The Forsaken Luna’s Shadow: Return of the White Wolf

The Present:

The clock struck nine just as I let the poison drip into the third glass of blackberry wine.

The chime drowned out the strings of the orchestra and the muffled click of the stopper as I sealed the vial. I tucked the small bottle back into my sleeve, lowered my gaze, and continued forward with the silver tray.

Tonight’s banquet was held in the old lord’s manor in Cairnwick.

Once, this place was known as Barrett Manor.

Now, the black banner of House Miller hung over the lintel. In the center of the flag, a raven spread its wings, silver thorns entwined in its talons. It was the sigil Morcant Miller favored, the very thing that had haunted my nightmares for nine years.

I walked down the long corridor, my fingers brushing the edge of the tray until they found the Silver Blade hidden beneath my wristband. The hilt pressed against my skin, cold and unforgiving.

Tonight, I would kill Morcant Miller.

If the opportunity arose, I would kill his son as well.

The banquet hall was larger than I remembered, yet entirely foreign. The walls, where the White Wolf banners of House Barrett once hung, had been painted a somber charcoal gray. Above the hearth, the Miller house motto was carved into the stone. My father’s throne had been moved to the center of the hall, a dark red gem embedded in its backrest.

I recognized that stone. It had been excavated from my family’s Underground Temple.

Nine years ago, my mother held my hand in that very temple and told me it was the Lunar Core, the sacred guardian of House Barrett. She said only a true heir could touch it; only the blood of the White Wolf could make it glow.

Now, it was pinned to a Miller throne, a trophy for all to see.

I passed the throne with my tray of wine, not daring to linger. Sitting there was Morcant Miller, clad in deep gray formal wear with black fur draped across his shoulders. His hair was whiter than the rumors suggested, the wrinkles on his face deeper, but his eyes remained unchanged—cold, brooding, and looking at every living soul as if calculating their utility.

A young man stood beside him.

Rhydian Miller.

I hadn’t seen him in nine years. In my memory, Rhydian was still a boy, his black hair perpetually windswept, his eyes a shade lighter than the night. When he laughed, he showed a slightly crooked canine tooth.

He used to sneak over the back wall of Barrett Manor after training, bringing me honey cakes he’d stolen from my mother’s pantry. He promised me that when he grew up, he’d be a powerful warrior and protect me from anyone who tried to hurt me.

I believed him then.

The Rhydian standing there now was a stranger. He was much taller than I remembered, broad-shouldered and powerful, his black suit tailored perfectly to his frame. He wore little ornamentation, save for a raven brooch pinned to his lapel. The firelight caught the silver edge of the badge, flashing with a piercing brightness.

I looked away.

Tonight wasn’t for reminiscing. It was for vengeance.

I threaded through the gaps between guests, delivering the untainted wine to the tables near the door first. The three glasses of poisoned blackberry wine remained on the inner side of my tray, waiting for the throne.

The poison wouldn't act instantly. It would cause the throat to tighten and the heart to slow, eventually mimicking a sudden flare-up of an old ailment. Once I got Morcant to drink it, I’d be out of the city before the guards realized anything was wrong.

As for Rhydian...

I hadn't decided yet. If he had participated in the massacre all those years ago, he would die with his father. If he hadn't known, I still wouldn't forgive him. A Miller, even one who hadn't held the blade, still feasted on everything stolen from the Barretts—this city, this land, and the life I was supposed to have.

"Quiet, everyone."

Morcant stood from his throne. The music ceased, and the chatter in the hall died down to a murmur. Everyone turned toward him, wearing sycophantic smiles.

Behind a stone pillar, I raised my tray to shield half my face. Morcant lifted his glass, the red wine within looking nearly black under the torchlight.

"Tonight is the Founder’s Banquet, marking the ninth year since House Miller formally took stewardship of Cairnwick," he said, his voice not loud but carrying clearly to every corner of the room. "Nine years ago, the reign of House Barrett came to an end. Through years of cleansing and reorganization, Cairnwick has finally found its order."

Someone started the applause, and soon the hall was filled with it.

I watched them—the people clapping. Some of them had once knelt before my father to swear fealty. Some had lived on my mother’s charity. Some had even sent me gifts on my birthdays. Now, they wore expensive silks and Miller badges, their faces devoid of even a shred of guilt.

Morcant raised a hand, silencing the room.

"The greatest cause for celebration," he continued, "is that the last of the Barrett bloodline, Vespera Barrett, is also dead."

I clenched my fist so hard my knuckles turned white.

"That child perished in the fires nine years ago. Her parents, her brother, and all those who sought to restore the old regime have been buried in the soil of Cairnwick. The Barrett line ends here. It will never return."

A wave of hushed discussion swept through the hall. People laughed. Some raised their glasses in toast.

I stared at Morcant, my chest tightening until I could hardly breathe. For a moment, I forgot where I was, forgot the blade in my sleeve, and forgot the nine years I’d spent learning how to wait. I wanted to lung forward and drive the steel into his throat.

But I held back. I hadn't made him drink the poison yet. I hadn't turned this banquet into his final celebration.

As I prepared to step out from behind the pillar, a scent suddenly hit me.

It was the smell of rust and rain, heavy and oppressive. My breath hitched.

This wasn't the perfume of the guests or the scent of the wood burning in the hearth. It was too familiar; my body reacted before my mind could process it.

A Fated Mate.

Tenebriana stirred in the back of my mind, the White Wolf spirit thrashing against my consciousness with a low, uncontrollable growl. I gripped the tray, forcing her back down.

Impossible. How could I encounter a Fated Mate here? I didn't need a mate. I had only one goal: to survive and take back everything that belonged to the Barretts.

But the scent was getting closer.

I turned slowly, my gaze cutting through the crowd until it landed on the young man beside the throne.

Rhydian seemed to have sensed something as well. He was no longer listening to Morcant. He turned his head, his eyes searching the room until they found me.

Our gazes locked across the hall.

Tenebriana lost all patience. She screamed inside me, nearly tearing through my mental disguise. My fingertips went numb, my heart hammered against my ribs, and the noise of the party faded into a dull roar.

Rhydian’s expression shifted. He smelled me. But he didn't recognize me.

To him, I was Vera Ives, a low-ranking Omega from the southern Walton lands—a woman with no status, living only to serve the nobility. Vespera Barrett was dead. She had died in the fire nine years ago. At least, that’s what everyone believed.

I lowered my eyes and prepared to turn away, but Rhydian was already moving toward me.

He cut through the crowd with steady, purposeful strides, ignoring the guests who stepped aside for him. His face was cold and unfamiliar in the firelight, the boy long gone. Only the intensity in his eyes held a ghost of the memory I carried.

I slipped my hand under the tray, my palm meeting the edge of the Silver Blade.

Rhydian stopped directly in front of me. His aura was overwhelming, suffocating.

"You," he said, his voice low. "What is your name?"

I looked up, meeting his dark, searching gaze.

"Vera Ives."

He stared at me, his eyes clearly hunting for the shadow of someone else in my features. Then, he reached out his hand toward me.

"Then come with me."

My fingers tightened. The edge of the blade bit into my palm. I never expected that my Fated Mate would be the son of the enemy I had sworn to destroy.

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