His Rejected Luna Returned as a Queen

Before the Sun Rises

Elena woke before the first light reached the window.

For several seconds she didn't move. The room was dark and cold, the silence broken only by Maya's slow breathing on the other side of the bed. Somewhere below them, a floorboard creaked.

Her eyes opened fully. She sat up.

The sound didn't come again. It could have been the innkeeper. Another traveler. An old building settling in the cold before morning.

Or someone waiting.

She looked toward the window. The curtains were still drawn—she'd checked them twice before falling asleep, checked the lock on the door three times after that. None of it had helped her sleep. Nothing had. Every time exhaustion pulled her under, she heard the voice at the door again.

*Open the door.*

Except it hadn't been Adrian. She knew that now. Someone had known exactly whose voice would make her hesitate, and that thought was worse than any stranger's voice could have been.

Elena swung her legs over the side of the bed. Maya stirred immediately.

"Are we leaving?"

"You're awake?"

"No." Maya pulled the blanket over her head. "I'm sleepwalking."

Despite everything, Elena almost smiled. "Get up."

"What time is it?"

"Before sunrise."

Maya groaned into the blanket. "You said we should leave."

"I know what I said. I didn't realize I'd have to wake up to support my own ideas."

Elena began gathering their bags. There wasn't much to prepare—most of it had been packed the night before. She folded the borrowed blanket and set it carefully at the foot of the bed, an old habit from Aunt Mara's house that felt strange to keep now.

Maya sat up slowly. "You really think they're still outside?"

"I don't know."

"You've said that a lot lately."

"Because I don't know anything lately."

That silenced them both. Elena adjusted her bag strap and looked around the small room one last time. Less than a day in this settlement, and already it didn't feel safe.

Maya pulled on her boots. "Front or back?"

"Not the front."

"You think someone's watching it?"

"I think someone knew exactly which room we were staying in."

Neither of them spoke after that. Elena moved toward the door, and Maya caught her wrist.

"Wait. Listen."

They stood completely still. At first Elena heard nothing. Then—footsteps, slow, somewhere down the hallway. Her hand found the knife at her belt. The footsteps stopped. Several seconds passed with nothing happening, and then they started again, moving away this time.

Elena waited until the sound was gone entirely. "Now."

The hallway was empty. They moved quickly toward the stairs, keeping clear of the windows that looked over the street, Elena half expecting a hand on her shoulder the entire way down. Nothing came.

The common room sat dark and empty, tables bare, the innkeeper nowhere in sight.

"That's strange," Maya whispered.

Elena nodded and crossed the room. The front door was locked, which didn't surprise her. "Back door."

They found it behind the kitchen. Maya reached for the handle, and Elena grabbed her arm.

"What?"

"Wait." She leaned closer to the wood. Voices outside—at least two, maybe more, low and unhurried. One stopped talking. Another laughed quietly.

Elena stepped back. "We can't go that way."

Maya looked around the kitchen and found a narrow window above the counter. "That, then."

"It's small."

"So are we, comparatively."

Elena climbed up first, eased the window open, and pushed through into the cold morning air, dropping into the dirt behind the inn. Maya followed a moment later, and they crouched together against the building, listening. The settlement stayed quiet. A few lamps still burned in distant windows, but the streets themselves were empty.

"Which way?" Maya whispered.

Elena looked toward the southern road, then toward the dark treeline beyond the last houses. "I don't know."

"That's becoming a problem."

"I know."

They needed somewhere no one could easily follow, but the forest carried its own risks—the stranger's warning about patrols hadn't left her. She thought of the cabin. The riders. The voice at the door.

"South," she said, because it was the only direction that didn't feel like walking back toward the danger they'd already seen.

They moved through the shadows between buildings, heads down, until the settlement fell away behind them and the first thin line of dawn appeared over the mountains ahead.

Elena stopped. Maya looked back.

"No one followed us."

"That we know of."

"You're very comforting."

"I'm sorry."

They kept walking. For nearly an hour, neither spoke. The road narrowed, then disappeared entirely, and trees closed in on both sides—older, wilder than anything in Blackwood territory. Elena felt watched, which she knew made no sense. Trees didn't watch. She couldn't shake the feeling anyway.

"Are you cold?" Maya asked.

"No."

"You've got your arms wrapped around yourself."

"I didn't notice."

Maya frowned. "Are you feeling sick?"

Elena stopped walking instead of answering. Something had moved beneath her skin—a warmth, brief, unmistakable.

Her wolf.

She held her breath. The feeling vanished.

"Elena?"

"I felt her. Just for a second."

Maya's eyes widened. "That's good."

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because she only seems to wake up when something strange happens." Elena shook her head, trying to shake the thought loose along with it. "Maybe she's healing."

"Maybe."

But Elena wasn't convinced, and she didn't say why—that the rejection should have hurt in a way she understood, a clean wound with a clear cause, and instead her wolf felt distant in a way that had nothing to do with grief. That crossing the border had caused a warmth she couldn't explain. That Adrian had said something wasn't right, and some small, hated part of her kept turning the words over like they mattered.

She pushed the thought away. She didn't want to think about him. Not now.

A branch snapped somewhere ahead. Both of them froze.

Maya reached for her bag. Elena's hand went to her knife. Nothing moved for a long moment—and then a figure stepped out from behind a tree, and Maya nearly screamed.

The stranger from the cabin. Same dark travel clothes, same bow across his back, an expression that looked, if anything, annoyed.

"Put that down," he said, looking at the knife.

Elena didn't. "You again."

His eyes moved between them. "You left the settlement."

"Did you expect us to stay?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

He glanced back down the road they'd come from. "You weren't followed."

"How do you know?"

"Because I was watching."

"Watching us?" Maya said, sharp.

He ignored her. Elena felt her anger rise, clean and simple after two days of fear. "Who are you?"

"I told you before."

"You told me nothing."

Something flickered across his face—recognition again, or something close to concern—and vanished before she could be sure of it.

"You need to keep moving," he said.

Elena laughed without humor. "That's becoming a very popular suggestion."

"You don't understand what you're involved in."

"Then explain it."

"I can't."

"Won't."

His jaw tightened. "Both."

"You're not very helpful," Maya said, arms crossed.

"That's also been said before."

"What do you want from me?" Elena asked.

His expression turned serious. "Nothing."

"Then why do you keep appearing?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his whole body changed—shoulders squaring, eyes cutting toward the trees with a stillness that hadn't been there a second before.

"What?" Elena asked.

"Move."

Her heart dropped. "What is it?"

"Now."

He stepped forward and closed a hand around her arm. She pulled free instantly. "Don't touch me."

"Then listen." His voice had dropped low, urgent. "Get off the road."

Maya didn't wait for an explanation. She grabbed Elena's hand, and they followed him into the trees, moving fast and low, Elena straining to hear anything behind them and hearing nothing, which frightened her more than noise would have.

He stopped them near a rocky slope. "Stay here."

"You are not leaving again."

"You're very determined."

"I'm very tired of mysterious men telling me what to do."

Something almost amused crossed his face before it vanished. "Stay," he said again, and disappeared into the trees.

Maya turned to her. "I don't like him."

"I know."

"Do you trust him?"

"No."

"Then why are we doing what he says?"

Elena opened her mouth and found she didn't have an answer.

A few moments later, voices drifted through the trees. Several men, moving along the road they'd just left. Maya pressed a hand over her mouth. Elena crouched lower, and through the branches she saw dark shapes moving—the riders, at least three, maybe four. The man with the scar was among them.

Her heart beat hard against her ribs. "They're following us," Maya breathed.

One rider stopped. He turned toward the trees, and for one terrible second Elena was certain he was looking directly at her. Then another man said something, and he turned away, and the group continued down the road.

Elena waited, and waited, until the sound finally faded to nothing.

The stranger returned. "Now you understand."

Elena stood. "What do they want?"

"That's what you need to find out."

"You're joking."

"No."

"You know something."

"I know enough to tell you that staying in towns is dangerous."

She stepped closer to him. "Why are they looking for me?"

He hesitated—just a second, but she saw it.

"You know," she said quietly.

"I know that you should keep moving."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

"Then give me one."

He looked up at the sky instead, where morning had finally arrived, pale light filtering down through the branches. "You should go east."

"East?"

"There's a place beyond the mountains."

"What place?"

"Somewhere you might find answers."

"We're not following a stranger into the mountains," Maya said flatly.

"Smart."

"Thank you."

"But you don't have many choices."

Elena hated that he was right. No money worth mentioning. No home. No idea who was hunting her, or why the fear of it had started to feel less like danger and more like recognition—like something reaching for her that already knew her name. She'd thought, once, that Adrian's rejection was the worst thing that could happen to her.

Now she understood it had only opened a door.

"What's your name?" she asked.

For a moment he looked like he might actually answer.

"Names are dangerous," he said instead.

"That's ridiculous."

"Sometimes."

He stepped back. "Go east."

"Wait." She followed him a step. He stopped.

"What?"

"You keep helping us."

"I'm not helping you."

"Then what are you doing?"

Something shifted in his expression—the first thing she'd seen on his face that looked entirely unguarded. Something close to regret.

"Trying not to be too late," he said.

Before she could ask what that meant, he turned and vanished into the trees.

Maya stared after him. "Well."

"What?"

"I hate mysterious people."

"You're becoming mysterious too," Elena said, and didn't answer when Maya looked at her strangely for it.

They stood there a while. Then Maya picked up her bag. "So."

Elena looked east, toward the mountains waiting pale and distant. She had no idea what lay beyond them, no idea if the stranger was leading them toward answers or directly into danger. But staying wasn't safe, and going back wasn't a choice that existed anymore.

"East," she said.

Maya sighed. "Of course."

They started walking.

---

Adrian Blackwood crossed the northern border before midday.

The rain had stopped overnight, leaving the forest wet and cold, the ground soft beneath his horse's hooves. He rode ahead of the patrols, his wolf restless in a way that hadn't eased since before dawn. The feeling hadn't left him since the night before—not his own fear, but hers, sharp and sourceless, arriving in flashes he couldn't predict or control.

He had no right to feel any of it. He'd given up that right the moment he'd said the words in front of the whole pack. Still, his wolf pulled him forward, insistent, and he'd stopped trying to argue with it somewhere around midnight.

A guard rode up beside him. "Alpha."

"What?"

"We found tracks. Heading east."

Adrian dismounted before the horse had fully stopped and crouched near the ground. Two sets of footprints, small, days old but readable. Elena's. Maya's. Nothing else he recognized.

"How old?"

"A few hours."

His chest tightened. Close. Closer than he'd let himself hope.

"Continue east."

The guard hesitated. "Alpha, should we send word back to the pack?"

"No."

"What about Serena?"

Adrian went still at the name. He'd nearly forgotten she was waiting for him at all, and the realization brought him no comfort, only a fresh weight added to everything else he was carrying north with him.

"Tell her nothing."

The guard nodded and said no more. Adrian mounted again, and before they could move, pain tore through his chest without warning, sharp enough to bend him forward over the saddle.

"Alpha?"

It vanished as fast as it had come, and in its place was a brief, unexplainable warmth, and then nothing at all. Adrian stared east, toward the trees where the tracks led, and felt his wolf stir beneath his skin.

*She is alive.*

Relief hit him so fast and so completely that he hated himself for how much it cost him not to feel it.

*For now,* the wolf added.

His jaw tightened. "Ride."

They moved east.

---

Elena didn't know how long they'd been walking when Maya finally stopped.

"I think we're lost."

"We're not lost."

"Elena."

She looked around. Every direction looked the same—trees, undergrowth, no path worth the name. "Okay," she admitted. "Maybe a little."

Maya sat down hard on a fallen log. "We need food."

"I know."

"And water."

"I know."

"And a plan."

"I definitely know that."

Maya gave her a look, and Elena was about to say something else when a faint sound reached her. She raised a hand, and Maya went quiet. The sound came again—not footsteps. Water.

They followed it to a narrow stream cutting between the trees. Maya dropped to her knees at the bank and drank from cupped hands while Elena stood watch, scanning the treeline out of habit now more than fear.

Something caught her eye across the water—a glint of silver half-hidden beneath a flat stone. She crossed carefully, boots slipping on wet rock, and crouched to pick it up.

A small metal pendant, old and cold in her palm. The symbol carved into its face meant nothing to her at first glance: a crescent moon crossed by three thin lines.

She turned it over. Words were engraved on the back, the letters faded but legible if she tilted it toward the light.

*Return what was taken.*

"Elena?"

She looked up. Maya had gone pale, staring past her.

"What?"

Maya pointed. Elena turned and followed her gaze across the stream, to the trunk of an ancient tree where the same symbol had been carved deep into the bark—the crescent moon, the three lines, weathered but unmistakable.

Elena's fingers closed around the pendant without her deciding to. A strange warmth moved up through her wrist, and for one impossible second she thought she saw something glimmer beneath her own skin—faint, silver, gone before she could be sure it had been there at all.

"Did you see that?" Maya whispered.

Elena closed her hand tighter around the pendant.

"No," she said, though her voice came out barely louder than the stream itself.

Because for the first time since she'd walked out of the Blackwood packhouse, Elena wasn't sure which frightened her more—the people who seemed to be hunting her across two territories and a border she'd thought would make her invisible.

Or the growing, cold certainty that whoever they were, they already knew exactly who she was.