His Silent Luna

Clara

The day I met my fated mate was a day just like any other. I was cornered by a few maids in the courtyard. They shoved me, yanked my hair, and made it clear they felt I didn’t deserve to be with them as a maid.

I was an outcast among the servants because I was mute from birth. It didn't matter that I worked as hard as anyone else.

I was the lowest ranked of all the maids in the royal compound. They claimed I was defective. The other maids bullied me for it. The supervisors looked the other way.

That day, I finished a long day of work and stopped by the servants’ kitchens to collect my allotment of food for the next few days. I caught the attention of Ella, a higher ranked maid, and several of her friends.

“Look at this little mouse,” Ella blocked my way. “She stole food from the kitchen.”

Ella had always disliked the fact that I was able to work here. My adoptive mother was a senior maid in the royal household, and after I was abandoned by my biological parents because of my defects, she took me in.

I grew up in the royal compound. When I came of age, I took work as a maid. Although I had the training from my adoptive mother to be a palace servant, I was placed in the lowest ranks.

Not long ago, my adoptive mother passed away, and Ella was finally able to do whatever she wanted to me.

“Our mate is near!” my wolf informed me when I looked for a way to escape Ella and her friends. “If we find him, surely he will help us.”

I had always heard that finding your fated mate changed your life forever. My foster mother talked about how the whole world would fall away, leaving only the face of the one you were meant to be with.

I broke free from Ella and rushed outside, following the need in my heart.

I saw him from a distance. My mate was an incredibly handsome man dressed in lavish attire.

I felt an intense pull towards him, as if my wolf was desperate to leap out of my body and reach him. I froze, unable to tear my gaze away from the man I now realized must be my fated mate.

Then, Ella grabbed hold of me. She slapped my face and laughed when my mouth opened in a silent yelp.

“Were you looking at the prince?” Ella demanded.

My fated mate was a prince?

“Why would someone like you watch the prince?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t even dare to think about him!”

I couldn’t help it. I looked over towards the prince. I hoped that he would feel my presence and come to find his mate.

That enraged the bullies, and they started hitting me and pulling my hair.

I couldn’t call out for help. So the prince, my fated mate, walked away. I was left alone to face the higher ranked maids.

I wondered why he didn’t even turn his head. Couldn’t he feel our bond?

“Maybe we are too far apart for his wolf to hear me,” my wolf suggested.

I endured the kicks and punches until the others grew bored.

They enjoyed attacking me because I couldn’t speak up to defend myself or tell anyone what happened. But because I refused to let them see me react to their taunts, they usually grew bored quickly.

Finally, they left. I bit my lip and forced myself to move through the pain. I gathered the food they had scattered when they cornered me. At least this time they hadn’t destroyed my rations. That had happened before, and I went hungry.

I brushed the dirt off of myself and the food. I hurried through the courtyards that connected the various sections of the royal compound.

I lived in the farthest edge of the servant’s quarters. My room was right next to the stables. It was small, and cold, and far from my duties. But it was private, and so I loved it.

I paused to lean on the door to the stables to rest. I heard a pained groan from inside.

Worried, I ducked inside the stable. There was a man lying there in the dirty straw. His body was covered in bloody wounds.

For one moment I thought I had stumbled over a dead body. Fear stole my breath. But then the man groaned and his head tossed from side to side.

I crept closer. I crouched over the injured man, and realized that he was unconscious. The groans of pain and jerky movements were the product of a nightmare.

He didn’t know I was there. I could leave. I could go back to my room where I would be safe from whatever had hurt this man. That would be the smart thing to do.

But my conscience wouldn’t allow me to leave an injured man here. He needed help, and I couldn’t bear to watch anyone else die in front of me. Just as my kind adoptive mother took me in, I took this man in.

I crouched over the man, and grabbed him under his shoulders. He was heavy, and difficult to move even with my wolf granting me some of her strength.

It was a struggle to get the man into my room. I rolled him onto my bed, and stepped back to catch my breath. Then I lit my single lantern so that I could get a better look at him.

He was filthy and covered with so much blood it was impossible to see where he was injured. So I gathered some clean rags and a bowl of water and set about cleaning him.

Under the blood, I saw that he was quite handsome. His skin was bronze and clear of blemishes. He had brown hair and a neatly grown beard. His body under the shredded rags of his clothing was strongly muscled.

I wrapped clean gauze around the worst of his injuries. I noticed one wound, a relatively shallow cut along the back of one shoulder, seemed to be infected. I found my supply of wound salve and coated the injury with it before bandaging it carefully.

I tended his wounds long into the night. The wound on his shoulder bled so much that I had to bandage it multiple times.

I rinsed out the bowl of water and refilled it. I sacrificed one of my clean sheets so that I would have more rags. I used those to mop sweat from his brow and drip cool water on his face.

He didn’t wake up for any of it. He groaned when I washed his wounds. A few times he tossed his head as if in pain, but his eyes never opened.

I didn’t dare leave his side for more than a moment to refresh my supplies. I watched over him, counting the time between his breaths.

I was honestly afraid he might die at any moment.

I wished I could call for a doctor, but I had no money. There were healers for the servants, but you had to pay them. I barely made enough to afford my meager allotment of food. I had none to spare for a doctor.

I was fortunate that my foster mother had taught me some of the healing arts. She believed in being prepared for anything, and she passed that on to me. I was no medic, but I knew how to bandage a wound and check for infection.

I wondered who the man was, and how he’d been injured. His clothing, although ragged and bloody, was well made of fine materials. Was he a visiting noble? Perhaps he was a merchant who was attacked by Rogues on the road.

I spent the night watching over him. In a healthy werewolf, I’d expect most of his wounds to close overnight. Whatever had happened to this man was slowing his healing. The smaller wounds did close, but the largest seeped blood all night. The wound on his shoulder claimed four thick bandages.

I finally fell asleep curled over the edge of the bed with a rag in my hand. Dawn crept over the horizon. I only meant to close my eyes for a moment, but sleep claimed me.

Some time later I jerked upright, startled by the phantoms in my dreams. I looked to the man on the bed and was relieved to see he was breathing. I reached out to check the bandage on his shoulder again.

A hand wrapped around my throat. It clenched tightly enough to stop my breath.

A man’s deep voice asked, “Who are you?”