Lilienne
Once again, we walk in silence. I'm not sure what exactly is making me feel so unsettled.
That dark, ice-cold expression he had given Serina just moments ago was so drastically different from the one he slipped into the second we resumed walking, it almost felt like I had been standing beside two entirely different men.
Now, even though it appears he's put Serina out of his mind, there's still tension in the rigid set of his shoulders, and his steps fall heavy against the stone path. This no longer feels like a man out for a leisurely stroll—it feels like a man intent on crushing everything beneath his feet.
His expression has softened again, but I can't shake the feeling that the previous version of Magnus hasn't truly returned.
"Luna?"
I blink, startled as his voice slices through my thoughts and pulls me back to the present.
"Yes?" I reply quickly, though there's a strange flicker of disappointment inside me—something as small and ridiculous as wishing he'd called me "My Queen" again.
"You look like you have a lot on your mind," Magnus observes, his voice deceptively calm. But I feel like I should be saying the same thing to him.
"Is it because of that woman?"
Bull's-eye.
I flinch at how precise and piercing his intuition is. He's far too observant—it's unsettling. His ability to read me so clearly makes it almost impossible to remain detached or in control.
"It's strange," he says again, not even waiting for my answer. Did he genuinely want a response? Or does he already know that whatever I might say aloud about her will never be the truth?
"As werewolves," he continues, "we grow up believing that finding a true mate is a blessing from the Moon Goddess—a gift shaped by fate itself. But as we mature and face the world, we begin to understand that even the Moon Goddess, even fate, can make mistakes. Just as we do."
I falter slightly, my steps growing uneven as his words echo through my mind. Why would he say something like that to me? And more importantly—how does he already know that Serina is Kaelen's fated mate?
"Luna," his velvety voice slices through my spiraling thoughts, soft yet sharp enough to blur my consciousness and pull me in a different direction. "There's no blessing in bowing to fate if it means betraying your own heart."
Then he falls silent again, a quiet, enigmatic smile curling at the corners of his lips—just enough to unsettle me.
We step into the garden, greeted by a fresh, damp breeze that dances through the leaves, still heavy with the memory of last night's storm. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and blooming petals. Though we tread the carefully maintained path, I can still feel the softened earth shifting beneath our feet, as if the garden itself is responding to our presence.
Silence returns between us, but my thoughts refuse to quiet. The words I long to speak are bubbling beneath the surface, brimming with a dangerous intensity.
By saying that… I keep replaying his words in my head, my fingers curling into my palms, nails biting into skin as I clench and unclench my fists. He was trying to tell me we aren't mindless beasts ruled by instinct. That Kaelen could have resisted Serina. And yes—it would have hurt. But pain passes. Even wolves heal, eventually.
Kaelen is not weak—but he still chose to bring her. Because he's an animal ruled by lust. That's what Magnus was trying to tell me.
"Perhaps today isn't the best day to show you around the garden," I hear myself say, forcing down the unreasonable anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface of my composure. "Last night's storm shook off quite a lot of the blooms."
Magnus responds with a dry scoff and a half-hearted shrug—so dismissive, so aloof, that I can't help but wonder: did he even care to see the garden in the first place?
"That's alright," he says coolly, turning on his heel. "We'll have plenty of chances to stroll through it together. I'm looking forward to it."
"Pardon?" I blink, unsure I heard him correctly. But once again, my question is met with nothing more than another scoff and that same unreadable, detached expression.
"The first evening of Lunaris is tomorrow," he says, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "I hope you're as excited as I am."
Then, with a final subtle smirk, he walks away—his steps unnervingly light and quiet, vanishing like a shadow into the garden's misty stillness.
I remain where I am, unmoving, the silence thick around me. My heart churns with too many feelings, too fast for my mind to process.
This man is going to be trouble.
***
Lunaris is a grand event, spanning three evenings of celebration.
The first night is traditionally dedicated to the guests of the hosting kingdom or pack. It's a lavish, convivial affair meant to honor the friendships we've nurtured through years of hard-won power and carefully negotiated alliances.
It has always been my favorite part of Lunaris. A time to reconnect with trusted friends and familiar faces, to build new relationships—or reignite old flames beneath the soft glow of lantern light and wine-soaked laughter.
As hosts of this year's Lunaris, Kaelen and I were obligated to arrive together and greet each honored guest personally—a tedious tradition made infinitely worse by the fact that Kaelen hadn't spoken a single word to me since learning about Serina's encounter with Magnus. Not until we were standing outside the grand entrance of the event hall, forced to smile like a united front.
And for the first time since I learned what Lunaris truly was, I loathe it. I loathe every gilded detail, every empty courtesy. I want nothing more than to vanish into the night and leave it all behind. I never imagined that simply standing beside my husband could feel so suffocating.
At last, the charade ends. Kaelen slips away to do as he pleases, and I drift toward the bar, craving something—anything—strong enough to dull the edges of this elaborate farce.
I'm just about to order when a familiar voice cuts through the noise, lilting and radiant with laughter.
Serina.
My pulse spikes with disbelief, then irritation.
Why in the Goddess's name is she here?