The Luna Who Ruined Her Mate

The first thing Elidra felt was the cold. It was not the natural chill of a winter morning or the cool breeze of a forest.

It was a sterile, clinical freezing that seemed to seep directly into her bones. When she opened her eyes, the world was a blur of white and grey.

Her head throbbed with a rhythmic, pulsing pain that made it feel as though her skull had been cracked open and stitched back together with rusted wire.

She tried to move her hand, but her fingers felt heavy, like lead weights. A soft, firm grip caught her wrist.

You are finally awake, a deep voice said. It was smooth and rich, like expensive velvet, but there was an edge underneath it that made the hair on her arms stand up.

Elidra blinked, forcing her vision to focus. A man sat beside her bed. He was strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of a stormy sea.

He wore a dark suit that looked out of place in the medical room.

Who are you? Elidra whispered. Her voice sounded thin and cracked, as if she had not used it in years.

The man’s grip on her wrist tightened just a fraction before he relaxed his fingers. He gave her a small, tight smile that did not reach his face.

I am Silas, your husband, he replied. You had a terrible accident, Elidra. You were defending our people from a rogue attack at the northern border.

You took a blow to the head that we feared would be the end of you.

Elidra searched her mind for the name. Silas. Husband. Silver Crest. Nothing came back.

Her memory was a vast, empty wasteland of white fog. She tried to reach for a single image, a face, a childhood memory, or even the feeling of her wolf, but there was only silence.

It was as if her entire life had been erased with a damp cloth.

I don't remember you, she said, her heart starting to hammer against her ribs. I don't remember anything.

Silas leaned closer, his scent filling her lungs. It was the smell of expensive cologne and something sharp, like ozone before a storm. He reached up and traced the line of the scar that ran along her hairline. His touch was cold.

The doctors said this might happen, he murmured. It is a temporary side effect of the trauma. Do not worry yourself. I am here to guide you. You are the Luna of the Silver Crest pack.

You are my queen. Everything you need to know, I will teach you again.

He stood up and walked toward the window, pulling back the heavy curtains.

Sunlight flooded the room, but it provided no warmth. Outside, Elidra could see a sprawling estate.

Great stone buildings rose from manicured lawns, and in the distance, she saw men and women moving with a strange, fluid grace.

They were werewolves.

She knew that much. The instinctual knowledge of her species remained, even if her personal history was gone.

As Silas talked about the pack and the responsibilities waiting for her, Elidra pushed herself up in the bed.

Her body felt strong, despite the lingering headache. There was a hidden power coiled in her muscles that felt at odds with the fragile, confused woman Silas was describing.

“I want to get up,” she said.

Silas turned around, his eyes narrowing for a brief second before the mask of the concerned husband returned.

You should rest for another day, Elidra. Your recovery is my priority.

I am tired of lying here, she insisted. If I were Luna, I would see my home.

Silas watched her for a long moment, his silence stretching out until the air in the room felt thick enough to choke on.

Finally, he nodded. He walked to a wardrobe and pulled out a dress made of heavy, cream colored silk.

Very well. But stay close to me. The people are emotional after the attack. They might overwhelm you.

An hour later, Elidra was walking through the grand hallways of the pack house. Everything was decorated in gold and silver, reflecting the wealth and power of the Silver Crest.

Yet, as she walked beside Silas, she noticed something disturbing.

Whenever they passed a member of the pack, the reaction was always the same. A maid scrubbing the floor dropped her brush, her face turning pale as she pressed her back against the wall.

Two warriors walking toward them stopped dead in their tracks, their heads bowing so low their chins touched their chests. They weren't showing respect. They were terrified.

She saw a young girl, no older than six, standing near a large vase. When the girl saw Elidra, her eyes went wide with horror. She scrambled backward, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away.

Silas did not seem to notice. He kept his hand firmly on Elidra’s back, steering her through the halls like a piece of property.

Why do they look at me like that? Elidra asked softly, her voice barely a breath.

Like what? Silas asked, his tone bored.

They look like they expect me to hit them.

Silas laughed, a short, dry sound. You are a powerful Luna, Elidra.

You have always been firm with the staff. You demanded excellence, and they gave it to you. Do not mistake their discipline for fear.

They reached a large set of double doors. Silas opened them to reveal a massive dining hall.

A long table was set for two, but the room felt large enough to host hundreds.

Eat, Silas commanded, gesturing to the food.

You need your strength. Tomorrow, we have a public appearance. The pack needs to see that their Luna is back and in good health.

Elidra sat down, but she could not eat.

Every time Silas looked at her, she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. When he finally left the room to take a call from his Beta, Elidra seized the opportunity.

She stood up and began to wander, her feet moving with a strange familiarity toward a wing of the house Silas had not shown her.

She found herself in a narrow corridor that smelled of damp earth and old paper. At the very end was a heavy oak door with a silver lock.

Her fingers moved toward the handle, and to her surprise, she felt a small key tucked into a hidden pocket of her dress. Her subconscious had known it was there.

She turned the key and stepped inside. It was a private study, but it didn't look like a place for reading.

The walls were lined with maps marked in red ink, showing territories that had been conquered. On the desk lay a leather-bound journal.

Elidra opened it. The handwriting was elegant, sharp, and slanted. It was her own.

May 14th, the entry read.

The Alpha of the Blood Moon pack refused the surrender terms. I have ordered the warriors to burn their grain stores.

Let them watch their children starve before we move in for the kill. Mercy is a luxury for the weak.

The book fell from Elidra’s hands, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. She backed away, her heart racing.

The woman who wrote those words was a monster. She looked around the room and saw a glass display case. Inside were various silver daggers, their blades stained with something dark and permanent.

Beside them was a list of names, most of them crossed out with a single, brutal line.

She realized then that the amnesia was not a tragedy. It was a hiding place. The person she had been was a tyrant who ruled through blood and agony.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Elidra spun around, her breath catching in her throat. Silas stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking out the light from the hallway.

He looked at the journal on the floor and then back at her. The mask of the loving husband was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating mask of stone.

I told you to stay in the dining hall, Elidra, he said, his voice dropping an octave.

I... I was just looking for a book, she stammered, trying to hide her shaking hands.

Silas walked into the room, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

He picked up the journal and placed it back on the desk. He leaned in close to her, his hand coming up to grip her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

You should not go digging for things you are not ready to handle, he whispered.

The old Elidra was a creature of war. She was my perfect partner. If you want to remain the Luna of this pack, you will learn to be that woman again.

He let go of her chin and turned toward the door.

Come. There is something you need to see. A rogue has been caught near the southern gate. He claims to have information about your accident.

Elidra followed him, her mind spinning. She felt like she was walking toward a trap, but she had no choice.

They descended into the lower levels of the pack house, where the air grew thick with the scent of sweat and iron.

They reached a heavy iron gate. Silas nodded to the guard, who pulled a lever. The gate groaned open, revealing a damp, dimly lit cell.

Inside, a man was chained to the wall.

His shirt was torn to shreds, revealing a back covered in deep, jagged scars. His hair was long and matted with dirt, but when he heard the door open, he lifted his head.

The moment Elidra saw him, the world stopped. A bolt of electricity shot through her chest, so violent it made her knees buckle.

A heat she had never felt before began to radiate from her heart, spreading through her veins like liquid fire.

Her wolf, which had been a silent ghost in the back of her mind, suddenly roared with a primal intensity that nearly blinded her.

Mate.

The word echoed in her soul with the force of an avalanche.

The man in chains looked at her, his eyes burning with a mixture of agony and hatred so pure it felt like a physical blow. He didn't see a queen. He didn't see his wife. He saw his greatest enemy.

Silas stepped forward, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he looked between the two of them.

Elidra, I believe you remember Cassian, Silas said, his voice dripping with malice. He is the one you spent months breaking.

He is the one you stripped of his title and his pride. And tonight, you are going to finish the job.

Silas reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy, silver branding iron. He held it over a small brazier of hot coals until the metal began to glow a bright, angry orange.

He turned back to Elidra and held the handle out to her.

Brand him, Elidra. Prove to the pack that your mercy died with your memory.

Elidra looked at the glowing iron, then at the man chained to the wall. Her heart felt like it was being torn in two.

The bond was screaming at her to reach for him, to heal him, to protect him. But the man she was supposed to love was standing over her, waiting for her to become a monster once again.

Cassian’s eyes locked onto hers, his voice a low, guttural growl that vibrated in the small room.

Go on, Luna, he spat, a drop of blood falling from his split lip. Finish what you started before you lose your mind.