Luna To My Ex Mate

Chapter 9: The Elders' Judgment

POV: Magnus

I pulled Roxana through the halls faster than I needed to, my grip firm around her wrist. She had to lengthen her stride to keep pace with me, but she did not complain.

"Do not speak unless they ask you a direct question," I told her, not slowing down. "The Elders do not care about feelings. They only care about the bloodline."

"I understand, Alpha," she said. I glanced back once and saw her straighten the crown on her head with her free hand. Good. Let her walk in looking like she belonged there.

We reached the front gates, where five old wolves stood waiting in heavy gray robes, their faces carved deep with age and old power. Dain stepped forward first, his white hair catching the morning light.

"Alpha Magnus," Dain said, bowing his head slightly. "We came the moment we heard Morana's decree. Ninety days is a short time to secure a bloodline." His eyes shifted to Roxana, sharp and assessing.

"Elder Dain," I said, releasing her wrist. "This is Roxana, my new Luna. She understands her duty."

Dain circled her slowly, studying her the way a man studies livestock before a purchase. "You were rejected by the Vance boy just yesterday," he said. "Now you stand here as Luna. The pack is talking, girl. They say you climbed too fast."

"I did not climb, Elder Dain," Roxana said, her voice steady. "I offered myself when the throne needed stability. I intend to give Alpha Magnus a strong heir, exactly as the pack requires."

Ophelia stepped forward next, sniffing the air near her with that hunched, deliberate way she has when she's caught a scent she doesn't like. "Her scent is strange," Ophelia said, turning toward me. "There is something old clinging to her. Herbs. Witch magic, maybe."

I kept my face still, though my stomach had already gone tight. I knew exactly what Ophelia was smelling, and I knew it was not going to end with a simple explanation.

Dain's eyes narrowed, his whole body going rigid. "Witch magic," he repeated, low and cold. "On the new Luna, days before she is meant to carry the heir? Explain yourself, girl, and choose your words with care."

Roxana's spine went straight, and if she was afraid, she did not let it show on her face. "There is a witch locked in the dungeons below this house, Elder Dain," she said. "I went to question her myself."

"Question her about what?" Ophelia asked, her blind eyes still somehow fixed on her.

"The timing troubles me," Roxana said. "A witch caught on pack land the same week the Seer declares judgment over my womb. I did not believe that was simple coincidence. I wanted to know if there was a curse laid over this bloodline before it is even conceived."

I said nothing. I stood there and let her words settle into the silence, because I understood something Roxana did not know I understood. Two nights ago, in the dungeon, she told me a different story. Herbs. Fertility remedies. Nothing about a curse.

I had a choice standing there. I could correct her in front of five Elders who have burned wolves for smaller inconsistencies than a Luna who cannot keep her story straight, or I could let the lie stand and deal with her privately, later, when there were no gray robes waiting to demand a head for the confusion.

I chose silence. Not for her sake. For the pack's. An execution of a new Luna, days after her crowning, would tear this territory apart faster than any curse ever could.

The Elders murmured among themselves, glancing between one another. Dain's anger cooled slightly, replaced by something more calculating.

"A curse," Dain said slowly. "Did the witch confess to anything?"

"Not yet," Roxana said. "She is stubborn, and she knows her life is already forfeit. I did not trust the guards to ask the right questions, so I went myself. The scent you smell is from sitting close to her cell, trying to break her silence."

"You should have brought this concern to us immediately, Luna," Dain said, though his tone had lost its edge. "Curses of this nature are not something a young Luna should investigate alone."

"I did not want to waste the Elders' time on suspicion without proof," Roxana said. "I wanted to bring you something certain, not a guess."

Dain studied her a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. "Careful thinking, for one so young," he said. He turned to me. "The matter of the witch is yours to handle, Alpha Magnus. We came only to confirm the Seer's judgment stands. The bloodline is your concern to secure, curse or not."

"It will be secured," I said. "Within the ninety days, curse or no curse."

"See that it is," Dain said, already turning back toward the gates. "The pack will not wait forever."

The Elders left one by one, their gray robes disappearing past the gate, until the courtyard fell silent except for the wind.

I watched them go, my jaw tight enough to ache. The moment the last robe vanished, I let myself think clearly about what had just happened in front of me.

If she was looking for fertility herbs, she does not need three separate visits to the same cell. She does not steal down dungeon stairs in the middle of the night when she thinks no one is watching. She does not invent a curse on the spot, smooth and certain, the moment the truth about remedies stopped being enough to satisfy Ophelia's nose.

I have led wolves into war rooms and watched liars fold under half this much pressure. Roxana did not fold.

I turned to find her still standing near the gate, her hands folded in front of her like a woman waiting to be sentenced.

"Follow me," I said, already walking toward my chamber. "You will explain to me, right now, what is really going on between you and that witch. And Roxana—do not give me the herbs lie, and do not give me curses. Give me the truth, or I will find it myself, and you will not like what I would do to you.”