-laced ink. Silas had spent the last twenty-four hours buried in the medical records of the Thorne family. He was looking for a pattern, a clue that would explain the "weakness" that had defined Lyra’s youth.He found it in a leather-bound ledger from eighteen years ago—the year Lyra was born.The entry was written in his father’s handwriting, the ink jagged and frantic. Subject: L. Thorne. Condition: Star-Born Manifestation. Recommendation: Permanent Suppression. Dosage: 0.5mg Liquid Silver daily.Silas felt a wave of nausea so intense he had to lean against the shelf."Star-Born Manifestation," Silas whispered, his voice shaking.He turned the pages, his eyes scanning the daily logs. For eighteen years, his father and Lyra’s father had conspired to poison her. Every meal she had eaten in the kitchen, every glass o

The corridor leading from the archives felt like the throat of a beast. Silas moved through the darkness, the ledger held against his chest as if it could shield him from the cold reality of its contents. Every flicker of the torches on the wall seemed to reveal a new layer of the deception that had defined his life.He didn't go to the Great Hall where the Council’s emissaries were currently demanding an audience. He went to the South Wing, to the small, sun-drenched library where Lyra spent her hours obsessing over the maps of the North. He needed to see her. He needed to look into those sapphire eyes and see if he could find the girl who had survived the silver-fog.He burst into the room without knocking.Lyra was standing by the central table, a magnifying glass in her hand, her long black hair tied back in a lethal, professional braid. She looked up, her expression cooling instantly into the mask of the Ghost Raven.“The Council is at the ga

The sun was a ghost behind the thick, violet clouds of the Silver Peaks, casting a cold, gray light over the training grounds of the Blackwood Keep. In the center of the arena, under the watchful, lethal eyes of a thousand Shadow Claws and the remaining pack warriors, the high-ranking traitors were being assembled.Silas Blackwood stood on the dais, his gold-and-sapphire skin glowing like a steady, rhythmic beacon. Beside him, Lyra was a pillar of shadow and starlight, her sapphire eyes fixed on the man who had disowned her eighteen years ago.Silas Thorne was brought forward in chains of shadow-glass. He didn't look like a Lead Warrior or a former Alpha. He looked like an old man whose skin had finally begun to sag under the weight of his own lies. Behind him stood Alpha Vance, his face a mask of arrogant defiance that was rapidly cracking.“The Lunar High Council is listening,” Lyra announced, her voice magically amplified to carry across the valley. “Th