THE MOON GODDESS’S FORBIDDEN KING

Lyra’s POV The first time my father tried to sell me, I was fourteen. The second time, he sold me to the most feared man in the Four Kingdoms. I just stared at him across the kitchen table. The oil lamp flickered. Rain drummed on the roof. My father—my own blood—wouldn't even meet my eyes. I laughed. I honestly couldn’t help it. It was a cracked little sound, but it slipped out anyway. “You sold me to who?” He gripped the empty cup in front of him until his knuckles almost matched the porcelain. “Lyra—” “Don’t,” I snapped, holding up my hand. “Don’t say my name like that.” He finally looked at me. My stomach dropped. I’d seen him scared before, when he limped home from a hunt with blood on his shirt or stood up to drunken brutes in the tavern. I’d always known him as stubborn, tired, sometimes unkind, but never afraid. Until tonight. “The debt is… it’s too much,” he muttered. I blinked at him. “What debt?” His eyes shifted away, and in that instant, I got it. Not everything, but enough. A cold feeling crawled down my back. “What did you do?” “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” Thunder crashed outside, and our whole house trembled. My father flinched. Somehow, that scared me more than the storm. “What did you do?” I pressed, heart thudding. He opened his mouth, but then— Knock. Three slow, heavy hits on our door. We both froze. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound seemed to crawl through the walls. I shot a look at the door, then back at him. His face had gone bone white. “Who is that?” He just stared. Another knock—then something sharp dragged down the wood. Slow, deliberate. My heart hammered in my chest. “Father.” “Go to your room.” I gawked at him. “What?” “Go. Now.” Honestly, for half a second, I almost listened. But then there came a growl, deep and low outside, not like anything I'd heard from the village wolves before. Something primal in me shrieked, run. “Who is outside?” I whispered. He leapt up, his chair scraping. “Lyra, go.” “No.” His eyes snapped to mine. I’d disobeyed plenty before, but desperation in his face was new. Panic. Guilt. And his words—“the buyer”—echoed in my head. My breath caught. “No,” I said again. “You didn’t.” “Lyra—” “Tell me I heard you wrong.” A savage growl sounded out, closer this time. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. “Tell me you didn’t sell me to the Wolf King.” Silence. Funny how the world changes in those little moments. I thought life would fall apart with thunder or flame. But sometimes, everything just stops. My father bowed his head. “You did,” I whispered, barely alive. He’d done it. Sold me to King Kael Draven. The Wolf King. The monster mothers threatened their children with. The one whose army burned three rebel kingdoms to the ground in a single year. The man rumored to have more wolf than man in his veins. Nobody in our village had ever seen him, but the stories were everywhere. Born under a black moon, they said. His first cry brought wolves from every forest. His eyes turned red when he lost his temper—so the stories went—and grown men forgot how to breathe. Other stories were worse, especially the ones about the women who went into his palace and never came back. “I had no choice,” my father said. For the first time, I didn’t know the man in front of me. “No choice?” I echoed. “The debt—” “What debt?” He stared at the table. “It started years ago.” My voice rose. “Years? And you kept it from me?” “I was handling it.” I let out a hard, humorless laugh. “Clearly.” His jaw set. “I did what I could.” “And when that wasn’t enough, you handed over your daughter instead?” “Keep your voice down.” “Why?” I barked. “Afraid the neighbors will hear you sold your daughter like a sack of grain?” “Lyra!” His voice cracked across the room. Everything stilled. His shoulders sagged. “I tried to protect you.” I stared at him, raw. “By giving me to Kael Draven?” His expression flickered. Just a twitch, but I caught it. He was hiding something. “How much was the debt?” I demanded. He didn't answer. “How much?” “Enough.” “Enough for what?” Before he could reply, the front door shuddered under another blow. I screamed. He grabbed my arm. “Listen to me.” I yanked away. “Let go!” “Listen.” This time, I heard it—real fear, honest and sharp. His grip tightened. “The men outside aren’t here to bargain.” “What does that mean?” “It means you have to go with them.” I felt sick. “No.” “Lyra—” “No.” “Please.” The word almost broke me. He never begged. I pulled free. “You can’t make me go.” A shadow glided past the window. The curtains fluttered. For just a second, golden eyes peered in. I stopped breathing. And then they vanished. My knees nearly buckled. “What was that?” “One of the King’s wolves.” “His wolves are here?” “They’re his guards now.” Of course. As if being dragged away by strangers in the rain wasn’t bad enough. I wrapped myself in my arms. “No. I won’t go.” “You have to.” “I’ll run.” “You won’t get far.” “I’ll hide.” “They’ll find you.” “I’ll fight.” His face crumpled, and I hated him for that—for the way he already looked like he’d lost me. “You don’t understand, Lyra,” he whispered. “I don’t because you never told me anything,” I threw back. His eyes closed, and he looked older than I’d ever seen him. When he opened them again, there was grief in his eyes. “I thought I had more time,” he said softly. My anger faltered. “What?” The door took a final, brutal hit. The lock snapped. I stumbled back. My father stepped in front of me. “Stay behind me,” he ordered. I almost laughed. Now he wanted to protect me? The door creaked open. Frigid rain swept inside. Three men stood in the doorway, wearing black uniforms with silver armor across their shoulders and a wolf’s head stitched over each heart. Behind them, two massive wolves loomed, black and soaked and eerie with golden eyes. One fixated on me. Every bit of warmth drained out of my body. The tallest guard stepped in. “Lyra Vale.” I couldn’t get a word out. “She’s here,” my father answered for me. That stung more than I cared to admit. The guard coolly looked me over, just checking a box. “The King is waiting.” My father edged forward. “Let me speak to her alone.” The guard’s eyes didn’t change. “You’ve had twenty years.” Twenty years. The number landed strange. I looked at my father, but he wouldn’t look back. The guard stretched out his hand. “Come.” I didn't move. “What happens if I refuse?” One of the wolves growled, the sound rolling like thunder. The guard gave him a glance, then turned back to me. “His Majesty wants you alive.” For half a second, I felt a glimmer of hope. “He said nothing about unharmed,” the guard finished. Gone. Behind me, my father let out a strangled sound. “Enough.” But the guard just ignored him. I stared at the open door, the rain, the darkness beyond. I wanted to run. Everything in me screamed to run. Wolves. Guards. And a kingdom I only knew in nightmares, ruled by the man I feared most. I looked at my father. “Why me?” His face blurred with something unreadable. “What?” “Why did the Wolf King ask for me?” “He didn’t.” He said it too quick. I narrowed my eyes. “Then why am I the payment?” “Because—” “Because what?” He clammed up. The guard cut me off with a sigh. “Enough questions.” I pressed, locking eyes with him. “Was I chosen?” For a split second, surprise, then amusement flashed across his face. My father stepped toward the guard. “Don’t.” That word told me everything. My heart pounded harder. “You knew,” I whispered, turning to my father. “You knew he wanted me.” “It’s not what you think.” “Then tell me what it is.” His mouth opened—but nothing came out. The guard took a step forward. “Come.” I backed away. “No.” The black wolf moved, one step, and I froze. The guard reached for me. Something cool slipped from my collar—my silver pendant. My mother’s moon. The guard spotted it—and froze. My father sucked in a breath. I looked between them. “What?” The guard reached out, slow. I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” His face changed—gone flat, then almost startled. He looked from me, to my pendant, out to the dark. “Take her.” Father grabbed my hand. “Wait.” I turned, and for a second, nothing else existed. He hugged me tight, the way he did when I was small and afraid of nightmares. He whispered, so quiet I nearly missed it: “Whatever happens, don’t tell him about the dreams.” I pulled back, stunned. “What dreams?” His face went blank with horror. He’d let slip something important. “Father?” The guard yanked my arm. “Time.” “Wait!” I lunged toward him. “What dreams?” He didn't answer. The door fell between us. The rain hit my face. “Father!” He just stood there, on the other side of the wood. And as they led me out, I heard him—soft as a breath—“I’m sorry.” The door slammed. I stared at it, numb. My home. My father. Gone in an instant. A black wolf growled at my side. Up the road, a line of black carriages waited. The biggest was all silver wolves and dark windows—a royal carriage. My blood went ice cold. I stopped. The guard stiffened. “Move.” “He’s here?” My voice practically whispered itself. “Who?” I swallowed. “The Wolf King.” The guard’s mouth curled, just faintly. “Did you think His Majesty would let anyone else fetch the woman he wants for himself?” All the air left my body. Personally requested. My father lied. Kael Draven had chosen me. Just a girl from nowhere, with no magic, no title. Nothing. This wasn’t about debt. Not really. The carriage door opened. Golden light spilled onto the mud and rain. Inside—a man draped in black, gloves covering his hands, silver crown on his head, gold eyes locked straight on me. He was younger than I expected. That’s what hit me first. Second—he was striking. Not pretty like the local boys. Sharp, almost cold. His dark hair tumbled over his brow. When his gaze snagged mine, I couldn’t look away. He didn’t look surprised. He looked… relieved. Like he’d finally found something he’d lost. That scared me more than all the other stories. I climbed into the carriage because I didn’t have a real choice. The door shut behind me. For a while, no one spoke. Just the rain thudding on the roof. Kael never stopped watching. I hated that he seemed to study me, hated that I couldn’t quit sneaking glances at him. Finally, I forced out the question. “Why did you buy me?” He didn’t change his expression. “Not a very polite greeting to your future husband.” My stomach crashed through my feet. “My what?” He leaned into the seat. Smiled, just a little. “Didn’t your father tell you?” I stared at him. Tell me what? He almost looked amused at my confusion. But then his eyes flickered down—to my pendant. The faint humor vanished. His eyes darkened. My hand flew to it, covering the silver moon. His gaze lifted again. For just a moment, I saw real emotion burning behind all that cold. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said. My heart banged in my chest. “Why?” I whispered. The carriage rolled into darkness. He said nothing for ages. Then, quietly, he smiled. And I knew. My life changed the moment his men pounded on my door. “Do you know why I bought you, Lyra?” I shook my head. He never broke eye contact. “Because I’ve been waiting for you for twenty years.” Something inside me snapped. His gaze dropped to my pendant again, and when he finally spoke, it was almost gentle. Almost. “The real question, little moon…” The carriage plunged into black woods. Outside, wolves began to howl. “…is whether you remember me.”