The Luna's Wrath

"Your evening draught, Luna."

Mara’s voice trembled. She extended a steaming clay bowl, keeping her gaze pinned to the floorboards.

I took the vessel. My heavy, swollen belly pressed uncomfortably against the silk nightgown. A sweet, unfamiliar floral scent cut through the usual bitter herbs. My stomach tightened.

"What did the healers put in this tonight?" I asked.

Mara shrank back. "Just... just the usual root extracts for your strength."

I looked across the dimly lit bedchamber. Darian sat by the arched window, tracing lines across a spread of territory maps. My father's maps.

"Darian," I called out.

He didn't turn his head. His finger tapped against a marked valley. "Drink it before it gets cold."

"The scent is wrong," I pushed, keeping my eyes on his broad shoulders. "It smells sweet. Like oleander."

"The healers adjusted the dosage," he replied. His voice held all the warmth of a frozen lake. "You are in your final month. The pup needs strength."

"Does he?" I challenged.

"Do not start an argument over medicine, Elvira. Drink."

He finally flipped a parchment page. He never even glanced at me.

I stared at the dark liquid. A strange laugh bubbled up my throat. I smiled, a hollow, mocking expression that felt entirely out of place in the quiet room. If he wanted me to drink his healers' brew, I would. I lifted the rim to my lips and swallowed the foul liquid in three large gulps.

"Done," I said, slamming the bowl onto the wooden nightstand.

Mara snatched the empty clay dish and scurried out the door. Darian kept reading.

Less than an hour later, the pain hit.

It didn't start as a dull ache. It struck like a broadsword slicing through my center.

"Ah!" I cried out, doubling over.

Warm wetness soaked my thighs. I threw the heavy furs aside. A horrific pool of crimson stained the white sheets.

"Mara!" I screamed.

The door banged open. The maid took one look at the blood and shrieked.

"Fetch the midwives!" I ordered, clutching my stomach. "Now!"

Chaos erupted. Three older women rushed into the chamber, carrying basins and linens. The metallic smell of fresh blood choked the room.

"She is hemorrhaging!" the head midwife yelled, tossing a stack of towels between my legs. "Apply pressure!"

"The pup is coming too fast!" another shouted.

"Save the child," a guard barked from the hallway.

"Push, Luna!" the head midwife commanded. "You must push, or you both die!"

I gripped the wooden bedposts. My knuckles turned white. I pushed until black spots danced across my vision.

"More towels! She’s losing too much!"

"I can see the head!"

"Again, Luna! Scream if you have to, just push!"

I didn't scream. I clamped my teeth together until I tasted copper. I drove every ounce of my remaining strength downward.

A sharp, piercing cry echoed off the stone walls.

The pressure vanished. My head fell back against the soaked pillows.

"A boy," the head midwife announced. She held up a squalling, blood-slicked infant.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the floorboards. The crowd of servants parted instantly.

Darian stepped into the room. He wore his formal armor, completely out of place in a birthing chamber. His golden eyes swept past my pale face, past the ruined, blood-soaked bed, and locked onto the crying bundle.

"Bring him here," Darian ordered.

The midwife hastily wrapped the baby in a clean cloth and presented him to the Alpha.

Darian peered into the folds of the fabric. He didn't smile. He didn't reach out to touch his son.

"It's an heir," he stated.

He turned on his heel.

"Darian," I rasped. My throat felt like shattered glass.

He paused at the threshold.

"Let me hold him," I begged.

"Clean the room," Darian instructed the staff, ignoring me entirely. "Ensure the boy is fed."

The heavy oak door shut behind him.

Night swallowed the castle. Fire raged through my veins.

My skin burned to the touch, yet violent shivers wracked my spine. I drifted in a dark void, too weak to open my eyes.

The heavy door groaned on its iron hinges.

Footsteps padded softly across the stone floor. Two sets.

"Is she awake?" a woman purred.

Selena.

"No, Lady Selena," Mara whispered. "The fever took her hours ago. She hasn't moved."

"Check her pulse."

Fabric rustled. Two fingers pressed against my neck. I kept my breathing shallow. I didn't twitch a single muscle.

"It is very faint," Mara reported. Her voice shook.

"Good," Selena said. "You did well, Mara. That woman won't live much longer."

"Will the Alpha... will he investigate?"

Selena let out a sharp, cruel laugh. "Investigate what? A weak Silvermoon female bleeding out during childbirth? It happens every day."

"But the dose was high," Mara stammered. "The blood loss—"

"The blood loss ensures she doesn't survive the night," Selena interrupted. "Darian has his heir. He doesn't need the breeding mare anymore."

Poison.

The word slammed into my fragile consciousness like an ice pick. The sweet floral scent. The oleander. Darian telling me to drink.

"What about the rest of the vial?" Mara asked.

"Burn it," Selena commanded. "Leave her to die. If she somehow wakes, do not give her water."

"Yes, my Lady."

They turned away. Their footsteps retreated. The door clicked shut.

Silence returned, heavy and suffocating.

I opened my eyes to the empty, dark room. The fever boiled my blood, but ice wrapped around my heart.

I reached down and grabbed a handful of the thick fur pelt beneath me. I squeezed until my fingernails bent. A sharp snap echoed in the quiet room as two of my nails broke off, digging into my palms.

I welcomed the sting.

They poisoned me. Under Darian's roof. Under his command.

I forced my head to turn toward the empty bassinet in the corner. They had taken Lucas to the nursery.

"I will not die," I whispered to the empty room.

A shadow shifted by the window curtains, separating from the darkness.

"No," a deep, unfamiliar male voice agreed from the corner. "You won't."