The Moonblood Queen And Her Three Alphas

"Little star..." The voice found me again. It always came on nights when the moon was hidden. Soft. Warm. Familiar. As if someone had spent years searching for me across endless darkness. "Little star... can you hear me?" I turned toward the voice, but there was nothing except silver mist stretching in every direction. It swirled around my feet, cool against my bare skin, while tiny lights danced through the fog like stars that had fallen from the heavens. "Who are you?" I whispered. No answer. Only the gentle sound of footsteps approaching. A woman's silhouette emerged from the mist. Her long silver hair flowed behind her like liquid moonlight, and a veil concealed her face. I couldn't see her features. Yet somehow... I knew she was smiling. "My little star," she murmured. The words filled me with a sadness so deep that my chest hurt. "Come home." I reached for her. "Wait!" The moment our fingertips were about to touch— Everything shattered. *** I bolted upright, gasping for breath. My heart hammered violently against my ribs as the dream dissolved into darkness. The tiny servant's room greeted me with familiar silence. A narrow bed. A wooden wardrobe with one broken door. A cracked mirror hanging above a washbasin. Rain tapped softly against the small window overlooking the servants' courtyard. I pressed a trembling hand against my chest. The ache was still there. Not physical. Just... Loneliness. "Another dream..." For as long as I could remember, I'd dreamed of the same silver-haired woman. Sometimes she called my name. Sometimes she simply watched me. Tonight... She had called me little star again. I rubbed my temples. "You're losing your mind, Nysera." Dreams were dreams. Nothing more. No mysterious woman had ever visited House Voss. No one had ever looked at me with that kind of affection. Certainly not here. A loud knock echoed through the hallway. "Nysera!" Lady Sorelle's sharp voice sliced through the morning silence. "If you're still asleep, I'll have you scrubbing every corridor in the estate by yourself!" I jumped out of bed. "I'm awake!" "You'd better be." Her footsteps faded. I sighed. There would be no more sleeping. Not today. House Voss was one of the most respected noble families in all of Aethryss. People called Lord Draevor Voss the Hero of the Seven Kingdoms. The noble who had united fractured alliances after the Night of Broken Stars. The man who had supposedly saved countless lives. The man who had... Adopted an orphan out of compassion. That orphan was me. At least... That was the story everyone knew. I had no memories before arriving here. No parents. No family name. No village. Only the name Nysera. Lord Draevor had given me food. A roof. An education alongside the household servants. For that, everyone insisted I should be grateful. And I was. Grateful enough not to complain when Lady Sorelle treated me like unpaid labor. Grateful enough to smile when Lady Maevra reminded me where I belonged. Grateful enough to convince myself this was kindness. Even when it hurt. *** The kitchen buzzed with activity. Servants hurried between ovens carrying baskets of warm bread and trays of fruit. The smell of fresh herbs and roasted meat filled the air. Old Mira, the head cook, looked up as I entered. "There you are." She shoved a basket into my arms. "Lady Maevra wants breakfast in her chambers." I smiled. "Good morning to you too." She snorted. "You'll still be smiling when she throws the tray at your head." "I doubt she'll miss breakfast just to aim at me." "Don't underestimate rich girls." Despite herself, the old woman chuckled. Old Mira wasn't related to me. But after eighteen years in this estate, she was the closest thing I'd ever had to family. She always slipped extra food onto my plate. Always scolded me for working too hard. Always pretended not to notice when I sneaked leftover bread to the stable wolves. "If she insults you again," Mira muttered while buttering warm rolls, "imagine she's a goat." I blinked. "A goat?" "The ugly kind." A laugh escaped before I could stop it. "There." She pointed the butter knife at me triumphantly. "That's the smile you should wear." "Nysera!" The sharp voice echoed from upstairs. "...The goat is calling." Mira smirked. "Go before she starts shedding." I shook my head, trying not to laugh as I carried the breakfast tray upstairs. *** Lady Maevra's room was larger than my entire living quarters. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows. Expensive gowns hung in neat rows. Jewelry sparkled across polished tables. Servants rushed in and out carrying travel trunks. Astral Lyceum's crest—a silver constellation woven around a crescent moon—had been embroidered onto every piece of luggage. Only heirs of the Seven Moonblood Houses attended the academy. Tomorrow... Lady Maevra would finally leave. "You took long enough." Her voice dripped with annoyance. I set the tray on the table. "My apologies." She didn't even look at me. Instead, she examined herself in an enormous mirror while another maid adjusted her academy cloak. "I asked for berry tea." I glanced at the teapot. "It's jasmine, my lady." "I know." She finally turned. "I changed my mind." The surrounding maids immediately lowered their heads. No one spoke. No one moved. I picked up the tray again. "I'll bring fresh tea." "Leave the food." "Yes, my lady." As I turned to leave, Maevra spoke again. "Oh, and Nysera?" "Yes?" She smiled sweetly. "Try not to embarrass the household while I'm gone." I frowned. "I don't understand." "You don't have to." Her smile widened. "Just remember that servants should never dream above their station." The words stung more than I wanted to admit. Not because they were new. Because I'd heard them so many times they had almost become truth. Almost. I bowed without another word and left the room. *** The hallway was quieter. Most servants had gone downstairs to continue packing for tomorrow's departure. As I walked toward the kitchens, unfamiliar voices drifted from Lord Draevor's private study. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I simply froze when I heard my name. "...Nysera cannot go." Lord Draevor. His calm voice carried through the half-open door. A second voice answered. Older. Unknown. "The invitation bears her name." "There must be some mistake." "There are no mistakes where Astral Lyceum is concerned." Silence followed. Then paper rustled. Lord Draevor spoke again, his voice lowers this time. "Destroy the second letter." "The Headmaster will notice." "Then let him notice." "But if the seal has truly begun weakening—" "Enough." The single word cut through the room like a blade. "No one speaks those words in this house." My heart skipped. What seal? What second letter? And... Why were they talking about me? I instinctively stepped backward. The old wooden floor creaked beneath my foot. Inside the study, conversation stopped. My breath caught. The doorknob slowly began to turn...