The Abandoned Luna's Journey to Power Chapter 376: A Festival at Home

Cindy's POV:

A massive bonfire had been raised in the open courtyard, its flames roaring high enough to rival the night sky.

Julian, who was ordinarily so fastidious about his appearance that not a single hair would dare fall out of place, had actually discarded his tailcoat and rolled up his sleeves. There he stood, perspiring freely as he labored over a roasting spit, turning an entire plump young lamb until it sizzled.

Golden fat dripped onto the coals, hissing as it struck, the rich, savory aroma unfurling through the air.

Viola was there, along with Stick and all the others.

The moment Viola spotted our return, she came bounding over, brandishing a foaming tankard of ale.

"There you are! Took you long enough. Whatever they served at the palace couldn't possibly compare to this." The moment she spotted us, Viola strode forward with a brimming mug of beer in hand. She shoved the mug straight into Adam's hand, then passed me a glass of juice with a grin. "Come on, don't dawdle. The night's only just getting started."

The crackling fire and the laughter and the scent of roasting meat dispelled the weight that had settled upon my chest after the audience with Prince Niall and all those tedious political undercurrents.

"Jewel!" I called over my shoulder, sweeping my arm in a grand gesture. "Bring it out, if you please!"

"Right away!"

Jewel beamed, all teeth and enthusiasm, as she motioned for several of the sturdier maids. Together, they hauled out a weighty camphorwood chest from storage, grunting under its burden before setting it down with a solid thud beside the firelit stone table.

I stepped forward and flipped open the lid.

Firelight spilled across the contents, catching on a hoard of freshly minted silver coins. The gleam was almost blinding, a pale shimmer that seemed to pulse with its own quiet promise.

It was an old tradition among the werewolf clans, this. On the night of the Moon Goddess Festival, the lord and lady of the holding were expected to bestow gifts upon their household and their people. It was a gesture meant to invoke the Goddess's silver blessing, ensuring abundance in the year to come.

"Form a line!" Jewel declared, sounding like a seasoned housekeeper. She planted herself beside the chest, chin lifted. "One at a time. Offer your well-wishes, and Her Grace will reward you generously."

A cheer rippled through the gathered staff, and in moments, a neat line had formed.

"May the Goddess bless Your Grace and His Highness with eternal harmony!" A cook stepped forward, her face wreathed in smiles.

"Granted!"

I scooped up a handful of coins and pressed them into her palm without a second glance.

She did several curtsies, quite overcome with delight.

Astra watched the exchange with bright curiosity, his interest quickening into action.

With great solemnity, he rolled up his sleeves and plunged his slender little hands into the chest, grasping with all his might. But his fingers were so small, and the gaps between them so generous, that the coins streamed through like water. By the time he extended his offering to the waiting stablehand, a pitiful three coins remained.

"Oh, look at you, Mr. Astra!" Viola hooted, unable to resist the opportunity for mockery. She seized Astra by the scruff and hoisted him into the air. "Those tiny claws of yours couldn't even hold onto a proper handful. You'll ruin the estate's reputation at this rate."

Astra flushed, staring down at his traitorous fingers, his lips pressing into a thin, wounded line.

"Off with you, off with you," Viola declared, thrusting a freshly roasted leg of lamb into his arms. "Children have no business distributing fortunes. Go gnaw on that bone, and let your aunt handle the matter. She's got proper hands that can actually grasp something!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Astra, realizing he was being teased, grinned despite himself. Clutching his food, he trotted off to Adam's side.

Then, from somewhere within the line, a familiar figure emerged.

Stick sidled up to me, rubbing his hands together with an expression of such shameless ingratiation that it was almost admirable. "May Her Grace remain ever radiant, may His Highness stand undefeated, and may the Silverpeak Pack endure for generations."

Flawless.

Laughing, I seized a generous handful of coins and stuffed them into his pocket.

Stick withdrew, positively beaming.

Five minutes later, he was back. This time, he had draped some ragged scrap of cloth over his head, clearly intending it as a disguise. "May His Grace and Her Grace be blessed with abundant offspring!" he proclaimed in a ludicrous falsetto. "Two within three years, and a full brood to follow!"

"Enough of your nonsense!"

Before I could even react, Viola had planted her boot squarely upon his backside and sent him sprawling out of the line. "Have you no shame, Tyrone?" she snapped. "What do you think this is, a marketplace? ‘A full brood'? You've already had your share. Don't push your luck!"