The Forsaken Luna and Her Cursed Prince

Chapter4

Sera's Pov

I was drowning, not in the water, but in despair so thick it stole the air from my lungs.

Days passed by in a haze after Kael's rejection.

I moved from room to room in the palace like a ghost, unwanted and unseen.

The pitying glances of the servants,

The mocking smiles of the nobles,

The whispers followed me down every corridor.

“Poor Sera.”

“The unwanted mate.”

“The discarded bride.”

At night, I'd lay awake staring at the ceiling, feeling hollow, feeling useless. My life had never been my own, but this — this was a special kind of cruelty.

I had been cast away by my own family, humiliated before the royal court, and left to rot in the palace of a man who didn't want me.

And that wasn't the worst part.

I had no way out.

That thought clung to me like a shadow. No one was coming to save me. No prince, no knight, no unseen hand of fate was coming.

‘If no one is coming to save you, there's no point in fighting.’ Those words burrowed deep into my mind.

One night after my usual dinner alone, I walked to the palace balcony and stopped there, looking over the jagged cliffs below.

The wind howled around me, tugging at the thin nightgown I wore.

The waves crashed violently against the rocks, their roar swallowing my unsteady breaths.

It would be easy. One step forward and everything would go away — the pain, the shame and the desperation of someone to decide my worth.

My fingers tightened around the cold stone railing, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then, as I loomed near, I heard footsteps.

I stilled.

A voice, low, and measured, floated through the darkness.

I turned my head just slightly, hiding in the shadows as I peered down into the courtyard below.

Kael.

He stood near the stables, speaking in hushed tones to a hooded figure. His posture was different — strong, commanding. Nothing like the disinterested prince he pretended to be court.

“Your men will move at my signal,” Kael murmured. “No sooner. The king cannot suspect anything until it's too late.”

My breath hitched.

“We're running out of time,” the other person said. A woman.

“I know,” Kael snapped, my eyes flashing. “But if we move too soon, everything we've built will crumble. Let the world think I am weak. Let them believe I am a fool. That is how we win.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping.

Kael wasn't weak.

He wasn't a fool.

He was playing one.

An unfamiliar feeling unfurled in my chest — not despair, not helplessness, but rage.

I had been discarded, humiliated, left with nothing, while he played this stupid, dangerous game of deception right under everyone's noses.

Suddenly, something inside of me snapped.

I would not end my life for a man who never deserved me. I told myself I'd never be a pawn in anyone's game. If the world thought I was nothing then I'd make myself something. And I knew where to start.

Four days later, I found myself sitting with the rebels in the slums of the lower city where the king's reach barely extended.

They were like ghosts, faint whispers in the dark, unnoticed, unseen but they struck at the heart of the kingdom's corruption and they had found me.

How?

I took one wrong turn into the dark alley of the black market. It was a vulnerable and stupid thing to do but I took my chances. I had just taken three steps forward before rough hands grabbed me from behind and shoved me against a wall.

“Tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you stand.” a gruff voice growled.

I forced myself to meet the man's gaze. Deep red scar running down his left eyebrow, piercing green eyes and red lips. Ronan Graves, the rebel general. A legend among the outcasts.

I had spent days gathering information on him, preparing for this moment.

“Because I can help you.” I said, steady despite the blade pressing against my throat.

Ronan let out a snotty laugh. “Help us? What can a pampered palace girl do for me?”

The old me would flinch, beg and cry but the old me was dead. The new me, however, smiled.

“I know things,” I whispered. “Things about Kael, about the palace, about the king's weaknesses, and… and I want to learn.”

Ronan's brows furrowed. “Learn? Learn what?”

I straightened my spine. “Learn how to fight.”

A flicker of something unnamed passed through his eyes. “Why?”

I exhaled slowly. “Because I refuse to be weak anymore.”

Ronan studied me for a long moment before, without warning, he swung his fist at my face.

I barely had time to react before pain exploded across my cheek, sending me staggering back. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

Ronan scoffed. “You're weak.”

Yeah, no s**t.

“But you came here,” he said. “And you didn't run.”

I lifted my chin. “No, I didn't.”

Ronan smirked. “Let's see if you'll survive, princess.”

I barely did because the weeks that followed were hell.

My body ached in places I didn't know existed. My hands bled and my ribs bruised. Everytime I hit the ground, Ronan barked at me to get up. And everytime, I did.

I learned how to wield a blade, how to predict movements before it happened and read my opponent's stance.

I studied maps, battle strategies, and the history of war. I learned when to strike and when to wait.

I learned how to win.

With each bruise and cut, I felt something shift inside me.

The girl who had once stood on a balcony, ready to throw herself off the balcony, was gone and in her place was a warrior. I was not the same girl who walked into that alley. I was something more.

I wiped sweat from my brow, gripping my sword tighter.

Everyone took everything from me.

And now?

I'm going to take it all back.