THE CURSED ALPHA’S STOLEN LUNA

Sierra

The glass burst inward in a shower of glittering shards, and the white wolf landed on the stone floor with a thud that rattled the silk against my skin. Frigid air from the balcony rolled across the chamber and bent the flames in the hearth sideways. I stumbled backward until the edge of the fur-draped bed pressed against my knees, and a thin, strangled sound escaped my throat.

Ansel moved faster than I could follow. One moment his hand had been sliding down my back, and the next he stood between me and the intruder with his shirt torn open and his fingers curled into claws. A low growl rolled out of his chest, and the temperature in the room dropped so sharply that frost crept across the shattered window frame.

The wolf did not attack. It staggered two steps forward, left a smear of blood across the flagstones, and then its body began to ripple. Bones slid and shortened beneath the pale fur, and the red glow in its eyes dimmed to a hard, tired amber. Within seconds, a man knelt among the broken glass, lean and rough-faced, with rust-colored hair and a scar slicing through his left eyebrow. He wore only torn black trousers, and a deep gash ran across his ribs, leaking steadily onto the floor.

"Put your claws away, Northern King, because I am the only reason your bride is still breathing," the stranger rasped, pressing a hand to his side.

Ansel did not lower his hands. "I know your face from the bounty boards, rogue, and I remember the price Ricosta placed on your head."

"Then you also know Ricosta is the reason I am bleeding on your floor." The man lifted his gaze to me, and something in his stare was so fierce and so familiar that my pulse stuttered. "My name is Red, and I have perhaps three minutes before the men outside decide this ritual has taken long enough."

I found my voice somewhere beneath my ribs. "I have never met you, so why would you risk your life to climb onto a balcony in a blizzard?"

"Because someone has to keep you alive until you understand what you are." He winced and swayed, and Ansel caught his shoulder with surprising speed to keep him from collapsing. "Listen carefully, both of you, because I will not be able to repeat any of this."

Red spoke in short, clipped bursts, as if every word cost him blood. The Council witnesses waiting beyond the door carried a censer of ceremonial incense, he explained, and Ricosta had spent two weeks lacing the resin with somnia root. A woman who breathed it would turn pliant and silent, unable to say whether she consented to anything at all. The elders would then declare the union forced, void under Northern law, and Ansel would stand exposed as a kidnapper who had dragged a sold girl into his bed.

"Under the old statutes, a false Luna is executed in the courtyard at dawn," Red finished. "Your brother does not need to kill you with his own hands, Sierra, because the law will do his killing for him."

The words slid down my spine like melting ice. I stared at Ansel, searching his face for surprise, and found only a muscle ticking in his jaw. He had already guessed, I realized, and the knowledge made me feel colder than the broken window ever could.

"You knew about the incense," I whispered.

"I suspected my brother would try something cruel." Ansel kept his eyes on Red. "I did not know he had found a way to turn the Council's own traditions into a noose."

Red let out a harsh breath that was almost a laugh. "There is more, and you will like it even less." He turned back to me, and his voice dropped until it was barely louder than the crackling fire. "I know what your mother was called before she hid behind a stolen name, and I know why she ran from the Vanguard in the dead of night."

The room tilted sharply around me, and my hand shot out and found the bedpost, and my fingernails dug into the carved wood hard enough to splinter it. "My mother left because she could not bear the abuse in that house, and she never told me anything else."

"She told you exactly what she needed you to believe." Red's amber eyes flicked to my neck, to the pale scar where Santiago's mark should have lived. "And that scar is not as dead as the Southern Alpha wants you to think, little one."

"What does that even mean?" I demanded, though my fingers had already drifted up to touch the ruined skin.

A thunderous pounding exploded against the oak door. All three of us flinched, and Ansel swore under his breath in a language I did not recognize.

"My lord Ansel," called a smooth, sugar-sweet voice from the corridor, and I felt my stomach turn over, because I had heard that voice mocking me at the gates only hours earlier. "Forgive the interruption, but the Council grows restless, and we have brought the blessing of the hearth to speed the ritual along."

"Ricosta," Ansel murmured, so softly that only Red and I could hear. "He could not even wait one hour."

"Hide me," Red whispered. "Put me anywhere, because if he finds me here, he will say you conspired with a wanted rebel, and that alone would justify a coup."

I should have hesitated, because trust had always been the most dangerous thing I owned. Instead, my body moved before my mind could argue, and I grabbed the heavy fur curtain that draped the balcony doorway and hauled it aside. Red slipped through the gap and vanished into the darkness, leaving only a few drops of blood glistening beside my bare feet.

"Sierra, the blood," Ansel hissed.

I dropped to my knees and dragged the hem of my gown across the stones, smearing the crimson into the white silk until it looked like nothing more than a careless stain. My hands shook so badly that I tore a small hole in the fabric, but the evidence disappeared beneath the shadows of the bed.

"Open this door immediately," Ricosta called again, and the sweetness in his voice curdled into something thin and sharp. "Or I shall assume my brother is struggling to perform his duty, and I will gladly send in the elders to assist."

A cruel laugh rippled through the men gathered behind him. Heat flooded my cheeks, partly from humiliation and partly from a rage so sudden that it startled me. I rose slowly and pressed my palms against the silk over my racing heart.

"Whatever happens next, you follow my lead," Ansel said in a low, steady voice. His eyes met mine, and for one fragile moment I saw no king, no curse, and no cold bargain in them at all. "Do you understand me, Sierra?"

"I understand that I am the only person in this castle who has no allies," I answered, and my voice came out steadier than I felt. "So I will follow your lead for exactly as long as you earn it."

The corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest, grimmest smile. Then he strode to the door and turned the iron latch.

The corridor beyond was alive with torchlight and grey robes. Ricosta stood at the front with his rat-sharp face arranged into polite concern, and behind him two elders carried a silver censer on a long chain. Sweet, heavy smoke curled from its perforated lid, and the scent hit me like a hand clamped over my mouth. It smelled of honey, of crushed lilies, and of something beneath those things, something bitter and green that made my tongue go numb.

"Brother," Ricosta said brightly, and his gaze slid past Ansel to land on me. "We heard a crash, and we feared you might be in some danger."

"A window latch failed in the wind," Ansel replied evenly. "Nothing worth your concern."

"How wonderfully convenient for you both." Ricosta stepped forward, and the elders followed with the censer swinging between them. Smoke spilt into the chamber in a slow, creeping wave. "Then you will not object if we begin the blessing right now, in the presence of every witness."

I drew one breath before I could stop myself, and the world began to soften around its edges. My knees sagged beneath my own weight, and the hearth fire smeared into long golden ribbons, and the pounding of my heart slowed to a lazy, distant drum. Somewhere far away, Ricosta's smile widened, and I heard Ansel say my name as though he were calling across a frozen lake.