It began as a thin silver mist beyond the tall hall windows, drifting softly across the courtyard stones. Gradually, the mist thickened into steady rain, until the stone paths gleamed dark beneath the downpour and the torches along the walls hissed faintly in the damp air.
Just as I was sorting the last of the ledgers on my desk, the moonstone at my wrist warmed, glowing faintly with Lucian’s summons.
I paused for a moment before answering.
The moment I opened the connection, his voice came through, low and impatient.
“You’re finished at the hall, aren’t you? Come to the healer’s den and bring us home.”
He spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
As though the future Luna should go out into the rain to fetch him and Rosalie.
As though I were some omega servant to be summoned whenever he pleased.
As though the humiliation of yesterday had never happened at all.
I almost laughed.
“There is a feast tonight for the stewards,” I said evenly. “I do not know when it will end.”
There was a brief pause, as though he had not expected refusal.
“You can bring us back first and return afterward.”
My fingers tightened slightly around the moonstone.
“You can ask for a carriage.”
Then I cut the connection.
I did not care whether he was angry.
That evening, I remained at the hall and shared supper with several stewards I was on good terms with. The long table glowed warmly with firelight, and cups of spiced wine passed easily from hand to hand. Someone told a story about a patrol captain slipping into the river during drills, and laughter rippled down the table.
For the first time in days, I smiled without effort.
The warmth of the hall, the quiet camaraderie, and the absence of tension felt strangely unfamiliar—yet comforting.
By the time I returned home, the rain had softened to a gentle drizzle. Water still clung to the eaves, dripping steadily into the courtyard below.
It was already late.
When I stepped inside, Lucian was sitting on the sofa in the front room, one arm resting along the back, his posture stiff.
He turned the moment he heard the door.
“Why are you back so late?”
I did not answer. I set aside my cloak, changed my damp shoes, and washed my hands at the basin near the entrance. My limbs ached with weariness, and the faint scent of rain clung to my clothes.
All I wanted was to return to my room, bathe, and sleep.