His Missing Luna

CHAPTER 103

AMERIE/JESSICA

WITH A THOUGHT

Being addressed as "princess" still feels strange to me. Unnatural. As if it doesn't belong. But no matter what I say, my parents refuse to change their minds. It’s been endless meetings and ceremonies, a parade of faces I can barely keep track of. Everyone in the pack wants to meet me. Apparently, it’s my duty to let them.

Royal protocol, they call it.

So I ran here. The library is the only place where i find some peace. A sanctuary. Good thing Kizziah allowed me to read. I suppose he didn’t want an illiterate Luna for their son.

I rest my hand on the old books, breathing in their musty scent, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I’ve been studying everything I can about the Silvercrest Pack. From our origins to how we came upon our powers.

Now, I understand why I have abilities... why Kizziah wanted me as Saul’s mate.

We Silver wolves have gifts—healing, growing, teleportation, mind-reading, and more. All of it bound to the Shakuna, a force that only works for good. But if it’s used for anything else, the Shakuna withers, and the person wielding it crosses over to the dark side.

Only the alpha's bloodline holds the purest form of this power—a direct link to the goddess herself.

With the ability to do more than the average wielder of the Shakuna.

I think back to the day I used mine. When the rogues attacked the Thunderstorm Pack. I healed Cara, destroyed the rogues, rebuilt the homes.

I used the same power that night when I disappeared from Nate.

Nathan.

The familiar gnawing in my chest sharpens, as do the silent scream that echoes in my mind every time I think of him. My conscience, or maybe just my heart, snarls at me whenever I remember that night.

“Princess, is something wrong?” Tamia’s voice interrupts my thoughts. She rises from her chair, always alert, always ready to serve.

“I’m fine.” I force a smile, though it feels brittle on my face. “You can sit.”

She hesitates but sits back down, her eyes watching me closely. Tamia’s been my personal aide since the day I returned. I didn’t want an aide, but again, my parents wouldn’t hear it.

“Perhaps a walk would do you good?” she suggests gently. “You’ve been in the library all morning.”

A walk doesn’t sound terrible. “Sure. A walk sounds nice.”

“Maybe the garden,” she suggests, already gathering my things.

“I can carry them myself,” I say, sighing at the routine. The weight of formality, of having to let someone else do things for me, presses down again.

“It’s my job, princess,” she says with her usual smile, hugging the books to her chest. “Shall we?”

I groan and head for the door. Outside, guards bow to me as we pass. People nod their heads, smiling and acknowledging me.

Another reminder of the crown I never asked for.

Since Kizziah and Saul’s escape, my father has doubled the security around me. Ten of his best warriors follow me everywhere, even though there’s nowhere for me to go besides the borders of the pack.

No one knows how they escaped. Only that someone in black attacked the guards, dosed them with wolfsbane and knocked them out cold.

“Get used to it, princess,” Tamia chuckles behind me.

“I doubt I ever will,” I mutter under my breath.

“You’ll have to. What else can we call you if not princess?”

“My name, maybe?” I snap back, heading toward the garden. “Amerie. Everyone has a name.”

“When you’re royalty, your name is more than a name—it’s respect,” she says.

I stop and look at her. “Are you saying if I wasn’t royalty, no one would respect me?”

She pales, eyes widening. “No, princess. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I press, feeling a flicker of frustration.

“I meant that... royalty comes with power. People want to be close to it. It makes them feel important.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do you think of yourself as my friend?”

“Heavens, no!” she stammers, clutching the books tighter. “I’m your aide, princess, not your friend.”

“And if I wanted you to be more than that?”

She shakes her head furiously. “I can’t! It’s against royal protocol.”

“Royal protocol can change.” I turn and start walking again. “I’ll speak to my father about it.”

“Please, princess, don’t!” she begs, catching up to me. “The king and queen—”

“They’ll understand. They’re my parents, after all.”

Before she can argue more, we arrive at the garden, its fragrance filling the air. I crouch beside the nearest flower, feeling its soft petals between my fingers. “Now, drop the things and help me with the gardening. And that’s an order,” she doesn’t see the smirk on my face

Tamia groans but kneels beside me.

I never imagined I would love gardening. Smelling the rich fragrances of flowers, feeling their softness in my palms, surrounded by their beautiful colours, has come to be one of my favorite things to do.

Maybe a representation of my freedom from Kizziah’s pack.

With a thought I createded a garden at the Thunderstorm Pack. I had a free afternoon to myself and while strolling around the pack, I had thought of how wonderful it would be to have a garden around.

And like that, the first flower sprouted from the ground. Another showed up till I was surrounded by a garden full of different and beautiful flowers.

Instantly, it drew attention and the pack members joined me in my new garden, taking flowers with them when they were leaving.

Nathan had his men build a low fence around it for protection.

Nathan.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips and my shoulders sag. My chest tightens again, the ache nearly unbearable. I drop the pruning shears in my hand.

“Princess?” Tamia’s voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I lie, picking up the scissors again and continue working.

Everything is wrong. Nathan’s absence feels like a missing limb.

Gosh. I miss those green eyes. How they grow soft when he sees me. Or when he hears me call his name.

I miss his hands around me, holding me as we sit under the sky, watching the stars. The warmth of his palms in mine. How they grip mine with all the love in his heart for me.

I miss him kissing my forehead. I miss them a lot.

I miss the smell of his scent. Frowning as I realise I still can’t identify what it is. Notwithstanding, I love his familiar yet indescribable scent.

The thought releases a voice to purr in my head.

“Princess,” Tamia says quietly. “You have a visitor.”

I turn and my heart races. Anselm stands before me, bowing slightly.

“I never knew you loved gardening,” he says, his voice sending a familiar shiver down my spine.