SLYRA’S POV
Silver moonlight bathed the Blackmaw territory, turning the celebration grounds into something almost magical, if magic could exist in a place that had slowly become my prison.
“Stand up straight, Luna. Your posture reflects on all of us,” Lady Vela hissed as she glided past me, her elaborate silver dress catching the firelight. Her voice was low enough that only I could hear, her smile never faltering for the benefit of the pack members watching us.
I straightened my spine, feeling the ornate Luna pendant—a symbol that should have granted me respect—weighing heavy against my chest. My fingertips brushed the intricate wolf design, a reminder of promises made and slowly being broken.
“Yes, Lady Vela,” I murmured, though she had already moved on, leaving the scent of expensive perfume and thinly veiled contempt in her wake.
The Blackmaw Moon Festival should have been a night of celebration, of unity. Instead, I stood alone at the edge of the gathering, watching my mate, Rovan, speak with the council elders across the clearing. He hadn’t looked in my direction once since the ceremony began.
“Wine, Luna Slyra?”
I turned to find Neressa, Rovan’s sister, extending a goblet toward me, her smile sharp as a blade. Behind her, a cluster of pack women watched with barely concealed interest.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting the drink with steady hands. I refused to show weakness.
Neressa lingered, adjusting the fur draped across her shoulders. “Quite the turnout tonight,” she said conversationally. “The Redfang delegation seems particularly… comfortable.”
I followed her gaze to where several wolves bearing the distinctive red markings of the neighboring pack mingled with our own.
“It’s good for inter-pack relations,” I replied diplomatically.
Neressa laughed, the sound like ice cracking. “Of course. Relations. That’s what matters most, isn’t it?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Speaking of relations, the council meeting yesterday was fascinating. So many discussions about bloodlines and… fertility.”
My grip tightened on the goblet. The whispers had been growing louder over the past months—whispers that I was barren, that I had failed in my most basic duty as Luna.
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied evenly. “I wasn’t invited.”
“Weren’t you?” Neressa’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “How strange. I was certain Rovan would have mentioned it to his Luna.”
A younger pack member approached us nervously. “Lady Neressa, your mother is asking for you.”
Neressa sighed dramatically. “Enjoy the festival, Luna.” She emphasized my title with subtle mockery before departing.
I took a deep breath and scanned the crowd again. Rovan remained surrounded by council members, still not looking my way. Three years married, and the distance between us had grown from a crack to a chasm.
“They say the runt will be replaced soon,” a voice murmured nearby, not bothering to lower their tone enough. “A Luna without lineage was a mistake to begin with.”
“Shh, she’ll hear you,” another responded, though I detected no real concern in their tone.
I pretended not to notice, sipping my wine and watching the dancers circle the central bonfire. The flames leaped high, sending sparks toward the full moon that hung heavy above us.
“Luna Slyra.”
I turned to find Thorne, one of the few pack members who still showed me genuine respect. His weathered face was solemn.
“The Alpha requests your presence by the ceremonial stones,” he said quietly.
My heart stuttered. “Thank you, Thorne.”
As I made my way through the crowd, conversations dimmed momentarily before resuming in hurried whispers. I held my head high, though every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
Rovan stood tall by the ancient stones that marked the heart of Blackmaw territory. The firelight cast shadows across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp angles that had once made my breath catch. Now, I searched those features for any warmth directed at me and found none.
A burst of laughter drew my attention and I realize that is where his attention is. Lady Vela was approaching, accompanied by a woman I recognized as Lady Elene of the Redfang Pack. Elene was stunning, with flame-red hair cascading down her back and a confident stride that commanded attention.
“Alpha Rovan,” Lady Elene purred, inclining her head respectfully before turning to me. “Luna Slyra. What an honor to finally meet you properly.”
“Lady Elene,” I acknowledged, noting how Rovan’s posture had subtly changed, straightening, broadening, in her presence. Something cold and heavy settled in my stomach.
Lady Elene smiled, and for a moment, I thought I caught something in her expression, a flash of triumph, perhaps? But it disappeared so quickly I convinced myself I’d imagined it.
“The Redfang delegation brings gifts,” Lady Vela announced, gesturing toward the entrance where servants carried elaborately wrapped packages.
“Most generous,” Rovan replied, his voice warmer than it had been moments ago with me.
Elene’s hand briefly touched Rovan’s arm. “We value strong alliances, Alpha.”
That touch lingered a heartbeat too long. My throat tightened, and I quietly excused myself without Rovan noticing.
As midnight approached, Rovan called for attention. The drums fell silent, and the pack gathered around the central fire. I moved to take my place beside him, as tradition dictated, but found Lady Vela subtly blocking my path.
“Perhaps just behind would be more appropriate,” she whispered, her smile never reaching her eyes.
Before I could respond, Rovan’s voice rang out across the clearing.
“Blackmaw Pack,” he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the night air. “Tonight we celebrate under the moon’s blessing. We honor our ancestors and look toward our future.”
The pack howled in approval, the sound echoing through the trees.
When silence fell again, Rovan continued. “For generations, the strength of our pack has been our unity. Tonight, I announce a decision made to further that strength.”
My breath caught as Rovan extended his hand. Not toward me, but to Lady Elene, who stepped forward with practiced grace.
“I will be taking Lady Elene of Redfang as a second mate,” Rovan announced, his voice firm and resolute. “This union will strengthen the bonds between our packs and ensure a prosperous future for Blackmaw.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and howls of approval. Through the noise and movement, I stood frozen, the world narrowing to a pinpoint of disbelief and betrayal.
In that moment, as my mate held another woman’s hand before our entire pack, I realized the truth that had been whispered around me for months: I was no longer the Luna of Blackmaw in anything but name.
