The Luna Trials
1396 Words
Neris said, silver eyes tightening. “The king’s choice.”
Lucian didn’t flinch. “Plainly: I want Talia as my mate and queen. The Council requested terms. I accept terms—within reason.”
He doesn’t hide it. He claims us before them all.
Judge Howell lifted his mic. His voice was gravel dragged over steel.
“Within reason means within law. The last queen died with a child in her. We will not bury another because feelings outran judgment.”
Mira’s gaze slid to Talia, venomous. “Feelings,” she murmured. “Cute.”
Kaela’s tail lashed. Let me at her.
Later, Talia soothed, though her fingers curled.
Howell continued. “Public terms: one, a bond contract. Private terms stay private. Publicly, the queen will serve the crown, protect the vulnerable, and—if the Goddess grants it—bear heirs at the pace the pair chooses. No quotas. No timelines.”
Lucian’s jaw shifted, but he said nothing.
“Two,” Howell pressed on. “Trials. Not games. Proof of competency. Talia Graves has passed the Rescue Trial.”
A murmur swelled. The nursery parents were ushered forward. The infant she had dragged from the flames stirred.
The mother’s hands shook. “He’s alive because of you. If you accept, he can be named to your protection. Not as ward, as guide, if ever we cannot be.”
The father’s voice was steady. “It’s an honor we can never repay.”
Heat stung Talia’s eyes. She took the baby—warm, smelling of milk and smoke. Kaela melted, a growl-purr of tenderness.
Pup. Keep.
“I accept,” Talia whispered. “I’ll show up for him. Whoever he becomes.”
The mother sobbed. The chamber exhaled.
Neris lifted her hand. “The nursery child is named Under-Queen’s Charge. We support you.”
The mother cried again. The father bowed. Talia’s arms ached with the ghost-weight of the child.
Howell continued. “Three: the Marsh Trial. Navigate the warded fen. Read seams, break nets, and cross safely. Failure means disqualification. Her aunt—Amalia Graves—has been summoned to teach inheritance skills we cannot. Four hours. No more.”
The point of this trial is clear. The Queen must ensure she can navigate the warded fen. Read and break seams and nets and return herself and her people as a guide to safety.
Talia’s heart jolted. Amalia. Her father’s sister. She had thought she had no other kin but Alina.
“And four,” Howell said. “The Luna Trial. Traditional. Luna versus Luna. Weapons permitted. First to yield loses. Killing forbidden. Permanent maiming forbidden. Disfigurement may result—allowed.”
The chamber gasped as one.
Steel chairs creaked. Someone’s claws scraped the floor.
Lucian’s shoulders locked, cords in his forearms taut. Frost gathered behind his eyes.
Mira’s smile sharpened, hungry.
Kaela snarled. I’ll take her eyes first.
Talia swallowed. “That’s… graphic.”
“Traditional,” Howell said dryly. “It keeps the audience respectful.”
Alina gripped her hand. “I hate this.”
Talia squeezed. “I can win.”
Lucian turned slightly toward Howell. The air froze.
“If she bleeds,” he said softly, lethal, “the one responsible answers to me.”
Mira tapped one nail on her chair. Tink. Tink. Tink.
Her smile didn’t move.
Howell’s gaze swept. “A Luna to be of the Black River Pack, Mira of the North, do you accept as an opponent?”
Mira’s smile was winter sun—bright, brittle. “Gladly.”
Talia felt Lucian go still, every muscle wanting to stand between them.
Mira leaned closer, honeyed poison.
She crossed her legs slowly, deliberately.
Her heel tapped once on stone — a slow, elegant threat. "You know," she paused for effect. "I could have had Lucian or Casius. Or both. "
She looked at her nails, glossy and perfect, as though they had more to say than she did.
“But I was too much for them.”
The chamber cooled by a degree. The Wardens didn’t move, but every wolf felt it — that faint ripple of old menace that clung to Mira like perfume.
She angled her chin so Alina was included in the disclosure, eyes sliding to the side with lazy provocation.
“I suppose the world is unkind to hungry girls,” Mira murmured.
Mira’s lips curved.
“Everyone wants a queen,” she sighed, “until she bites.”
Then Mira’s lashes lowered. “For the record—I’ve had both your men.”
The room tensed. All eyes turned to Talia, waiting for her reaction.
Lucian’s expression didn’t change. Neither did Casius’s. Their stillness said everything: bait, not confession.
Talia let a beat pass. Then she smiled like she’d found a coin. “Then you know I got the better end of the deal.”
Thomas went beet red. A few wardens smirked. Neris coughed a laugh.
Kaela purred. Good. Bite back.
Mira’s eyes cooled. “Enjoy what you have. Night takes things.”
“Tonight?” Alina blurted, then winced. “That’s just… fast.”
Howell softened a fraction. “Delays get people killed. The arena is prepped. Medics on standby. Cameras recording. We keep blood sport under lights and walls, if we do it at all.”
“Your training with Amalia begins tomorrow, if trial two goes well for you tonight.” Howell quickly finished.
Lucian’s voice cut through. “I did not agree to this timeline.”
“No,” Howell said. “We did.”
Neris leaned forward. “And last. The Final Trial exists. Not to be discussed in open session. It measures what contracts cannot—loyalty when loyalty costs, clarity when pride tempts, choosing the living over ego.”
Talia met her gaze. “Understood.”
Kaela muttered. Shady. But we like winning.
“With that,” Howell declared, “we affirm the king’s choice—with conditions. Talia Graves is accepted as the intended mate and future queen, pending successful completion of the Luna trials and private terms.”
Neris cleared her throat, adding, “Alina Graves, your aunt, will aid your education. She is a healer. Our campus has a joint program with the university hospital. Shadow days, class nights. Captain Dei will set your schedule.”
Alina gasped. “Yes. Please. Yes.”
Casius didn’t look at her, but his posture eased.
“Final announcement,” Howell said. “Containment remains in force. Thomas and his Beta are confined. Mira attends under the banner of privilege. Any attempt to leave triggers a response none will enjoy.”
“Noted,” Thomas said smoothly.
The gavel cracked like a starter pistol, signaling the official start of the trials.
Mira only stared at Talia. Unblinking.
Lucian’s voice was low. “We recess. Arena at nineteen hundred. Equipment check to ensure no tampering, immediately before start time.” His eyes found Talia last, heat and steel. “Eat. And breathe.”
Kaela hummed. And sharpen your claws.
The chamber emptied. Aunt Amalia slipped in, smelling of rosemary and old books. She swept Talia into a hug.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured. “You look like your father, with your mother's coloring.”
Talia’s laugh broke into a sob. “We didn’t know we still had family.”
“We have a lot to do,” Amalia said. She turned to Alina. “Coffee first. Then we begin.”
Talia nodded. “Okay.”
A shadow crossed the doorway. Mira paused, smirk sliding like a knife. “Wear something you don’t mind bleeding in.”
Kaela’s hackles lifted. I’ll enjoy gutting her.
Talia smiled without teeth. “Disfiguring is allowed.”
Mira’s smile slipped a fraction. Then she was gone.
Lucian passed, brushing Talia’s hand. Possessive. Protective.
Kaela purred.
Casius spoke low to the captain. “The nursery fire was a distraction. They’ll kill children to catch attention. Now they have it. Eyes on everything.”
“Copy,” the captain said.
Amalia said, casually, “When we’re done with seams, we’ll talk about Elias. He left you things.”
The world tilted. Her father. His secrets.
“Okay,” Talia whispered.
“Good,” Amalia said briskly. “Come, queen, let's prepare you.”
At the end of the corridor loomed the arena doors. Beyond them: lights, weapons, and Mira’s waiting smirk.
- Writer
