The Golden Cage is Set
The aftermath of the public claim was a blinding blur. I was escorted out of the throne room not by jailers, but by handmaids who treated me with a fearful, almost ritualistic reverence. They didn't see Esmeralda, the omega; they saw the newly crowned True Luna, the carrier of the deadly Silver-Eyed blood.
They stripped me of the filth of the kennel and the blood of Silas. The bathing ritual was torturous—a complete immersion into a world I was utterly unsuited for. The water was scented with exotic oils, the soap made of costly flower essences, and every touch from the handmaids felt like a judgment. They washed away the mud and the grime, but they couldn't wash away the four years of abuse, nor could they wash away the terrifying magnetic pull I felt toward the man who had ordered this farce.
They dressed me in robes that felt —soft, heavy silk dyed in the deep, regal indigo of the royal house.
This is a cage, I thought, staring at my reflection. My intense brown eyes, usually dulled by exhaustion, were wide and terrified, I have not said anything since, feels like my brain has been disconnected.
I was moved into the Royal Wing. Not a cell, but a suite of rooms larger than the entire Black Hills pack slums. The bedroom was enormous, dominated by a four-poster bed draped in white furs. The windows looked out onto the beautiful city ruled by King Demetrius Klein.
Just outside my chambers, standing sentinel, was my new guard. Commander Finn. He was massive, silent, and honorable—the Chief of Guard. His face was a closed book, but when he met my gaze, there was a flicker of something that wasn't contempt: pity.
"My orders are to guard your person, Luna," his voice was deep and respectful. "I am bound to ensure your safety and follow your commands, save those that compromise the King's rule."
My commands? I knew instantly that my only real command was to breathe, and only until Demetrius no longer needed me. Commander Finn was not an ally; he was the highest-ranking watchdog. Still, the small measure of respectful distance he offered felt like a lifeboat in this sea of hostility.
The pressure started immediately. Demetrius had orchestrated a reception for the Luna, forcing the nobility to acknowledge his claim, but their contempt was barely concealed behind their silk masks.
I was paraded into a crowded salon where the scent of ambition and jealousy was thick enough to choke on. The worst of it came from the two people Demetrius clearly valued most: his Beta, Rhys Volkov, and the ambitious noble, Selene Voss.
Selene approached first, her emerald dress shimmering like liquid poison. She dismissed Finn with a wave of her hand before turning her gaze on me.
"The King's choice is clearly strategic, not romantic, Luna," Selene purred, using the title like an insult. "You would do well to remember that. We all know what you are. An omega who was rejected by a common Alpha. The throne requires strength, and King Demetrius will not long tolerate weakness beneath his crown."
I felt the familiar urge to sink into silence, but something shifted. I was no longer fighting for a corner in a slum; I was fighting for my life.
"The King chose me for a reason you clearly don't understand, Lady Selene," I replied, my voice raspy but steady. "Perhaps you should worry less about my place on the throne, and more about your own proximity to it."
Selene's smile vanished, replaced by shock. I had defied her. But before she could retaliate, Rhys, the King's stone-faced Beta, intervened.
"Lady Selene. The Luna is correct. She is here for some reasons." Rhys looked at me, his icy disapproval undisguised. "Your heritage is dangerous, Esmeralda. If you attempt any rebellion, any flight, or any communication that harms the King, I will be the one to end you. Do not mistake the King's leniency for ignorance."
Their open hostility was crushing, but it confirmed the truth: the "True Luna" title was rubbish. I had no friends here, only enemies awaiting my predicted failure.
I walked away, not giving them more things to talk about. I have an angry king to see later in the evening and I will be damned if I take the whole day here.
***********
Later that evening, Demetrius sent for me, leading me not to a state room, but to a sparse, tactical war room. The air was thick with the scent of dried ink, parchment, and tension. He was standing over a massive map table dominated by a section marked: THE SHADOW CANYONS.
He was back to being the King—cold, calculating, and ruthless.
"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a stool. He didn't offer comfort or a greeting. "You are here for one purpose. You claim knowledge of a path through those canyons—a route that my most advanced scouts deem impossible. Prove your value, Omega. Now."
He treated me like a computer, not a Queen, not a mate. He wanted data.
I realized this was my moment to solidify my leash—or shorten my lifespan. I had to access the information Old Man Silas had given me. I closed my eyes and reached inside, not for the memory, but for the talisman's imprint.
It wasn't a map in my mind. It was a feeling—a strange, vibrational knowledge linked to the silver scars on my arm. When I described the canyons, I wasn't reciting facts; I was describing an energy current.
"The entrance is not visible from the north," I began, my voice gaining clarity as I spoke the truth of the lineage. "The river flows in three channels there, but the Lycan scouts only see two. The third channel, though only six feet wide, is the path. It is hidden by an illusion, a shimmer cast by the ancient rocks that only those of Silver-Eyed blood can discern."
I pointed to the map, my finger tracing a line through a maze of red markings that signified death traps. "If you enter at the full moon, the illusion thins. The path follows the current for two days, then rises into a dry riverbed. It is the only route that avoids the Aegis Initiative's thermal detection nets."
Demetrius watched me, utterly still. His expression was slowly transitioning from disbelief to icy comprehension. He didn't look impressed; he looked vindicated, as if a complicated equation had finally been solved.
"So the old myths are true," he murmured, the closest he'd come to an emotional admission. "The bloodline carries the memory of the land."
My strategic value was confirmed. I had secured my survival, for now.
Rhys was ordered to begin planning the route immediately, but Demetrius dismissed everyone except me. The moment the heavy oak doors shut, the cold pragmatism returned, intensified by the forced intimacy of the empty room.
He walked over to the desk, his massive frame radiating suppressed power. He didn't come close enough for the bond to flare, maintaining a distance designed to keep both his mind and mine safe.
He didn't need to grab me, but he delivered the threat with the crushing finality of a predator.
"You understand your position, Luna?" he asked, the title a cruel mockery.
I met his eye, my fear now tempered with a strange, defiant resilience. I couldn't beat him, but I wouldn't break. "I am a tool. A means to an end."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Precisely. You are here to secure my victory over Victor Sterling and the Aegis Initiative. Once the route is fully secured and utilized, you are irrelevant. Do you truly understand what that means, Esmeralda?"
I swallowed, the regal silk around my throat feeling tighter than a noose. "It means I disappear. Permanently."
His expression didn't change. It was utter, cold-blooded pragmatism. "If you comply, quietly and completely, I will ensure your death is painless. You will be remembered as the Luna who saved our race, before an unfortunate, swift illness took you."
He then took a step closer, close enough for the faint, desperate scent of his true Alpha to hit me. It was deliberate torture, a test of his own control.
"But if you falter, if you attempt to betray me, or if that cursed Silver-Eyed bloodline attempts to exercise its true power…" He let the threat hang, heavy and final. "I will do to you what you did to Damon, magnified tenfold. You will guide my army, and then you will disappear. You are a tool to secure my victory, nothing more. Fail me, and I will execute you myself. You understand, Luna?"
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. My entire life had been defined by what others wanted—Damon's rejection, Silas's desperate secret, and now Demetrius's lethal control.
I looked at the King, the man I was fated to love, and saw only my executioner. The crushing devastation was complete.
I am a tool? Fine. I nodded once, slowly. "I understand, Your Majesty."
But my internal monologue was a scream of defiance: He has given me the keys to his kingdom. I will use his resources, his robes, his guards, and his war room to survive his plan. You may have claimed me, Demetrius, but the moment you stop looking, I will start fighting.
The fake marriage was a death sentence, and my resolve was now locked in. I would not only guide his army, but
I would use this golden cage to save myself.