Astrid did not move immediately. The kind of woman who learns early that one wrong step near someone about to break becomes a sentence.
She closed the door to the art room with excessive care. The click echoed too loudly.
—I arrived less than an hour ago, Your Majesty, — she said, voice firm but tense like a drawn bowstring. —The letter was delivered by a Beta of the North Border pack. He did not enter the hall. He was injured. Not gravely, but… terrified enough to be unable to lie.
She swallowed hard.
—He said the Forest of Incandescent Stars was violated at night. There was no lunar alarm. That is what concerns me most. The sentinels heard nothing. No howls. No magical rupture detected.
Astrid drew a deep breath before continuing. A common mistake. Elizabeth noticed. She always noticed.
—Blood was found in the white rose beds, yes. Not in battle quantity. In drag quantity. As if someone had been taken alive… or nearly.
Silence.
Safira emerged sharply—not as blind fury, but something far worse. Predatory lucidity.
—This blood… — the wolf closed her eyes, sniffing for something not physically present. —It is not all hers. But there are traces. Small. Diluted. Arabella bled, but she did not die.
The following pause was cruel.
—However, — Safira continued — there is another scent layered over it. Rust. Burnt resin. And something that reeks of broken magic. Lunar mercenaries do not use this. This is the work of renegades who were once Lycan… and were expelled.
Astrid clenched her fists.
—The caravan through the Solari Mountains is slow. Heavy blizzard in the eastern gorge. Even forcing the march, it will take two days to reach safe passage. Winged messengers cannot cross that storm.
She lifted her gaze to Elizabeth, direct, without softening.
—If you wish to depart immediately, you will have to do so with reduced escort—or alone.
Safira growled low, contained, each word like a blade.
—They touched what is ours. Our child. Our blood. —Her voice vibrated inside Elizabeth's mind. —Say the word, and I will paint the Solari Mountains in eternal silence.
Astrid stepped back. Not out of fear. Out of respect.
—Your Majesty… — she said cautiously — this is not just a kidnapping. It is political provocation. They know where you are. They know the Lycan King is away. They know that touching Arabella is pulling you by the neck.
The air in the room seemed colder now. The paintings on the walls creaked lightly, as if the entire castle was holding its breath.
Safira concluded, without emotion.
—Sanity or destruction, Elizabeth. Both cannot reside in the same body for long.
And, for the first time since the arrival of the letter, there was no doubt.
Someone had just declared war on the Moon. And it was expected that her daughter would sit quietly at a banquet.
But in the hall, something—or rather someone—entered. A young woman.
—From the Lunar Plains, the Vice-General of the Cavalry of Blood and Light, the sacred Knight Leónia of House Pattinson!
When the woman entered, she was not a lady in silk, feathers, or lace. She was a woman, 1.90 meters tall, dark silver hair pulled above her helm, posture erect, right hand on the hilt of her lunar-forged iron sword, Arcadia.
The reins in her arms gleamed silver, like melted moon dust.
Her armor was forged crystal from the sacred forge. Black faded into deep blue. Her eyes were sharp, shadowed orange. She was known as the Lycan Princess' Hound.
The figure that appeared when darkness seemed to suffocate the most human.
Her arrival was not a bow but a portent that something greater was at play.
—Salutations to the rulers of this kingdom.
She declared her reverence as she stopped before the central banquet table in front of the royal couple.
The energy she emanated was oppressive, forcing some Omegas and Betas to lean on partners; upon the table, the warrior's sanguine beauty made her all the more savage.
—Alpha Theodor.
She turned to the fiancé and beloved of her lady, bringing her hand to her chest in a formal, respectful salute. Before looking at her height, only a few centimeters shorter than his, almost at eye level with him.
—I have come to escort Princess Renesmee Elizabeth, daughter of the Lycan King.
She announced it, allowing Theodor to finish the salute.
—I am sorry that I must take your betrothed in the midst of the banquet.
She stated, voice void of emotion, repeating protocol like a weapon.
—The Princess' return is required at the Sol of Midnight, as the King is trapped in a terrible blizzard in the Solari Mountains.
The hall could not breathe. It choked.
Glasses froze midair, lyres went off key, the twin singers fell silent, as if someone had ripped their breath away with bare hands. The name Pattinson landed too heavily to ignore. That house sent no one on whim—they sent sentences with legs.
The Queen Mother was the first to react. Not with panic. With calculation.
She straightened her spine on the throne, long fingers closing over the black oak armrest. Her eyes, golden from the ancient sun, scanned Leónia's armor with surgical attention. Recognition. And something near discomfort.
—Vice-General Pattinson… — she said, measuring each syllable. —Your presence honors and unsettles this table in equal measure.
The King beside her frowned. An aged Alpha, still powerful, but aware when the board shifts without permission.
—If the Cavalry of Blood and Light moves, — he added — then something has already bled far from here.
Murmurs grew like fungus in damp wood.
—Trapped in the Solari Mountains? —The Lycan King? —Personal escort? —In the midst of the banquet?
The lesser houses exchanged glances. Betas whispered with wide eyes. Omegas clutched protective necklaces to their chests. The elite understood unspoken codes, and this one was too clear.
Theodor rose.
Not abruptly. Not theatrically. But swiftly enough to signal that the ground beneath his feet had just cracked.
He faced Leónia a second longer than protocol allowed. Not in challenge. In impact.
—The Princess' personal escort does not move without her direct authorization… — he said, voice firm, yet compressed. —Or without a concrete threat to the lunar throne.
He felt the hall watching. Felt the weight of his own title slipping through his fingers.
—Where is Elizabeth? — he finally asked.
Before any answer came, a short, venomous laugh cut the air.
Dandara.
She was standing now, far too close to the table, hands clasped before her like an offended saint. The pink dress seemed out of place in that climate of steel and blood.
—This all seems… exaggerated, — she said, far too sweetly. —Interrupting a sacred banquet, alarming entire kingdoms, just because the caravan was delayed?
Some nodded instinctively. Others held their breath. That phrase was a gamble too high.
The temple priest did not wait.
—Silence, Omega. — His voice was dry, without reverence. —When Pattinson appears, it is not the weather that matters. It is what the weather tried to hide.
The council stirred. One elder stood, cane striking the floor.
—Alpha Theodor, — he said solemnly — if the Princess must depart, the Dawn Kingdom needs to know if this is a strategic retreat… or the prelude to war.
All eyes turned to him now.
Not to Leónia. Not to Dandara. Not to the throne.
To the Alpha who, for the first time that night, seemed too small for his own seat.
And in the back of the hall, as if the castle had heard the Princess' name too many times, the torches flickered pale blue.
Moon answering Moon.
The banquet was officially dead. The real game had begun.
—There will be no Alpha escort.
The words fell colder than a mountain fall.
—I will be the Princess' sole escort!
She announced it, not with grandeur, but as Death stating that reaping was far too simple.
—By now, Astrid must have delivered the letter updating the Princess on the last 24 hours of events in the Lunar Mountains.
She turned to Dandara, eyes scanning the girl from head to toe, hand returning to the sword hilt.
—This is not about timing. The Lycan King is in a severe climatic situation. It can happen to any escort.
Yet she turned to Theodor.
—All that can be said, with permission of the sacred temple and the Sol of Midnight council, is that the life of the second Princess Arabella is at stake.
She concluded, giving no further information.
It was then that the side door Elizabeth had left through with Astrid opened, revealing the Princess—not in the immaculate dress, nor adorned with jewelry worn in reverence.
—This confirms the contents of the letter, Leónia!
The wolf's voice was like dragged gravel. She wore riding clothes of black, deep blue, and blood red, with a white cloak bearing a phoenix wrapping around an open pomegranate between its feathers.
—Your Highness!
The knight turned, stopping five steps away. She knelt, sword between her hands, bowing like a knight taking an oath.
—Your mount, the Sacred Griffin, awaits.
The Sacred Griffin was her war horse—a unicorn bloodline, the last wild horse of Eclipse Mountain.
Elizabeth gestured for her to rise, and in heavy steps, as if gravity had vanished, followed Theodor and then her future in-laws.
—I am sorry, but I must return to the Lunar Mountain, — she announced, closing the maneuver with ivory dragon-tooth grips in her arms.
—An attack on the palace occurred after my father left, and as heir, being the only pure-blood Lycan, the council and temple require a pillar to rely upon.
She turned to Theodor, and he could see a fury that had never before touched the sweet eyes of his fiancée.
—They took Arabella, Theo… With my father absent, my presence is not a request but a call for leadership.
She held his hands, voice low, only for him to hear, concealing the information so it would not spread.
—I will return for our celebration, but first, I have a sister to rescue and wolves to rend.
She sighed, resting her forehead against his.
—Keep everyone at the feast, cancel nothing, follow everything as planned, and I will do my best to return before the flowers change direction.
She murmured softly, even as her pheromones screamed thirst for blood.
—Show me that my Alpha can govern even when his Luna is not watching from afar.
She stepped back, never breaking eye contact with him.