Erasing the Luna
She remembered standing there beside Maddox after their public mating ceremony, remembered the pack pressing close to offer blessings, remembered his hand warm at her back while he leaned down and whispered that if one more elder praised her breeding potential, he would start a war before dessert.
Her fingers curled against her skirt.
“He did not tell me,” she said.
Lysa’s face crumpled with sympathy before she caught herself. “I’m sorry.”
The words were too soft, too human, too close to the woman who had once cried over a feverish child.
Rhea looked at her.
Lysa lowered her head quickly. “I should go.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
The maid paused at the door, then left without another word.