Return of the Rejected Luna
High above our heads, the rafters were hidden behind gold-threaded tapestries that unspooled the ancient history of the Blood Moon line: great white wolves with eyes of silver, tearing the throats from the southern kings, their woven blood dropping in neat, scarlet stitches onto a snow-white field.
The lead guard halted before a massive pair of double doors carved from black walnut, the grain twisted into the shapes of howling wolves. Two more sentries stood here, their spears crossed.
The guard to my left—a towering brute named Hokan, whose face was scarred—did not look at me when he spoke.
He kept his eyes fixed strictly on the floor. His jaw was clenched so hard the tendon in his cheek pu
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