The Rejected Maid is the Alpha prince's Fated Luna

Chapter 4

Luna's stomach dropped straight through the floor.

"She knows," she repeated, like saying it slower would make it less true. "She told you that directly?"

"Not in those words." Damian ran a hand through his hair, a habit she recognized as pure stress. "She was careful. Vague enough to deny it later if I confronted her. But she made sure I understood the message."

"Which was?"

"That she's willing to keep quiet." His mouth twisted like the words tasted bad. "For now. In exchange for my cooperation at the banquet. Standing beside her. Letting the Council photograph us together. Making it look like something's happening between us."

Luna sat down slowly on the edge of his sofa, the velvet curtain still swaying faintly behind her from where she'd pushed through it. "So she's blackmailing you."

"She's playing politics. That's what nobles call it when it's not technically illegal." Damian sat beside her, his shoulders sagging in a way she rarely saw, the crown-prince posture cracking just slightly at the seams. "I told her no."

"Damian—"

"I did. I'm not going to parade around some fake courtship to protect a secret that shouldn't even need protecting." His hand found hers, gripping tighter than usual. "You're not something to be ashamed of, Luna. I need you to know that."

"I know that. I do." She squeezed his hand back, even as worry gnawed at her chest. "But she's not going to just let this go because you said no once. Women like Selena don't lose gracefully."

"I can handle Selena."

"Can you? Because from where I'm standing, she's already cornered me in a hallway and now she's cornering you in a private meeting. That's not someone playing defense, Damian. That's someone building a case."

He didn't have an answer for that, which worried her more than anything he could have said.

***

The night of the Founders' Banquet arrived faster than Luna wanted. She stood in the palace's staff quarters, buttoning the stiff black uniform reserved for formal event, watching her hands tremble slightly in the mirror.

"You look fine," said Diana, one of the other maids, adjusting Luna's collar with practiced efficiency. "Better than fine. Stop fidgeting, you'll wrinkle the fabric."

"I'm not fidgeting."

"You've re-tucked that same section of your shirt four times." Diana smirked. "Nervous about something? Or someone?"

"Just tired," Luna lied, smoothing her hands down her uniform one last time before forcing herself to stop.

The ballroom, when she entered it carrying her first tray of champagne flute, was a different world entirely from the palace she knew.

The chandelier size of small cars threw golden light across marble floors polished to a mirror shine.

Nobles in silk and jewels moved through the space like they were performing a dance only they knew the choreography to.

Music drifted from a string quartet tucked into one corner, elegant and understated.

Luna kept her eyes down, her tray steady, moving through the crowd with the practiced invisibility Mrs. Abara had drilled into her for three years.

*Present but forgotten.* It had never felt harder than it did tonight, knowing Damian was somewhere in this room, knowing Selena was too.

She spotted Damian near the center of the ballroom, flanked by his father and a cluster of Council elders, dressed in a deep navy formal coat that made him look every inch the future king.

He caught her eye for just a fraction of a second across the room—barely anything, a flicker of recognition—before smoothly returning his attention to whatever King Victor was saying.

It was the right thing to do. The smart thing. But it still stung, watching him perform distance so effortlessly, like the year they'd spent together had trained him well for exactly this moment.

"Champagne, miss?"

Luna turned, offering her tray automatically to the woman who'd approached, and felt her whole body go rigid.

Selena Royce stood before her in a gown the color of dried blood, dark red silk that clung to every curve, a diamond choker at her throat that probably cost more than the entire palace kitchen staff made in a decade combined.

"How generous," Selena said, taking a flute without breaking eye contact. "Serving tonight. I suppose someone has to."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You know, I watched you earlier." Selena sipped her champagne slowly, savoring the moment as much as the drink. "The way the Crown Prince looked at you. Just now, across the room. A fraction of a second, barely noticeable—unless you're someone who's spent her whole life learning to notice exactly those kinds of things."

Luna's grip tightened on her tray. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." Selena's smile was pure ice, beautiful and merciless. "I gave him a chance to end this quietly. He refused. So now I suppose we'll have to see how this plays out the hard way." She leaned in, her voice dropping to something almost gentle, almost kind, which somehow made it more frightening than anything else she could have said. "Enjoy tonight, sweetheart. It might be one of your last secrets."

She walked away, disappearing into the glittering crowd, leaving Luna standing frozen in the middle of the ballroom with a tray of champagne trembling in her hands and Damian's father's cold eyes suddenly, unmistakably, fixed on her from across the room.