The Luna Princess
1516 Words
“Every fairy tale needs a princess,” I told my children.
My daughter smiled at once. “Was she locked in a tower?”
“No.”
“Was she cursed?” my son asked.
I looked toward the window, where the moon hung bright and silver over the palace gardens.
“In a way.”
“By a witch?”
“By a crown,” I said. “And by a kingdom that believed her heart was another throne to be claimed.”
My daughter frowned. “That sounds sad.”
“It was,” I said softly. “But this princess was never the sort of princess who waited for someone to save her.”
My son sat up straighter. “Was she brave?”
I smiled.
“She was terrifying.”
Princess Moon
The Luna Princess of LunariaNova is late.
Again.
“Your Highness!” Elira shouted behind me, her voice snatched almost clean away by the wind. “Your mother is going to have my head for this!”
“Then ride faster!”
I leaned low over Astra’s neck, my fingers tangled in her silver mane as she thundered across the frost-kissed field. The palace rose ahead of us, all white stone, moon-glass towers, and banners snapping beneath the Rare Moon’s early glow.
Behind me, my companions raced hard.
Elira, my maid and longest-suffering keeper of my schedule, rode like a woman personally betrayed by horses, gowns, and me.
Tavin, one of my royal guards, laughed as his wind wolf speed pushed his horse nearly beside mine.
Lady Sable, my mother’s favorite court companion for me, was too polished to yell, but I heard her mutter, “Princesses do not race home on the night of their own ball.”
I grinned.
“They do when they are winning.”
Astra surged beneath me.
For one beautiful moment, there was no crown waiting on my vanity. No council whispering over ancient mate laws. No noble male wolves arriving from every elemental pack in LunariaNova to smile at me like I was a kingdom wrapped in silk.
There was only wind.
Hooves.
Moonlight.
Freedom.
Then Storm stirred beneath my skin.
My wolf was usually calm.
Still.
A deep silver shadow resting behind my ribs, watching the world through my eyes with patience sharper than any blade. Storm did not pace. She did not whine. She did not snap at every shift in the air the way younger wolves did.
But tonight, she had been restless since dusk.
Not afraid.
Never afraid.
Restless.
Her senses pressed against mine until every scent came too sharp. Wet grass. Horse sweat. Frost. Leather. The distant smoke from palace chimneys. The perfume waiting in my dressing room that I already knew would give me a headache.
Something is different, Storm whispered.
I tightened my grip on Astra’s reins.
You said that already.
Because it remains true.
I glanced up.
The moon had risen pale and enormous, not full in the ordinary way. It carried a ring of faint blue-white light around it, like a crown made by the heavens themselves.
The Rare Moon.
It came only once in a generation.
Tonight, of course.
Because apparently, the Goddess had looked at the most politically dangerous ball of my life and decided it needed decoration.
Storm went very still.
The Moon Goddess has blessed it.
My breath caught.
Storm?
She spoke to me.
My horse crossed the palace bridge at a hard gallop, and I forced myself not to pull back too sharply.
Storm was the only part of me that could hear the Moon Goddess.
Not always. Not fully. Never when I wanted answers.
The Goddess spoke in halves, fragments, riddles, and feelings. Enough to unsettle. Never enough to prepare.
What did she say? I asked.
Storm’s presence curled tighter inside me.
The moon is blessed. Any bond born beneath it tonight will be rewarded with power in a way they will not understand until it awakens.
A chill ran over my arms.
Will I form a bond tonight?
Silence.
Storm?
She did not answer at once.
She did not tell me that half.
Of course she did not.
The palace gates opened as Astra raced through.
Elira’s horse came pounding behind mine, followed by Tavin and Sable. Servants scattered from the courtyard as we rode in far too fast for royal dignity.
I pulled Astra to a stop beside the fountain.
The poor stablemaster looked ready to faint.
“Your Highness,” he gasped.
I slid from the saddle, landing in my riding boots with my hair half escaped from its braid and my cheeks flushed from the wind.
Elira stumbled down from her horse behind me.
“I quit,” she announced.
“You said that last week.”
“I meant it more this time.”
Tavin dismounted with a grin. “The princess won.”
Sable gave him a look cold enough to shame a snow wolf. “The princess is late.”
The palace doors opened.
My mother stood at the top of the steps.
Queen Selene PentNova did not need to shout.
She was one of those women who could silence a courtyard by breathing in the wrong direction.
Her gown was pale silver. Her crown was already on. Her dark hair was pinned perfectly, her face calm and beautiful in the way only queens and assassins managed.
“Moona.”
One word.
My full name.
Terrible.
I straightened at once. “Mother.”
Her gaze moved over me.
Riding boots. Wind-tangled hair. Mud on my hem. No gloves. No crown. Very possibly leaves in my braid.
“The Midnight Moon Ball begins in two hours.”
“I know.”
“You are covered in grass.”
“It was a very enthusiastic field.”
Elira made a strangled sound behind me.
My mother’s eyes narrowed.
“Inside.”
I handed Astra’s reins to the stablemaster and kissed the mare’s nose before following my mother into the palace.
The moment the doors closed, servants descended on me like a flock of beautifully dressed vultures.
“Your Highness, your hair—”
“The gown still needs fastening—”
“The council has already arrived—”
“The Fire Wolf delegation is early—”
“Your bath is cooling—”
“The moonstone crown has not been blessed—”
My mother raised one hand.
Everyone stopped.
That was the power of a queen.
Not noise.
Control.
She turned to me. “Do you understand what tonight means?”
I did.
That was the problem.
“Every unmated noble male wolf in LunariaNova is required to attend,” I said. “Every unmated common-born male may attend by choice. The Rare Moon will witness any possible mate signs. The council will record every reaction. The noble houses will pretend this is romantic while measuring how close they can get to the throne.”
Elira lowered her head to hide a smile.
My mother did not smile.
“And?”
“And,” I continued, less playfully, “no male may touch me without permission. No wolf may attempt a claim. No bond may be forced. Any violation of my consent is treason against House PentNova.”
“Good.”
“I paid attention in law lessons.”
“You paid attention while carving rude pictures into the underside of the table.”
“They were educational, rude pictures.”
“Moona.”
I sighed. “I know what tonight means.”
Her expression softened, but only a little.
“You are first to the crown. Some men will come tonight seeking fate. Others will come seeking power and call it fate when it suits them.”
Storm growled low inside me.
My mother heard the echo of it in my scent. Her eyes sharpened.
“Your wolf is unsettled.”
“She says the moon is blessed.”
My mother went very still.
For one second, the queen vanished.
Only my mother remained.
“What else?”
“That bonds born tonight will be rewarded with power.” I looked toward the high windows, where moonlight washed the marble floor. “She does not know how.”
“Or she was not told.”
I nodded.
The Moon Goddess never told us everything.
Only enough to make us dangerous to ourselves.
My mother reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from my cheek.
“Then you must be careful.”
“I am always careful.”
She looked at my mud-stained boots.
I lifted one foot slightly. “Emotionally.”
For a moment, I thought she might laugh.
She did not.
Instead, she kissed my forehead.
“Tonight, be more than careful. Be wise.”
That was a heavier command.
Wisdom asked more than obedience.
By the time they finished dressing me, I looked nothing like the girl who had raced across the field with wind in her hair.
The gown was moon-silk, pale at the shoulders and deepening into midnight blue at the hem.
- Writer
