CHAPTER 4: Blood on white silk
1330 Words
The first guard reached for her wrist.
He never touched her.
Luna moved before contact could happen, her body reacting with a precision that had nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with memory. Her hand twisted sharply, catching his wrist mid-air, her grip firm and exact as she redirected his momentum forward. His balance broke instantly, his body folding in a way he did not expect as she stepped aside and drove her elbow into the back of his shoulder.
A sharp crack echoed.
He dropped.
Not dead.
But not standing again anytime soon.
The room exploded.
Gasps tore through the crowd, chairs scraping harshly against marble as nobles scrambled backward, the illusion of a controlled ceremony shattering completely. No one had expected that. Not from her. Not from the woman they had already decided was fragile, replaceable, easy to remove.
Luna released the guard without hesitation, stepping back into place as though nothing unusual had happened, her breathing steady, her expression unchanged.
The second guard lunged.
He came faster, smarter, blade already half-drawn, abandoning restraint the moment the first man fell. His movement was trained, efficient, aimed to end the situation quickly.
Luna saw every part of it.
She stepped in instead of away.
The motion alone caught him off guard.
Her hand snapped up, catching his wrist just as the blade cleared its sheath, redirecting it away from her body. At the same time, her knee drove upward with brutal accuracy, slamming into his midsection hard enough to force the air from his lungs.
He choked.
She didn’t stop.
Her grip shifted, twisting his arm at an angle it wasn’t meant to go, forcing him downward. The blade slipped from his fingers, clattering across the floor as she drove him into it, his body hitting the marble with a force that silenced him instantly.
Two down.
The silence that followed lasted less than a second.
Then chaos surged.
“She’s attacking the royal guard!”
“Stop her!”
“Is she insane…..”
The voices blurred together, rising into noise that no longer mattered.
Luna straightened slowly, her gaze lifting toward the altar again.
This time, the man who had once been her world was no longer just angry.
He was watching her.
Really watching her.
And for the first time……
He understood.
“You’ve been hiding this,” he said, his voice lower now, heavier, something darker threading through it. Not shock. Not confusion.
Recognition.
Luna met his gaze, something almost amused flickering behind her eyes.
“No,” she said quietly. “You just never looked closely enough.”
That answer hit deeper than any blade.
His expression hardened instantly, something cold and ruthless settling into place as whatever restraint he had been holding onto disappeared completely.
“Then you’ve made this easier,” he replied.
He moved.
Not like a prince.
Not like a man who relied on titles or commands.
But like something far more dangerous.
His hand went to his side, drawing steel in one smooth motion, the blade catching the light as it cleared. The air shifted with it, the tension snapping into something sharper, heavier, more real.
The crowd fell back even further.
Because now…..
They understood.
This was no longer a ceremony.
This was a battlefield.
He stepped down the last distance between them, his presence pressing forward with a force that demanded space, demanded submission, demanded acknowledgment.
“I was going to end this quietly,” he said, his voice calm, almost thoughtful as he approached. “You would have been removed, forgotten, and whatever remained of your reputation might have survived.”
His grip on the sword tightened slightly.
“But now,” he continued, stopping just a few steps away, “you’ve made yourself a threat.”
Luna didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t step back.
Something inside her stirred, not fear, not hesitation, but something sharper. Something that had been buried under years of betrayal and pain.
Something that had been waiting.
“You always needed a reason,” she said.
His eyes darkened.
“I never needed one.”
He struck.
Fast.
Brutal.
No warning.
The blade cut through the air with lethal precision, aimed not to scare, not to test, but to end.
Luna moved.
Not fast enough to dodge completely, but not slow enough to be caught.
The edge of the blade grazed her arm, slicing through fabric, drawing a thin line of red across her skin.
The pain registered.
She didn’t react to it.
Instead, she stepped inside his range, closing the distance he had expected to control. Her hand snapped up, catching his wrist mid-swing, halting the follow-through just enough to shift the direction of the blade.
Their bodies collided.
Close.
Too close.
For a split second, their eyes locked.
There was no love there.
No history.
Only recognition of what stood between them now.
Enemies.
Luna twisted sharply, forcing his arm to turn with her movement, redirecting his strength against him. It wasn’t enough to disarm him, but it was enough to disrupt his balance.
And that was all she needed.
Her other hand drove forward, striking hard against his ribs.
The impact landed.
But he didn’t fall.
Didn’t even stagger.
Instead, something shifted in his expression.
Something darker.
Something that almost resembled satisfaction.
“Good,” he said, low enough that only she could hear.
Then he moved again.
Faster this time.
Stronger.
His free hand caught her wrist mid-strike, grip tightening like iron as he yanked her forward, forcing her off balance for the first time. The sudden shift broke her rhythm, just enough for him to pivot, dragging her past him before releasing her with controlled force.
Luna stumbled,
One step.
Two…..
Then steadied.
Her pulse kicked harder now, not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.
Excitement.
This was the man she had once trusted.
And this?
This was what he truly was.
Behind her, something changed.
A presence shifted.
The man she had chosen moved.
He hadn’t interfered before.
Hadn’t needed to.
But now…..
Now he stepped forward.
And the air itself seemed to tighten.
He didn’t rush.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t announce himself.
But when he reached Luna’s side, the guards who had been preparing to move again stopped.
Instinct.
Not command.
Instinct.
His gaze settled on the man with the blade, calm, measured, and entirely uninterested in anything but the outcome.
“You’ve had your turn,” he said.
The words were quiet.
But they carried.
The groom’s attention snapped to him, irritation flaring instantly. “This does not involve……”
It ended there.
Because in the next second…..
He moved.
No warning.
No wasted motion.
One step closed the distance, his hand striking the blade aside with a force that sent it veering off its path before it could be used again. The sound of steel clashing echoed sharply, followed immediately by the impact of his next move.
A clean, brutal strike.
Direct.
Precise.
It landed hard enough to drive the groom backward, his footing breaking for the first time as he was forced to step back to recover.
The room went still.
Not shocked.
Not confused.
But aware.
Deeply aware.
This man……
Was not someone you challenged lightly.
Luna watched, her gaze steady, her breathing even despite the shift in energy.
This was what she had chosen.
Not safety.
Not comfort.
But power that did not need permission.
The man beside her didn’t look at her.
Didn’t ask.
Didn’t hesitate.
His focus remained forward, locked onto the one person in the room who still believed he was in control.
“You should have let her walk away,” he said.
The calm in his voice made it worse.
Made it final.
The groom straightened slowly, his grip tightening around his sword again, something furious burning beneath his composure.
“This isn’t over.”
Luna’s lips curved slightly.
“No,” she said softly.
“It’s just beginning.”
- Writer
