Eclipse Throne

Chapter Nine: Poison Vines and Borrowed Blades

Deep within the western wing of Moonshadow Keep, a hidden terrace lay veiled beneath cascading arches of moonlit roses in full bloom. The night was thick as ink, broken only by the faint halos cast by a few fluorite lamps embedded in ancient obsidian columns. Their pale, flickering glow barely illuminated the center—a wrought-iron table and chairs, ornate with curling vines and weathered filigree.

There, seated upon one of the cold iron chairs, was Faye Silvershadow.

The elaborate gowns that signified her station by day were long shed. In their place, she wore a deep violet velvet hunting suit, tailored to her lithe, strong frame. Her golden hair, usually cascading in regal curls, was now twisted into a tight coil secured by a silver hairpin inlaid with slivers of obsidian, exposing the slender vulnerability of her neck. She clutched the moonstone pendant at her throat, its jagged edges digging cruelly into her soft palm—painful, yet not half as searing as the venomous fire that burned within her chest.

“Are you certain?” Her voice was low, almost inaudible, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed the storm within. Her emerald eyes, cold and fixed, locked upon the figure cloaked in the dense shadows of the trellis—her most trusted agent, the commander of her family’s deepest intelligence web: codename Night Owl.

Clad in custom-forged leathers that swallowed light, his face was hidden behind a half-mask of burnished steel, only his glacial eyes visible—emotionless, unreadable. He bowed slightly, his voice a hoarse rasp, like dry bone dragged across stone. “Without a doubt, my lady. I personally maintained position beyond the perimeter of the energy disturbance, using a mirror of spell-forged silver. At the peak of the blood moon, a blast erupted atop Blackstone Tower—unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Holy moonlight clashed with raw annihilation. This was no mere werewolf’s loss of control.” He paused. A rare quiver entered his tone. “The mirror… showed the prisoner engulfed in blinding lunar radiance, her skin veined with ancient silver markings that pulsed like molten rivers. And on her brow—a crescent mark, radiant beyond imagining.”

A crescent mark.

The Moonborn.

Faye’s breath caught violently, as though an invisible hand had seized her heart and clenched without mercy. The last flicker of hopeful denial was shattered by that ironclad truth.

That creature—filthy, low-born, caked in blood and filth—was the legendary Moonborn. The living vessel of the lunar goddess’s divine power.

No wonder… No wonder His Majesty Adrian had acted so strangely. Why he had rebuked her, why he had warned her father. Why he had dared refer to that wretched she-wolf as the thing inside the cage.

Every contradiction, every cold silence—now had a reason. That cursed wretch, by virtue of one damned mark, had stolen everything that should have belonged to her, Faye Silvershadow. She had seized His Majesty’s attention. She had snatched away the only hope Faye had of becoming Luna—of saving her mother.

Jealousy, raw and all-consuming, twisted through her like poisoned thorns. Humiliation carved into her bones. She—Faye of House Silvershadow—descendant of a noble bloodline, trained from birth in the most refined courtly arts, forged through sacrifice and suffering to stand at the side of the Alpha King… and now, undone by a discarded mongrel? A rogue wolf abandoned by her own kind?

Because of a cursed mark?

Because of fate?

The Moon’s justice was a mockery. Destiny, a knife.

“She must die!” The words tore from her lips, warped and shrill with hatred. Her emerald eyes blazed with a venomous, glacial fire. “Night Owl! Listen to me. Whatever it takes—whatever the cost—I want her gone. Erased from Blackstone Tower, from the court, from this world! I want her heart, frozen and delivered to me—intact!”

Her final words rang out like a scream—a raw cry that stripped away her pretense, exposing the primal, desperate truth: she needed the heart to save her mother.

Night Owl flinched imperceptibly behind his mask. Her loss of control unsettled him.

“My lady, you must remain calm.” His tone remained composed, clinical. “Blackstone Tower is under maximum lockdown. Lord Cain commands its defenses personally. After the loss of the Shadowfang Guard, His Majesty has summoned his most elite deathsworn to replace them—rotating in shifts, patrolling without pause. The tower’s walls are etched with ancient wards and sigils. A direct assault is suicide.”

“Then find another way!” Faye surged to her feet, her coat sweeping across the cold stone like a serpent’s hiss. “Poison her! Stage an accident! Bribe a guard! Anywhere there are humans, there are cracks in the wall. I don’t care what you use—lies, knives, rot. A month? No. Too long. I give you two weeks! Within that time, I want her dead. I want her heart—sealed in ice!”

The urgency of saving her mother burned away all reason.

“My lady…” Night Owl hesitated, his voice tightening. “His Majesty’s attention to the tower exceeds all precedent. The guards are Cain’s personal selections—deathsworn born to serve House Blackmane. Mira herself oversees the prisoner. Loyal beyond price. Bribery is impossible. Poison—every food and drop of water is handled by a sealed chain, inspected by multiple teams and passed through arcane detection. As for accidents—the cell is bare stone. No tools. No shadows. And outside… an iron wall of watchful eyes.”

He paused, eyes narrowing beneath his mask.

“And forgive me, my lady—but from my own observation under the blood moon… that prisoner is no ordinary foe. Her power, when it surfaced… would have razed the tower to ash. Lord Cain and the Shadowfang nearly perished. Should we strike and fail, the fallout would be catastrophic. Not only would His Majesty’s wrath descend upon us… but your intentions would be exposed. The consequences…”

He let the final word hang, heavy with implication. Not just disgrace. Not just death.

Her mother’s final hope—gone forever.

Faye’s body trembled. Her manicured nails dug into her palm, drawing blood. Night Owl’s cold logic doused her burning rage like a bucket of snow and steel. And yet… beneath the surface, the root of her hatred only dug deeper.

She sat back down, shoulders heaving, eyes glittering like poison-laced emeralds.

A frontal strike was too risky. The cost—too great.

Then there was only one path left.

Let another do the killing.

Use the tiger to devour the wolf.

A cruel, glacial idea coiled in her mind like a serpent waking from hibernation. Her lips curved into a slow, poisonous smile.

“The Moonshadow Pack…” Her voice was silken, slick with venom. “The ones who exiled her, who branded her a curse. What do you think they’d do—if they learned that their discarded disgrace is now a guest of honor? That the Alpha King shelters her in his strongest tower… and calls her the Moonborn?”

Night Owl’s eyes flared. Understanding dawned like black lightning.

Borrowed blades. Directed ruin.

“Brilliant, my lady,” he breathed, awe in his voice. “Their Alpha—Leo—is pride incarnate. He cast her out to preserve his image, injured her to stamp out shame. If he learns she’s not only alive but exalted, honored in the King’s shadow… He’ll stop at nothing to erase her. Even infiltrate the court.”

Faye’s smile deepened, sharp as a dagger kissed with frost.

“And the Moonshadow wolves—wild, proud, perched on the Black Forest’s edge—are not known for restraint. If they arrive cloaked in ‘justice,’ demanding the traitor be handed over, what will the elders say? What will His Majesty do? Yield and abandon her? Or risk war—for a rogue?”

She could see it now. Chaos. Pressure. Doubt.

Kill two birds. No—three.

Let Leo spill the blood.

Let the elders cast blame.

Let Adrian face a kingdom in uproar.

“Genius,” Night Owl whispered. “I will leak the truth to their scouts—covertly, without a trace leading back to House Silvershadow.”

“Do it,” Faye said coldly, reclining once more as shadows pooled across the terrace. Her green eyes gleamed with wicked anticipation. “Make it clean. I expect… good news. And remember: I want her heart.”

He bowed once more, then vanished into the rose-shadowed dark like a phantom of war.

Alone again, Faye uncurled her fingers. Blood marked her palm where the moonstone had bitten deep. She raised her gaze to the distant, brooding silhouette of Blackstone Tower, her lips parting in a slow, venom-laced smile.

“Moonborn? Fated mate?” she sneered, her voice the hiss of a serpent. “A discarded wretch scorned by her own kin dares lay claim to my throne? Adrian… I will show you who truly belongs at your side. Who carries noble blood. Who is Luna born.”

And her heart… shall be the key to my mother’s rebirth.

Power and love—twisted, inseparable—drew her ever deeper into the dark.