Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE REJECTED WHITE LUNA: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

It had been four days since Lois had walked away from Liana in the corridor. She sat in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a cup of cold tea. The morning meal was over. Only Gretta remained at the hearth, stirring a pot of stew with slow, deliberate strokes. She hadn't said anything about Lois. But her silence was louder than words. The door creaked open. Liana didn't look up. She knew his scent before she heard his footsteps. Leather and pine and the sharp edge of regret. "Liana." She didn't turn. "Good day, Beta." "Liana." He crossed the room slowly, like a man approaching a wounded animal. "I've been trying to find the words. There aren't any good ones." "You should have said something, anything. It is better than silence." He stopped behind her. His hands hung at his sides. Rufus was whimpering in his chest—had been whimpering for days. "I was wrong," Lois said. His voice was rough. "The scent. I should have asked. I should have listened. Instead, I let my wolf snarl at

The training yard was cold and freezing. Aria took her place at the far end. The warriors were already paired off, their staffs cracking against each other in the morning air. Nyssa was stretching near the equipment rack. But today would be different, Aria would not be sparring with her with them at all.” Rowan stood before her, his arms crossed, his golden eyes calm. "You're pregnant and your body is changing. Brute force is no longer your advantage." "Then what is?" "Strategy." He gestured toward the training yard. "You've spent months learning how to fight. Now you're going to learn how to think, positioning and time. How to use an opponent's strength against them.“ Aria pressed her palm against her stomach. It was still flat, but she felt it now, a constant, quiet presence. "I don't want to stop training entirely." "I'm not asking you to." Rowan stepped closer. "I'm asking you to adapt. Nova is awake now. She can help you read opponents before they move. Between her

Selene summoned Lina at midnight. She walked through the dark corridors of the west wing with her heart pressed against her rib cage. “The luna request your presence in her chamber now, ma’am Lina.” “Okay.” She stood up and walked out of her room. The door to Selene's chambers was slightly open. Lina pushed through and closed it behind her. The room was warm, lit by a dozen candles that flickered in their sconces. Selene stood at the window, her back to the door, her silhouette sharp against the dark glass. "You’re here." "Yes, Luna." Selene turned. She was dressed in a gown of crimson red, the silver clasp at her throat. Her hair was perfectly pinned. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, but her smile was as cold and steady as ever. "I have news concerning, our dear Aria. She is alive." Lina's stomach dropped. "Alive, where?" "Mooncrest. The northern mountains. She's been taken in by Alpha Rowan." Selene's voice was casual, as if discussing the weather. "He's

Aria was in the great hall, a cup of tea warming her hands, when the young warrior burst through the doors. His tunic was torn. His face was streaked with dirt. He had run through the night to deliver his report, and the words came out in a single breathless rush. "Alpha. There’s an unusual rogue activity near the northern border. Multiple camps spotted in the last two days. They're not attacking, just watching. Seems like they’re mapping the terrain." Rowan was on his feet before the scout finished speaking. "How many?" "Hard to say. They're spread out, but they're organized. Someone's coordinating them." The great hall went quiet. Aria set down her cup, her hand moving instinctively to the small swell of her stomach. Beneath her skin, Nova stirred. The wolf had been restless all morning—pacing, agitated, pressing against the edges of Aria's consciousness like a caged animal. “Something's wrong,” Nova murmured. “The rogues?” “I don't know. But I feel it. I can't see it clearl

A rogue was captured during patrol. Lois had led the patrol himself, a small team of five warriors who had tracked a lone figure through the northern pass. The rogue had fought hard, but he was outnumbered and underfed. By the time they dragged him through the gates, he was bleeding from a gash on his temple and cursing in a language no one recognized. Rowan conducted the interrogation himself, in a cell beneath the east wing. The rogue was gaunt and wild eyed, his clothes little more than rags. He sat shackled to a chair, his lip curled in defiance. Lois stood by the door, his scarred face unreadable. "Who sent you?" Rowan asked. He didn’t answer. "You're part of the camps on the northern border. We've been tracking you for weeks. Who's coordinating them?" The rogue laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. "You think I'll tell you? You'll kill me anyway." "I'll kill you faster if you don't." The rogue studied Rowan's face. Whatever he saw there made his defiance waver