The Untouched Moon Queen: The Sacred Bond

Princess Adalyn The first time I saw a girl kiss a boy in public, I thought she must have been the bravest person alive. Not because the kiss was dramatic. It wasn’t. It was quick. Laughing. Almost clumsy. The boy had a paper bag of honey-roasted moon almonds tucked under one arm, and the girl had powdered sugar on her chin from a crescent cake she had clearly eaten too fast. He said something that made her roll her eyes, and then she grabbed the front of his jacket, stood on her toes, and kissed him right there in the middle of the festival street. No bells rang. No guards shouted. No elder fainted from scandal. No one dragged her away and declared her ruined. The world simply continued. A vendor kept calling out prices for candied plums. Children chased each other beneath strings of glowing lanterns. A musician near the fountain played a bright, silly tune that made three old women clap along off-beat. And the girl laughed against the boy’s mouth like kissing him was the easiest thing in the world. I pressed my fingers to the glass. “How strange,” I whispered. Sonny stirred inside me, warm and golden as sunlight over moss. What is strange? “That she can just do that.” Breathe? Laugh? Eat too much sugar? “Kiss him.” Sonny went quiet for half a heartbeat. Then she huffed. You say that like kissing is a crime. I glanced over my shoulder even though no one was in my chamber except my reflection, three silver hairpins, and the ceremonial gown waiting on its stand like a very beautiful prison. “For me, it might be.” The gown shimmered beneath the moonstone lamps. White silk. Silver thread. Tiny pearls sewn along the bodice in the pattern of sacred constellations. It was the kind of dress little girls in the pack dreamed of wearing. I had dreamed of wearing boots. Soft brown ones, maybe. The kind that could get muddy without making six attendants gasp. The kind girls wore when they ran through festival streets with their hair loose and sugar on their faces. I smiled at the thought. Then I felt silly for smiling. A High Priestess Princess was not supposed to envy muddy boots. A High Priestess Princess was supposed to be grateful. I was the last born royal female of the Moon Goddess’s sacred bloodline. The untouched daughter of the crown. The living vessel of prophecy. The girl whose purity protected the largest werewolf pack in the realm. That was what the council said. Every morning. Every ceremony. Every time I looked too long at the world outside the palace gates. I was not trapped. I was treasured. I was not lonely. I was sacred. I was not forbidden from living. I was being preserved. At least, that was what I tried to believe. A knock sounded at my chamber door. I jumped like I had been caught doing something terrible, even though all I had done was watch strangers kiss from three stories above the courtyard. “Princess Adalyn?” called Mira, my personal attendant. “The council is ready for you.” I stepped away from the window. Outside, the festival girl kissed her boy again. This time, I looked away first. “Coming,” I called. Sonny stretched inside my chest, claws flexing against the soft walls of my restraint. You know, she said, we could jump from the balcony. I nearly tripped over the hem of my robe. “Sonny.” What? We would land. “That is not the point.” It is always the point. I pressed my lips together to stop from laughing. If the council heard me giggling to myself before the Moon Vigil, they would summon a healer, three elders, and probably a priest to inspect my spiritual discipline. I crossed the room and stood before the mirror. The girl staring back at me looked exactly like everyone expected her to look. Soft dark hair brushed until it fell in glossy waves down her back. Wide eyes lined in silver dust. A delicate moonstone circlet resting against her forehead. White silk covering every inch of skin the sacred laws demanded remain untouched. Untouched. That word followed me everywhere. Untouched princess. Untouched priestess. Untouched queen. Sometimes I wondered if anyone remembered my name when they were not saying it in prayer. Adalyn. Addie, Sonny corrected softly. Only Sonny called me that. Not Princess. Not Priestess. Not Sacred Highness. Addie. The name felt like bare feet in grass. Mira slipped inside, carrying my ceremonial veil. She was only a few years older than me, but she always looked worried in the palace, as if the walls themselves were listening. Because they probably were. “You were at the window again,” she whispered. I blinked too innocently. “No.” Mira raised a brow. I smiled. She sighed. “Princess.” “I was not doing anything wrong.” “I know.” Her voice softened. “That does not mean they will.” My smile faded. That was the thing about the council. They could make anything wrong if they wanted to. Looking too long. Asking too much. Laughing too loudly. Touching someone without permission. Being touched at all. Mira placed the veil over my hair with careful hands. The fabric was so thin it looked like mist, but the moment it fell over my face, I felt the weight of it everywhere. “There,” she said. “You look perfect.” Perfect. The loneliest word in the world. I turned toward the door. Halfway there, I heard shouting from outside. Not festival laughter this time. A sharp cry. A crash. A sound that cut through the music like a blade. I froze. Sonny rose instantly. Not stretching now. Not teasing. Her presence filled me, bright and fierce, and my whole body changed with it. My spine straightened. My hearing sharpened. My pulse slowed. Danger, she said. I moved before I thought. Mira grabbed my wrist. “Adalyn, wait. The guards—” But I was already running. The veil tore loose from my hair as I shoved open the balcony doors and stepped into the night air. Below, near the side gate, a little boy had fallen beneath a frightened carriage wolf. The animal reared, huge paws striking sparks from the stone. People screamed and scattered. The guards were too far away. The boy curled into himself, frozen. My heart lurched. For one terrible second, I was the girl the council had raised. Soft. Sheltered. Obedient. Waiting for someone else to act. Then Sonny snarled. Move. I jumped. Mira screamed my name behind me. The wind tore through my hair and snapped my ceremonial sleeves against my arms. The courtyard rushed up beneath me, all silver stone and shocked faces. I landed harder than I should have, pain flashing through my knees, but Sonny took most of it. Power surged through my bones, hot and wild. The carriage wolf came down. I stepped between its hooves and the boy. “Stop.” My voice was not loud. It did not need to be. The wolf froze. Its wild eyes locked onto mine. Foam clung to its teeth. Its body trembled with panic, but Sonny pushed through me, ancient and golden and utterly unafraid. The animal lowered its head. The courtyard went silent. I crouched slowly and reached for the boy. “Are you hurt?” He stared at me with round, tearful eyes. “You’re the princess.” I smiled, breathless. “I am.” “You jumped from a balcony.” “Yes.” I glanced up at the height and immediately regretted it. “Please don’t tell anyone that part was a little fun.” The boy blinked. Then he laughed. And because he laughed, I did too. For one small second, kneeling on the ground with torn silk around my knees and moonlight in my hair, I felt almost normal. Then the council bells began to ring. My laughter died. Across the courtyard, the High Elder stood at the palace steps, his silver robes glowing beneath the lanterns. His face was calm. Too calm. “Princess Adalyn,” he said, voice carrying over the entire courtyard. “The Moon Vigil awaits.” Not Are you hurt? Not You saved him. Not Thank you. Just the ritual. The law. The reminder. I rose slowly. The crowd bowed. The little boy clung to my hand for one extra heartbeat before his mother rushed forward and pulled him away, sobbing apologies. I wanted to tell her not to apologize. I wanted to ask the boy his name. I wanted to stay in the courtyard where people smelled like sugar and fear and life. But the High Elder extended one pale hand toward the temple doors. Sonny growled low inside me. I do not like him. I swallowed. The council watched me with soft smiles and sharp eyes. I lifted my chin and walked toward them. Because that was what good princesses did. They returned to their cages before anyone had to drag them there.