Selena POV
But before I could give voice to the treason, the High Priest raised the Moonstone Chalice.
A beam of pure, silver light shot from the stone.
It was supposed to find me.
Arthur and I had sworn it to each other years ago.
But the man on the throne raised his hand.
A strange, dark mist curled around his fingers.
The silver light twisted in the air and landed on a girl standing in the corner.
It was Diana.
She was a low-level Omega from the fishing villages.
The rustle of silk and the murmur of courtiers ceased, leaving a vacuum of absolute stillness.
Diana gasped, covering her mouth with delicate hands.
The man who looked like my Arthur rose. He descended the velvet stairs, each footfall landing in the deadened silence, and then he fixed his gaze upon me, his eyes clouded with a possessive avarice that felt like a spider tracing its path across my skin.
"The Moon Goddess has spoken," he announced to the Pack.
His voice was loud, but it lacked the deep, resonant timbre of a true Alpha.
"Diana is my chosen Luna."
Whispers broke out among the noble families.
He turned his gaze to me.
"Selena," he said, his voice lacquered with a false pity.
"You are a strong warrior. I still want you by my side."
He stepped closer to me.
"You will be my Chosen Mate. You will have my bed, even if you do not have the title."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
A knot of revulsion tightened deep in my stomach, so visceral it nearly made me retch.
Princess Beatrice, Arthur's younger sister, stepped forward.
A flush of crimson stained her throat and cheeks.
"How dare you!" Beatrice shouted.
"Selena is a Gamma! She is a noble warrior, not a cheap mistress!"
Diana immediately shrank behind the Alpha.
The air grew thick with the scent of peaches so ripe they bordered on fermented, a sweetness that cloyed the back of the throat until even the candlelight seemed to turn turbid, as tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I am sorry, Princess," Diana sobbed. "I did not mean to steal the Goddess's blessing."
Beatrice's eyes flashed yellow.
She was about to shift into her wolf form right there in the ballroom.
My fingers closed around Beatrice's arm, the pressure a silent command.
"Do not waste your energy, Bea," I said calmly.
Without sparing Diana a single glance, I kept my eyes locked on the man wearing Arthur's face, then turned my back on the throne and strode toward the castle balcony.
The cool night air was a clean cloth wiping away the ballroom's stench. Beatrice followed me outside, the heavy glass doors closing behind us with a muffled thud.
Selena, something is wrong with my brother, Beatrice's voice echoed in my mind.
It was our Mind-Link, the sacred mental connection shared by pack members.
He does not feel like family anymore, she added, her mental voice trembling.
I know, I replied through the link. His scent is wrong. The soul-bond is dead. I felt nothing when he touched the Chalice—nothing but rot.
I remembered when we were children.
I had fought off three wandering Rogues to protect Beatrice and Arthur.
Later, an assassin had thrown a silver dagger at me.
Arthur had jumped in front of me.
The silver had burned a deep, ugly scar into his chest.
That was the boy I loved. Not the stranger inside.
The glass doors opened.
The fake Arthur walked onto the balcony.
"Leave us, Beatrice," he ordered.
Beatrice glared at him but walked away.
He leaned against the stone railing, looking at me with hungry eyes.
"Don't be stubborn, Selena," he whispered.
"Diana will just be a pretty face for the public. You will control the Pack's army. You will rule the castle behind closed doors."
I looked at him with cold eyes.
"A daughter of the Gamma family does not bow to anyone," I said.
"I will never be your shadow."
