Todos los capítulos de Bound by the Cursed Moon: Capítulo 321 - Capítulo 330

Point of View: Kieran Ashveil"You let a Vaelwood and a stranger from beyond the treaty lines close a binding without a single council vote," said Councilor Bram Ostry, and the silence that followed his words felt heavier than anything I had carried out of that clearing.We had been home only two days, and already the great hall smelled less like celebration and more like a courtroom, benches filled with pack members who had come to hear what had happened at the fourth site and stayed to watch something colder unfold instead. Elara sat at my left with her spine perfectly straight, the same composure she had worn since she first walked into my father's court as a rival's daughter, and I was grateful, not for the first time, that she had chosen to stand with us rather than simply near us."There was no time for a vote," I said, keeping my voice level though my temper wanted otherwise. "There was a splinter faction attempting to force a binding onto a member of this pack. Dorian is not a

Point of View: Kieran Ashveil"I do not know how to help her carry something I cannot even see," I said quietly, and Dorian, sharpening his blade across the fire from me, did not look up right away, which told me he understood exactly what I meant.The training yard had emptied hours ago, the rest of the pack finally asleep, but I had found I could not make myself go inside, not while Rhen sat somewhere in our rooms turning over whatever the fourth site had taken from her. I had checked on her twice already. Both times she had smiled at me in a way that did not reach her eyes and told me she only needed a little more quiet. The third time, I had made myself stay away, though every instinct in me had argued otherwise, because I was beginning to learn that some kinds of quiet needed to be respected rather than interrupted, even by someone who loved her as much as I did.I had found Dorian here instead, sitting alone with his blade and his thoughts, and something about the shape of his s

Point of View: Kieran Ashveil"You will not like what I am about to tell you," Rhen's mother said the moment we stepped into her cottage, and I understood immediately, watching her hands twist in her lap, that she had been waiting years, perhaps decades, for someone to finally ask her the right question.Rhen sat rigid beside me, Wren's borrowed journal resting closed on her lap like something that might bite her if she opened it again too soon, and I kept my arms crossed near the door, doing my best impression of patience while every instinct in me wanted to close the distance and stand closer to her instead. The cottage was small and warm, filled with the smell of drying herbs and old wood smoke, ordinary in every way except for the woman across from us, whose hands would not stop moving, smoothing the same fold of her skirt over and over as though the motion alone might keep the next thirty seconds from arriving."Say it anyway," Rhen said. "Please, Mother. I am done being protecte

Point of View: Kieran Ashveil"Something is wrong, and I do not care that I cannot prove it to you with anything the council will accept as evidence," I said, and Elara, seated across the war table from me, set down her pen slowly, studying my face the way she studied every difficult truth before deciding how to handle it.Three days had passed since Rhen walked through the gate, three short, careful messages arriving each evening exactly as promised, one line apiece, enough to know she was breathing and little else. Tonight, no message had come at all, and somewhere behind my ribs, the mate pull that had marked me the very first night I met her at the border kennels had gone suddenly, sharply taut, like a rope pulled tight enough to hum. I had spent the last hour pacing the length of the war table, unable to sit, unable to focus on the reports piled in front of me, every attempt at council business dissolving into the same single, insistent thought looping through my mind."You have

Point of View: Kieran Ashveil"Someone is standing in the center of that field, and I have never in my life run toward anything as hard as I am about to run toward her," I said to no one, breath tearing in my chest, as I broke from the treeline just as pale dawn light spilled over a meadow ringed by twisted, watching oaks.I had ridden through the last of the night without stopping, the pull in my chest sharpening with every mile until it became something closer to a compass than a feeling, and now, finally, I could see them, small figures gathered at the meadow's edge, and beyond them, a lone woman standing perfectly still in the center of the bent grass. My legs nearly buckled beneath me as I closed the last stretch of distance, exhaustion finally catching up to a body that had been running on pure instinct since midnight, but I forced myself forward anyway, because stopping now, this close, felt like a kind of betrayal I could not afford to commit.Farris reined in behind me, breat