The Luna's Groom
My fingers, though trembling, clutch the folds tightly.
“I sure hope she doesn't die,” a maid whispers, the shuffling of blankets indicating she’s packing up the one used to cover me.
“Well, I hope she does. Dolores is meant to be Luna—an actual Lycan, not a werewolf. We didn’t lose our brothers and fathers at war just to submit to those we’re supposed to subdue, Anna,” another voice scoffs with indifference.
“Floria, I don’t think she wants to be Luna anyway. You saw the way she attacked the King. It’s almost like she didn’t sign up for this either,” Anna whispers, slipping a pair of socks onto my feet.
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