I stayed in the shadow of the alcove until their voices faded.
“Tomorrow night. Under the moon.”
Same words. Same cold certainty. Different from me.
In my last life, those words had meant a blissful kind of ignorance. A “special night” I’d been told to prepare for—a blessing, a ritual, a chance to prove myself as Luna. I’d fretted over my dress, over whether Lucian would stand close to me, over whether my parents would finally look at me the way they looked at Lena.
I hadn’t known those words were the rhythm of a funeral march.
Now, they felt like the ticking of a bomb.
When I was sure Victor and Lena had gone—footsteps receding down the corridor, quiet laughter trailing behind—I slipped out of my hiding place and headed for my room.
My hands were cold. My palms felt slick.
“Tomorr
