Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 175: Wanted

**Tiana's POV**

The fake papers felt heavy in my hands, reminding me of the risks I was about to take. I'd spent three days waiting, watching, and avoiding guards to get them. Three days of living in the shadows, always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But getting the papers was just the beginning. Now, the real challenge has started.

I needed to transform into someone else. Into a servant. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I used to walk these streets as Theo's mate, with people bowing as I passed. I was someone, a person of power and influence. Now, I had to fade into the background, bowing my head and keeping my voice low, pretending to be nobody.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but I knew it was necessary. I had to blend in, to become invisible if I was going to succeed. I spent the morning in my small rented room, pacing back and forth, practicing how to speak without drawing attention. I tried to remember how the palace servants behaved when I lived there. How they carried themselves, their careful, clipped tones.

I practiced curtsying, trying to get the movement just right. I didn't want to stand out, didn't want to draw attention to myself. I wanted to be just another face in the crowd, another servant among many. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to see it through. I had to see it through.

But it was one thing to act like a servant in front of Theo; it was another to convince an entire palace full of people. Even though in Moonstone I was literally a maid, this felt different.

I needed help.

The marketplace was packed, probably because of the increased patrols. Guards were everywhere, scanning faces, and I could feel their eyes on me like a weight. I kept my hood low and clutched a basket to blend in with the other commoners running errands. I had to be careful; one misstep could mean capture, or worse.

I spotted her at the back of the market, an older woman sorting dried herbs with ease. She was a housekeeper in the noble district and had worked in the palace before. I'd been watching her for a while, studying her movements, her habits. I knew she was the one I needed to talk to.

I approached her cautiously, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I need help." I didn't want to draw attention to myself, not here, not now.

She barely looked up, her eyes scanning me briefly before returning to her herbs. "You don't look like someone who asks for help," she said, her voice dripping with skepticism.

I placed a silver coin on the table, hoping to change her mind. "Let's say I'm hiring you," I said, trying to sound confident.

She snorted, pocketed the coin, and asked, "What do you need?" Her tone was still wary, but I could sense a hint of curiosity.

I chose my words carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. "Manners. Speech. Etiquette." I needed to learn how to blend in with the palace servants, and how to move unnoticed among the nobles. "Of a servant."

Now she looked at me fully, her sharp eyes examining my posture, my hands, my expression. She took in every detail, every nuance. "You're trying to pass as a palace servant," she stated, her voice firm.

I nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation. Could I really pull this off? Or would I be discovered, caught, and punished?

I didn’t confirm or deny it.

She exhaled through her nose. “Meet me behind the baker’s shop in an hour.”

When I met her behind the shop, she didn’t waste time. She made me balance a book on my head, correcting my posture. She scolded me every time I moved too sharply.

“Servants don’t walk like they own the ground,” she muttered. “They glide. No sharp movements. No confidence.”

She forced me to practice answering questions in a meek voice, reminding me not to meet anyone’s eyes for too long.

It was humiliating.

But I swallowed my pride and endured it. Because I needed this.

That night, as I returned to my inn, I noticed the guards had doubled. My heart pounded when I saw the paper nailed to a wooden post.

A sketch.

It wasn’t a perfect likeness, but it was close enough—too close. Someone had seen me. Someone had spoken to the guards.

I turned away quickly, lowering my head, but my mind was racing.

The streets weren’t safe anymore.

When I reached my room, I found the slip of paper tucked under the door.

I can help you. Meet me at the bridge at midnight.

I stared at it for a long time.

A trap? Or an opportunity?

Either way, I had no choice. If someone knew who I was, I needed to know who they were first.

The city was quieter at night, the usual buzz of voices replaced with the distant sounds of marching patrols. I kept to the shadows as I made my way to the bridge.

I stopped a few feet away, keeping my hand near my dagger. “Who are you?”

The figure chuckled. “I could ask you the same.”

I tensed. That voice. It was familiar.

The hood dropped, revealing the man who had been following me before—the one who had seen me fight.

“I know what you are,” he said simply. “And I know why you’re here.”

My blood turned to ice.

“Relax,” he continued. “I’m not here to turn you in.”

I didn’t relax. “Then why are you here?”

He smirked. “Because you need help. And I happen to know a thing or two about surviving in the palace.”

My fingers twitched over the hilt of my dagger.

This could be another trap. Or it could be the only way I made it through the next few days alive.

I had a choice to make.

And I was running out of time.