His Abandoned Luna Chapter 192

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The grand hall of Reventhorn Castle shimmered like a living jewel box, thousands of candles suspended in midair by some ancient enchantment casting golden light over the sea of silks and polished armor. My coral peach gown rippled like liquid sunset with every breath I took, the silver embroidery catching the light in ways that made the floral patterns seem to bloom and wither with each step.

That thought alone sent warmth curling through my stomach as I smoothed a hand over the delicate fabric. He’d recalled my idle comment last summer about how the peach orchards near the border reminded me of sunrise after a long night. Now here I stood, draped in that very hue, while he—

“Lilac!”

Mom’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. She floated toward me in a gown of emerald green, Dad’s arm looped protectively through hers. Behind them, Ezra stood uncharacteristically still in his formal blacks, the silver fastenings gleaming like stars against the midnight fabric.

“There you are Sweetpea,” Mom breathed, cupping my face. Her thumbs brushed my cheeks, her brow furrowing. “You’re glowing.”

Dad’s nostrils flared subtly, a smile formed on his lips. But before he could speak, Ezra shouldered between them with a grin.

“Obviously she’s glowing,” he teased, flicking the beaded sleeve of my gown. “Our little Lilac finally gets to show off.” His smile faltered as he really looked at me. “Though you do look… different.”

I narrowed my eyes, “More beautiful, you mean?”

“More terrifying,” he shot back, but his eyes were soft.

A chorus of giggles erupted to my left. Elara, Astrid, and Madeline descended upon us in a cloud of perfume and rustling skirts.

“By the Goddess, that dress!” Elara whistled low, her auburn curls bouncing. “Tell me that’s one of those expensive silk. It has to be.”

Astrid reached out but stopped just shy of touching the fabric. “It’s enchanted. Can’t you feel it? Like moonlight given form.”

Madeline’s sharp eyes darted between my face and the subtle drape of fabric over my stomach. “And how exactly did you acquire this piece?”

“Alaric got this for me,” I cut in smoothly, catching the dangerous glint in her gaze. “For tonight’s… festivities.”

The girls exchanged looks.

“Speaking of festivities,” Elara leaned in, her whisper barely audible over the string quartet, “do you think he’ll actually show? The Alpha of the Nightshades?”

Astrid shivered. “They say his wolf is the size of a warhorse.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Madeline countered. “I heard he—”

I smiled inwardly. I wondered how they would react when they see Alaric at the throne. The great doors groaned open, cutting Madeline off.

Every head turned. Every breath stilled.

Twelve figures stood silhouetted against the corridor, each clad in matching onyx-and-silver formalwear, each wearing an intricate silver mask shaped like howling wolves. But it was the pendants around their necks that made the crowd murmur— obsidian stones carved with the Nightshade crest, pulsing with dark energy that made my own wolf stir in recognition.

Scent dampeners. So that no one could see through their identity.

The crowd parted like wheat before a scythe as they advanced. And at their head, there he was.

Oh goddess! My pulse stuttered.

The masked Alpha stood a full head taller than even the Alpha King, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure in a tailored navy coat that brought out the storm-grey glint of his eyes behind the mask. Moonlight seemed to cling to him, casting an ethereal glow over the silver threads woven through his attire.

Elara’s nails dug into my arm. “Goddess above. He's tall.”

Astrid forgot to breathe, "he somehow looks familiar!"

Elara, ever the pragmatist, muttered, “That’s at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle under—”

“Shut up,” Madeline and Astrid hissed in unison.

"But he did look familiar," Madeline added.

The Alpha reached the dais and turned. The room fell so silent I could hear the candles flicker.

“I thank you all for gathering on such short notice.” His voice— that beloved, infuriatingly controlled voice— rolled through the hall like thunder. “We are forced to claim the throne as we are in a crisis. Our kind are dying every day. We carry the bloodline from the goddess herself and we cannot seat back and watch our kind fall.”

A ripple of unease.

He continued, “Tonight begins with honor.” One gloved hand gestured to Ezra. “Step forward, Ezra Blackwood.”

My brother went rigid. Dad gave him a gentle push.

The ceremonial dagger materialized in the Alpha’s grip, its obsidian blade drinking in the light. “Kneel.”

Ezra did, his head bowed.

The Alpha’s voice rang out, clear and commanding:

“By blood and bone,

by moon and might,

I name you shield

to the coming night.

Your fangs for the weak,

your claws for the right,

Royal Beta from this hour ’til endless light.”

The dagger flashed. A thin red line appeared on Ezra’s left cheekbone— the mark of his new station. The moon beamed on them as if the goddess blessed him herself. The crowd erupted in cheers as the Alpha helped him rise, clasping his forearm in the warrior’s grip.

“Let us toast!” The Alpha raised a goblet. “To Ezra Blackwood!”

“To Ezra!” The hall echoed.

Glasses clinked. I watched with razor focus as the crowd drank—and noted with cold satisfaction the dozen or so who merely pretended to sip.

Got you. I smiled.

As the musicians struck up a waltz, the Alpha’s masked gaze found mine across the room. Even through the enchantments, I’d know that look anywhere— the barely restrained hunger, the promise of later.

I raised my own glass in silent salute.

It had started.