When The Moon Remembers

Chapter 7: Veiled Threats

Elowen’s Pov

The words hung in the air like a blade caught mid-swing.

“She said she didn’t do it!”

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. The court’s murmur stilled, every gaze shifting from the King’s third son to me. Even my father’s lips pressed into a tighter line, as though Vaelric’s defense was a stain on the room. I had not expected anyone to speak for me—least of all him.

His voice had been cold, clipped, as if he’d rather not be saying the words at all. And yet… there had been something in his eyes when I looked up. Something sharp enough to cut through my fear. Recognition? No. Impossible.

The King said something—my mind barely caught it—and then the session was dismissed. I kept my head down, every step out of the throne room feeling heavier than the last. Still, the echo of Vaelric’s voice followed me into the corridors, curling around my thoughts like smoke I could not wave away.

Outside, waiting for the carriage while trying to piece together what had happened in the court, last night suddenly made sense.

The thud I’d heard… it had to have been Kaelen. The night ended without me seeing him again, but what could Vaelric have done to him?

The sharp crunch of boots on gravel cut through my thoughts. I looked up. He was moving toward me—each step deliberate, his gaze unreadable. I opened my mouth, ready to thank him… to demand the answers clawing at me.

But his voice came first.

Low. Even. Unshakably certain.

“Stay out of my sight… if you value what’s left of your peace.”

The meaning slid into me like a blade. This wasn’t advice—it was a sentence. In that moment, I understood why people only spoke his name in whispers.

Fear gripped me, cold and tight. The Prince hadn’t merely dismissed me—he’d drawn a line in blood.

That was all. He turned to leave.

But I was bold—or foolish—enough to speak.

“What did you do to him?” I asked, trying to hide the knot tightening in my belly.

He paused mid-step, as if surprised I’d dared to address him.

“Little fox—”

“I am not a fox,” I cut in, the words bursting out with a courage that startled even me.

“Neither are you a wolf.” The statement fell like a blow, his tone a deliberate reminder of my lack.

He stepped forward. I stepped back.

The space between us shrank, yet his words did the most damage. They weren’t just facts—they were mockery.

“So you are a little fox,” he went on, voice low, dangerous. “And you must not appear before me again… else you know what wolves do to foxes.”

It was a threat—clear as the cold air between us—but my mouth betrayed me before reason could stop it.

“The wolves never welcomed you…” I hesitated, but the urge to finish was too strong. “…so that makes us both outcasts.”

Something flared in his eyes—fury, pure and unrestrained.

Before I could blink, his hand was around my throat, lifting me off my feet. His grip was iron, cutting off breath, crushing sound. My nails dug into his wrist, useless against his strength.

His gaze burned from silver to crimson in a heartbeat—an unnatural flash that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Then he released me, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

He was gone before my next blink, leaving only the echo of his presence and the ache in my neck.

That was the benefit of what he was—swift, inhuman, untouchable.

I clutched my throat, the bruising already blooming beneath my fingers. My mother appeared at my side, helping me up. So she’d been lingering nearby, watching—but unable to intervene.

I suppose this was one matter beyond the reach of her pleading.

“I’m fine, Mother,” I murmured as she helped me up and toward the waiting carriage.

“Be careful with him,” she warned softly. “One moment he’s saving you, the next he’s killing you.” Her grip tightened on my arm as she guided me inside.

I sank into the seat, the weight of the court’s stares still clinging to me, the cursed prince’s grip lingering like a bruise on my soul. And Mother was right—one moment he saves, the next, he destroys.

“What did you do to him?” she asked suddenly. “I’ve only heard the rumors… and for a time, I doubted them. Until he almost strangled you, my red wolf.”

I wasn’t sure which hurt more—his hand at my throat or her calling me that name again. Red wolf. The title felt like a mockery now.

I didn’t answer. Silence settled between us, but Mother filled it anyway, taking my hands into hers the way she always did when she thought she could protect me by touch alone. Father and Aedric hadn’t bothered to join us.

“But we owe him, at least, a thank you,” she went on. “For saving you twice. Did you hear the command in his voice when he spoke? Did you see the king’s face? Even the king fears his own breed.”

Sometimes, the worst part of the ride home was that it left me alone with her words.

By the time the carriage rattled into the courtyard, dusk had painted the manor in gold and shadow. I stepped down with Mother’s help, eager to retreat to my chambers before anyone could ask questions.

But Serenya was already waiting. Perfect hair, perfect gown, perfect smile — and the glint in her eyes that meant nothing good. A cluster of visiting noblewomen lingered nearby, sipping tea under the veranda. Their laughter hushed as Serenya’s gaze swept to me.

“Oh, dearest sister,” she said, her tone sugar-sweet, carrying just enough to reach every ear in the garden. “I heard you were summoned to court. Alone. How… unusual.”

My jaw tightened, but she glided closer before I could respond.

“And to think,” she went on, fingertips brushing my sleeve like a doting sibling, “the cursed prince himself speaking in your defense. Twice now, if whispers are to be believed. You must tell me what sort of… acquaintance you share.”

The way she lingered on that last word drew a ripple of murmurs from her audience.

“There is no—” I began, but she leaned in, her perfume cloying.

“Careful, Elowen,” she murmured just for me, her smile never faltering. “In this house, the wrong rumor can make you a ghost before you’re dead.”

Then she stepped back, her gaze sliding to the watching noblewomen. “Pray excuse my sister,” Serenya said lightly. “She’s had quite the… eventful day.”

Their curious stares followed me as I brushed past her, my pulse hammering. She had done it — sown the first seed. And I knew Serenya well enough to know it would not be the last.