When The Moon Remembers

Chapter 4: The Sapphire and The Green

Elowen’s Pov

Sunlight spilled through the high arched windows as I walked the castle’s long hallway, the morning warmth glinting off polished stone. Beyond the glass, the lands stretched toward the horizon—forests, rivers, and mountains touched by the blessing of the Moon Goddess herself. A soft breeze slipped in through a cracked pane, teasing strands of my hair free from the careful work of the handmaid who had combed it only moments ago.

Two maids crossed my path. They slowed, eyes flicking toward me—first curiosity, then that familiar, ugly whisper in their expressions. Their voices dropped as soon as I passed.

How dare they.

Still, I was determined not to let their pettiness spoil my mood. Mother would be in the courtyard at this hour, and I wanted to see her. But as I passed Aedric’s chamber, a sound caught my ear—his voice, raised in irritation.

“…I said go!”

The door flew open. A woman—beautiful, but with the delicate fragility of someone unused to true hardship—hurried out, clutching her gown to her chest. She brushed past me without so much as a glance, disappearing down the corridor like a shadow chased by the sun.

A new face. Aedric never lacked for such company.

I stepped into the doorway just as my brother turned, adjusting the collar of his tunic as though nothing had happened.

“Elowen,” he greeted, his tone careful, ignoring the fact that I had plainly seen the woman flee.

I dipped in a small bow—awkward thanks to the corset biting into my ribs—and offered a faint smile. “I haven’t seen my brother in some time. Perhaps… you’ve been avoiding me? Maybe you think less of me now that I never wolfed out. Maybe I’m unworthy of brotherly affection.”

A flicker—there and gone—in his expression. Guilt. Regret.

“I would never do such a thing, Wen,” he said quietly. “Just… duty calls.”

Duty. As if that excused the way he’d stood in Mother’s path, keeping her from reaching me when I needed her most. If not for the cursed lycan—my so-called savior—I might have died while my own brother blocked the only person who would have fought for me.

I forced a smile, though it tasted like ash. The words I wanted to hurl at him burned on my tongue, but I swallowed them. Some betrayals deserved to rot in silence, if only because speaking them aloud would make them real.

I bowed one last time before exiting, forcing out a polite, “Have a nice day.”

In my head, it meant, May your day be as wretched as you deserve.

Because I hated them—the way they hated me. I had to. I’d taught myself to.

“Sometimes we could practice archery together, like the old days,” he called after me.

Perhaps he meant the days before he started sneaking courtesans into his chambers, before ambition became his true mistress. Before he began praying for Father’s death so he could claim the title he craved.

Or maybe he’d forgotten sending his pregnant wife away—banishing her to her hometown because he “couldn’t stand” her moods. Even Mother’s pleas hadn’t softened him.

Aedric, the gentleman? No. He was a wolf dressed in fine armor.

I didn’t look back. I just kept walking—away from his voice, and away from the rot he called honor.

I stepped into Mother’s chamber, greeted by the mingled scents of roses and vanilla. The walls, dressed in deep red and dark wood, radiated a heavy sort of elegance. I had always disliked it—too suffocating, too solemn. My own chambers bloomed with painted florals; this felt like a room that had forgotten how to breathe.

Serenya stood near the window with Mirelda, the seamstress, sifting through an array of gowns in jewel tones and gold-threaded silks. Strange—Mother only summoned Mirelda for new collections on weekends.

Mother’s face lit the moment she saw me.

“My little red wolf, you’re awake,” she said warmly, the nickname dripping with the same affection it once held in the old days. But now it felt like a memory trying to disguise itself as truth. The air tightened around us when she said it, the weight of my wolfless state pressing in until Serenya’s soft scoff cracked through. Mother shot her a glare, but the damage was done.

“I’ll never be a wolf again,” I said plainly, bowing in greeting.

“But you will always be unique,” Mirelda offered with her gentle smile—the kind that tried to be kind, but always carried the faint taste of pity.

Mother’s gaze slid toward her seamstress, a silent reminder this was a family conversation. Mirelda adjusted uncomfortably, folding her hands.

“This one, Mother,” Serenya said, holding a sapphire gown against her frame, turning as though already imagining the court’s approval.

“That would be perfect for the ball,” Mother murmured.

“The ball?” I echoed, frowning.

“There is one tonight, Wen. Why else would I be choosing gowns for you at this hour?” Mother stepped forward, holding up a deep green gown. She draped it against me, her eyes lighting when she saw the fit.

“See? I knew it would suit you—your hair will blaze against it beautifully.” She glanced between Serenya and Mirelda, as if inviting their agreement. Serenya rolled her eyes. Mirelda nodded politely.

“I don’t want to go,” I said. “I’ll be the center of attention.”

“Nonsense,” Mother replied, adjusting the gown on my shoulder. “The girl who never wolfed out yet was still chosen by the Moon Goddess—that is who you are. You must not let whispers cage you.” She squeezed my hand, warm and firm.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s an outcast,” Serenya said, smoothing her own gown’s bodice as if polishing her cruelty.

“Elowen is one of us,” Mother snapped, “and no different from us.”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Serenya said lightly. “And if she comes tonight, people will only whisper louder. Maybe she should be locked up like—”

“You should try this gown,” Mirelda cut in, her voice just a shade too quick. She handed Serenya a soft lilac dress, deftly removing the sapphire one from her grasp.

“No,” Serenya said sharply, snatching the sapphire gown back.

Mother’s hand brushed through my hair, her smile soft but touched with pity. “It’s all right. I’ll speak to your sister.”

But I didn’t want her pity or her promises. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why the Moon Goddess had singled me out—not to bless me, but to make me something strange, something incomplete.

By the time our gowns were chosen, Serenya still clung stubbornly to the sapphire one, and I had surrendered to the green dress Mother had picked for me. I only wished there were some discreet way to escape tonight’s ball entirely.

Evening settled quickly, and as I finished dressing, the door opened without a knock—Serenya’s usual habit. She stepped in, voice bright with her announcement: “The carriage is ready.”

She’d been doing that for years, and somehow it grated more each time.

She looked radiant in the sapphire gown, her chestnut hair falling in loose waves, hazel eyes catching the candlelight. The corset cinched her waist to perfection, and though she was undeniably beautiful, her heart—at least toward me—remained carved from stone.

“Help me with my corset, Sera,” I said, resigned to the lack of other options. To my surprise, she stepped behind me without a word of complaint.

“You think Kaelis will find me beautiful in this?” she asked, her tone light but edged with something I couldn’t quite name.

“He’s never been able to resist you, Sera.”

When I glanced over my shoulder, she was turning away, as though hiding the warmth in her cheeks. And in that moment, I wished—foolishly—that things were different between us.

But tonight, under the palace chandeliers, there would be no room for sisterly wishes—only masks, whispers, and the wolves who wore them too well.