The Moon chose my Enemy

The Pull

Rowan shut the council chamber doors behind him harder than he intended. The heavy wood struck the frame with a dull c***k that echoed through the empty corridor. He stood there for a moment, his hand still resting on the handle, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle jumped near his temple.

The image returned before he could stop it. Serena on the balcony. Kael standing too close. Her smile. That smile irritated him more than it should have. Rowan pushed away from the door and started down the corridor. His boots struck the stone floor in measured, deliberate steps. He had spent years learning how to control every expression, every reaction, every instinct that could be used against him. Yet tonight, a single conversation on a balcony had managed to tear through that discipline like a blade through cloth. He told himself it was because Kael was dangerous. That was all.

Kael Ashford had never been a harmless courtier. He was too intelligent, too observant, and too comfortable saying things other men were afraid to say. His loyalty to Shadowfang had always been useful, but usefulness was not the same as trust. And Serena was a Ravenshade. That was enough. It had to be enough.

Rowan entered the council chamber again. The room was still occupied. Kael stood near the long table, one hand resting against the back of a chair. Vespera stood beside one of the tall windows, examining a document with an expression of exaggerated boredom. Rhys was seated at the far end of the table, while General Cassian remained near the fireplace, silent as usual. Kael looked up.

"That was quick."

Rowan's eyes narrowed.

"Was it?"

"I assumed you had more important things to do than stare at an empty balcony."

Vespera lowered the document.

"Kael."

"What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Making the room uncomfortable because you enjoy watching people become uncomfortable."

Kael smiled.

"Then I'm succeeding."

Rowan walked toward the table.

"Enough."

The smile disappeared from Kael's face.

"Of course."

Rowan pulled out the nearest chair but didn't sit.

"Continue."

Cassian unfolded the map before him.

"The southern border patrols reported movement near the old pass. Nothing large enough to constitute an attack, but the tracks suggest at least twenty wolves crossed into our territory."

"From Ravenshade?"

"We don't know."

Rowan studied the map.

"Then find out."

Cassian nodded. Before he could continue, Kael spoke.

"And the Luna?"

The room went still. Rowan slowly lifted his eyes.

"What about her?"

Kael's expression remained perfectly calm.

"I was asking whether the council should be informed about her confinement."

"No."

"She is your mate."

"That doesn't make her part of the council."

"No."

Kael's gaze sharpened.

"But she is the daughter of another Alpha. Keeping her locked away could be interpreted as an insult to Ravenshade."

Rowan stepped closer.

"Are you questioning my decision?"

"I'm questioning whether the decision was political."

"And if it wasn't?"

Kael's eyes flickered briefly.

"Then I suppose it's personal."

Vespera sighed.

"Kael."

He glanced toward her.

"What?"

"Perhaps you should stop."

He smiled faintly.

"You sound concerned."

"I'm concerned about having to explain your death to your mother."

A quiet laugh escaped Rhys. Even Cassian's mouth twitched. Kael looked offended.

"Your concern is touching."

"Don't mistake it for affection."

Their eyes met. For a moment, something unspoken passed between them. Rowan noticed. He noticed everything. But before he could comment, a guard hurried into the chamber. He stopped several feet from the table and bowed.

"Your Majesty."

Rowan turned.

"What?"

"The royal archivist requests your presence."

"At this hour?"

"He says it's urgent."

Rowan's expression changed.

"What happened?"

The guard hesitated.

"Someone entered the restricted archives."

The room fell silent. Rowan's voice became dangerously quiet.

"Who?"

"We don't know."

He exchanged a glance with Cassian.

"Take me there."

Rowan left the council chamber without another word. The archive lay beneath the oldest wing of Shadowfang Castle. The further Rowan descended, the colder the air became. The stone walls narrowed around him, swallowing the sound of footsteps until every movement seemed unnaturally loud. The royal archivist stood outside the iron gate. He bowed nervously.

"Your Majesty."

"Open it."

The old man fumbled with the keys. Rowan noticed immediately.

"You've been frightened."

The archivist swallowed.

"I found the door open."

"Was anything taken?"

"I don't know."

Rowan's eyes hardened.

"You don't know?"

"The records are extensive."

"Then tell me what was disturbed."

The archivist opened his mouth. Then stopped. His eyes shifted toward the shelves. Rowan followed his gaze. A single cabinet stood open. The cabinet containing records from the night his parents were murdered. His pulse changed.

"Who has access?"

"Only the royal family, the council, and—"

"Who?"

The archivist lowered his voice.

"Your Luna."

Rowan's entire body went still. He turned toward the corridor. The archivist looked confused.

"Your Majesty?"

Rowan was already walking. He moved quickly through the archive, past shelves containing centuries of treaties, bloodline records, military reports, and sealed correspondence.

At the end of the corridor, he saw something on the floor. A torn piece of parchment. He bent and picked it up. The seal was Ravenshade. His fingers tightened around it. Then he heard footsteps. Light. Quick. Coming from the opposite corridor. Rowan followed. He turned the corner. And stopped. Serena stood before an open cabinet. A document was in her hands. She looked up. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Rowan's gaze dropped to the parchment.

"What are you doing here?"

Serena's fingers tightened around the document.

"I could ask you the same thing."

His anger returned instantly.

"You were ordered to remain in your room."

"And yet here I am."

"You disobeyed me."

"I did."

She didn't sound frightened. That irritated him even more. Rowan crossed the distance between them.

"Give me the document."

"No."

His eyes narrowed.

"Serena."

"You've spent years telling yourself you know exactly what happened to your family."

She held the parchment against her chest.

"But you never bothered to look at everything."

His voice dropped.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then read it."

She extended the parchment. Rowan didn't take it. He looked at her instead. The faint cut on her palm had reopened. A thin line of blood ran along her wrist. His eyes fixed on it.

"What happened to your hand?"

Serena glanced down.

"Nothing."

He caught her wrist before she could hide it. She inhaled sharply. His fingers tightened instinctively around her pulse. He could feel it racing beneath his thumb. For one second, Rowan forgot the parchment. Forgot the archives. Forgot the hatred he'd spent nine years feeding. All he could feel was her pulse beneath his hand.

Serena looked at him. Neither spoke. Rowan slowly released her wrist. The loss of contact felt strangely immediate. He hated that. He stepped closer instead. Serena didn't retreat. Her back touched the shelves behind her. Rowan placed one hand against the wood beside her head. He could smell her now. Something soft beneath the cold air of the archives. His gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop it. Serena noticed. Her breathing changed. So did his. He leaned closer. Only slightly. Enough to feel the warmth of her breath. Enough to know that if he moved another inch, there would be no pretending afterward. His hand tightened against the shelf.

He hated the way his body responded to her. Hated the pull. Hated the thought that the Moon Goddess had somehow taken the one person he should never want and placed her directly in his path. Serena's eyes remained on his. She didn't move away. Neither did he. For one dangerous moment, Rowan wanted to close the distance. Then he stepped back. His breathing was uneven. He turned toward the door.

"Go back to your room."

Serena said nothing. Rowan stopped at the doorway. He didn't look at her.

"Go to sleep. Before I do something neither of us can take back."

He walked away before she could answer. Only when he reached the end of the corridor did he stop. His hands curled into fists. He had spent nine years believing revenge was the only thing that could keep him standing. Now, for the first time, he was afraid of something else. Not losing control. But discovering what might happen if he stopped fighting it.