Page 26

Eventually, stars willing.

Three faces appeared above her, their shite eating smirks a mirror for the one Lunara wore inside. They thought they’d won. Thought she’d finally accept a blood gift, feed, and that would be that.

She’d do it to keep them off her back, but it was far from their victory.

“Had enough, Sorcerit?” Faldir asked, the scar down his face pulling when he smirked. “Or would you like to keep flapping your limbs about for a bit longer?”

Ooh, turn him into something hideous.

Tempting.

“I’ve been thoroughly bested, Third Commander,” Lunara rasped as she struggled to sitting. “Have mercy.”

“Not likely.” Hedda gave Lunara a hand up, then brushed the sawdust from her borrowed sparring linens. “You’ve given us a chance to make you a warrior, and Fal eats tough love for breakfast.”

Fern giggled. “Basically, you’re fucked.”

Probably.

Lunara ignored that and responded to Hedda instead. “Look who’s talking. I seem to remember my unofficial first fighting lesson starting with your fist to my gut.”

She started limping towards the castle, hoping the movement might help loosen some of the worst twinges.

“True. You handled that well, and I’m sure this will be no different.” Hedda grabbed hold of her wrist and spun her around. “Just as soon as you’ve fed.”

Everyone was looking at Lunara like they expected her to do it right there. “I haven’t forgotten, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good to hear.” Faldir nodded at the other two and began rolling his sleeve back. “I will give first. Accept this gift, freely⁠—”

“Stop.”

Lunara was beyond proud of the steel in her voice, especially when Faldir’s brows popped up on his forehead and he froze mid-fold.

“For one thing, I’m not feeding in the middle of a field. Don’t be ridiculous. For another, I absolutely will not be taking from anyone directly. That is non-negotiable.” Lunara pinned each of them with a look in turn, the ever-present threat of tears rearing its ugly head. “And I refuse to accept constant, rotating gifts from all of you. No”—she raised a hand when they started to protest—“I won’t bend on this. It will be hard enough for me to stomach as it is. So, I’ll feed when I absolutely need it, from a flask, in private. That is it. And only from⁠—”

“Commanders!”

A young Demon sprinted towards them across the field, her sparring linens just a tad too large. She couldn’t have been much older than Nyriadne—too young to be fighting, too old to be playing games in the cobbled streets. When she snapped to attention before their group, so earnest, Lunara wanted to rail at her to go home. To be free. To get away before she suffered the same fate as her sweet friend.

Hedda stepped right up to the girl, instantly donning the mantle of her position. “Speak, Merda.”

“Yes, Second Commander. His Highness, Araxis, has returned with His Highness, Valandyrian, in tow. They are requesting an audience with Her Highness, Lady Lunara.”

Lunara jolted and blinked at the Demon, her mouth opening and closing.

“Thank you, Merda. We’ll be there shortly.” Hedda waved her away, then turned to grip Lunara’s shoulder. “Breathe. It is what it is. Brand is our Son, and you are his mate, ergo…”

“Your Highness.” Fern whistled. “Fancy pantsies, eh?”

No. Don’t like that at all.

Not even a little bit. It reminded her of too many things all at once.

Lunara grabbed hold of her friends before they could say another word and pulled them into the ether. She’d rather face the entire Imperial Family at once, completely naked, than hear anyone else call her Your Highness.

Lunara the Moonweaver, a political complication and logistical nightmare if ever there was one, was going to bring Lyriat’s castle down if he didn’t find a way to calm the situation.

Eventually.