Page 83 of Full Moon
"How should I know? I've never been here before—" The words die in my throat as realization hits me. The bond. Of course.
I take a deep breath and walk to the first hallway, extending my senses toward the warm pulse of Feray's presence in the back of my mind. Nothing. I shake my head and move to the next one, then the third, seeking the path that feels right—the invisible thread that connects me to my mate no matter how far apart we are.
"That was silly," Khal teases, giving me a playful shove that nearly knocks me off balance. His laughter echoes off the stone walls, breaking some of the tension that's been building in my chest.
"I forgot, okay? Too much heavy stuff weighing on my mind at the moment." I shake off the embarrassment and follow my instincts down the fourth corridor, trusting the pull that guides me forward with unwavering certainty.
I stepinto the grand dining room, and the rich scent of polished wood, candle wax, and roasting meat fills my lungs with warmth that chases away some of the chill that's settled into my bones. The hall is magnificent—high vaulted ceilings supported by massive timber beams carved with running wolves, walls adorned with tapestries depicting legendary hunts and ancient victories, and a fire crackling in a hearth large enough to roast an entire elk.
My gaze is immediately drawn to the head of the long table, where Easton and Feray sit side by side like a king and queen from the old stories. They exude a regal aura that makes even me want to bow, each wearing a gleaming diadem that catches thecandlelight and throws dancing reflections across the polished wood. Their posture is impeccable, their faces as serene and unreadable as statues carved from marble, and for a moment I barely recognize the woman I held sobbing in my arms just an hour ago.
This is the Luna the pack needs to see. The queen who will lead them through whatever darkness lies ahead. Feray notices us first, her ice-blue eyes meeting mine across the crowded room with a warmth that contradicts her cold expression. With a subtle nudge to Easton's arm, she gestures to the empty seats at her left.
As we approach, her smile widens just enough for us to see, a warm contrast to the room's formality. "Tor, Khal, then Diaval—in order of bonding," she announces, a playful shrug accompanying her words that tells me she's found some equilibrium in the time we were apart.
I understand the unspoken logic behind the arrangement. Easton should technically be seated to Diaval's left given the dragon's seniority, but the politics of her position require Feray to appear married to Easton—a wolf mate that the pack can accept without question. It's the lesser of two evils; otherwise, she would be pressured to marry another royal or an alpha from another pack. Better to keep these things in house, where we can control the narrative.
"My queen..." A deep voice fills the room as an older man enters through a side door, his gray hair swept back from a weathered face that speaks of decades spent in service. He bows deeply, showing respect without meeting her eyes—the proper deference for addressing a Luna. Feray's gaze flickers to her aunt, seeking guidance in this unfamiliar social landscape.
"Beta Jurian, always a pleasure to see you," Astrid says smoothly, her voice carrying just enough information for Feray to work with.
"Welcome, Beta Jurian," Feray replies without missing a beat, her chin held high and her face betraying no emotion despite the rapid learning curve she's navigating. "Is there something you need of me?"
"The yearly hunt and celebration happens in two days, my queen. Will you be leading the hunt?" He bows again, his eyes fixed on the floor in deference.
Feray's eyes sweep over us, calculating and considering. Khal and I exchange a glance, both of us knowing we lack the speed and endurance required to keep pace with a pack of wolves hunting across the frozen tundra. The only ones capable of matching that pace are Diaval and Easton, who could simply fly above the chase.
Feray turns to her aunt, who nods with an encouraging smile that indicates her own participation alongside her family. "Yes, I will lead the hunt with my aunt's assistance," Feray declares, her voice ringing with confidence that echoes softly through the hall.
Beta Jurian straightens, nodding to each of us in turn before retreating through the door he entered. As he leaves, Feray turns to Astrid with curiosity brightening her features. "Tell me about this hunt."
Astrid's eyes light up with excitement, the kind of enthusiasm that comes from discussing beloved traditions. "We do it once a year during the hunter's moon, when the world is illuminated day and night by the sun that never fully sets. The light paintseverything in shades of gold and rose, and the wolves run for hours without tiring."
She shares a look with her mate before continuing, her voice taking on the cadence of someone sharing ancient lore. "There is a herd of giant moose that crosses the tundra annually—magnificent creatures, some standing fifteen feet at the shoulder with antlers that span wider than this table. We time our hunt with their migration, intercepting them at the narrowest point of their crossing."
"How many moose does the pack usually kill each hunt?" I ask, taking a sip of the cool, refreshing water before me.
"We aim for two to three, but given their size and ferocity, we're fortunate if we manage to take down one." She glances down at her plate, absently pushing a meatball around with her fork. "To properly feed the pack through the harshest part of winter, we need four. It would make life significantly easier if we could stockpile that much meat." Her gaze lifts to meet Feray's, hope flickering in her eyes like a candle flame. "Maybe this year will go better."
Feray's eyes move over each of us with the sharp, calculating look of a general surveying her troops before battle. When her gaze finally settles on Easton, there's something almost predatory in her expression that makes me shiver despite the warmth of the fire.
"I believe this year four will fall without fail," she says, and her laugh is a sound both melodious and slightly wicked as she looks between Khal and me. "I can drive the moose into an ambush point while the pack harries them from behind. Torben can help take at least one down with his bear's strength, and Khal is skilled enough with weapons to drop another from a distance."
Her eyes move fondly between Easton and Diaval, glinting with a mix of affection and mischief that tells me she's already envisioning fire and fury raining from the sky. "I won't bust out the big guns unless needed. But it's nice to have them in reserve."
"Can someone supply us with a map of the area?" I ask, looking at Bjorn, who nods immediately.
"I'll bring the most current one to your chambers after dinner, and we can talk strategy then." Bjorn's presence is as solid and imposing as the mountains surrounding the territory—broad shoulders, confident demeanor, the bearing of a man who has fought many battles and won most of them.
"Perfect, thank you." I raise my glass to him just as the servers arrive, carrying the second course to the table along with steins of dark, foamy beer. The rich aroma of roasted meat fills the air, mingling with the earthy scent of ale.
I take a deep sip, the cool liquid refreshing against the warmth of the fire-lit hall, and let my curiosity get the better of me. "How many wolves live in this pack? I've never seen so many in one area—back in Briarvale, we have perhaps three if we count Feray in that total."
Bjorn's expression shifts, shadows gathering in his eyes as old memories surface. "Before the disappearance of Lyra, our pack was almost seven hundred strong." He focuses intently on the stein he holds, the amber liquid reflecting dimly in the candlelight. "We're just under that number now. Many of our scouts went looking for Lyra and Claridon after they vanished, searching every corner of these mountains for any sign of their Luna and her mate."
He lifts his gaze to meet Feray's, searching for understanding or maybe absolution. "None of them ever returned. We always assumed the worst—that they'd been killed by whatever took your parents. But now I wonder if the cavern simply wouldn't open for them once they exited on the other side."
"More than likely, that is what happened," Feray responds, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. "We didn't find any bodies between the cavern and Silver Falls, which means they made it through. But what they found on the other side..."
