The Blood-Soaked Luna: Crown of Ashes

Selene POV

The silk felt like water against Selene's skin.

She twirled again, watching the midnight blue fabric flare around her ankles. Her mother had commissioned the gown specially for tonight. For the Moonlight Feast. The most important gathering the Eltharion manor had hosted in years, or so the servants kept whispering when they thought no one was listening.

Selene was always listening.

"Catch me if you can!"

Isolde's giggle exploded through the great hall like a firecracker. Selene spun just in time to see her little sister dart between two maids carrying a platter of honeyed bread, yellow dress flying behind her like a flag.

"You'll wrinkle your gown before a single guest arrives!" Selene called after her.

She was already running.

Their game wove between servants and silverware, past footmen polishing candlesticks until they could see their own faces in them. The whole manor buzzed and hummed like a hive getting ready to swarm. Selene caught Isolde near the hearth, both of them crashing together in a breathless heap of silk and laughter.

"Got you."

"You cheated. You took the shortcut by the bread table."

"That's called strategy."

"Girls."

Their mother's voice cut across the hall like a blade wrapped in velvet. Gentle. Final.

Lady Elara Eltharion stood near the main doors with her dark hair already pinned and her expression already composed. Even in a simple day dress she looked like she'd been born to stand in doorways and make everyone else feel underdressed. She smiled at her daughters, but her eyes were doing that thing. That measuring thing.

"Come here. Both of you."

Selene took Isolde's hand and they walked over together. Their mother knelt to their level, which she only ever did when something was important.

"Tonight matters," Lady Elara said quietly. "Neighboring packs are coming to celebrate kinship under the full moon. You will meet other noble children. Some of them may become allies one day. Friends."

"Or mates," Isolde whispered, then slapped both hands over her mouth.

Selene felt heat flood her cheeks. "I am ten years old."

"And I was ten once too." Their mother laughed, soft and short. "There is time for all of that later. What I need from you both tonight is your best behavior. Greet guests politely. Do not speak during the formal toasts unless you are spoken to first. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mama," they said together.

Lady Elara stood and smoothed Selene's hair back from her face. Her touch was warm. Careful. Like she was memorizing something.

"You look beautiful, darling. Both of you do." She glanced toward the corridor. "Your father will be so proud."

"Where are my girls?"

The boom of Lord Matthias's voice filled the hall before he did. He swept in from the corridor in his full formal coat, black fabric embroidered with silver thread, the Eltharion crest sitting proud over his heart. He was a Beta wolf, but no one who had ever stood in the same room as Matthias Eltharion would have guessed it. He carried authority the way other men carried weapons.

"Papa!" Isolde launched herself at him without a single second of hesitation.

He caught her easily, one arm sweeping her up and spinning her once. "My little flower. Look at you. When did you get so tall?"

"I'm seven now. Practically grown."

"Practically," he agreed, setting her down. His eyes moved to Selene. "And you. Come here."

Selene walked to him. She was trying not to let it show, that flutter in her chest. Her father had been so distant lately. Always behind closed doors. Always in meetings with pack leaders who left with tight mouths and no small talk.

He cupped her face in both hands. His palms were warm and rough and familiar.

"You look exactly like your mother." His voice dropped low. "Beautiful and strong. The Eltharion blood runs true in you, Selene."

Her wolf stirred. She couldn't shift yet, wouldn't be able to until her first moon, probably a year away still. But she could feel her wolf there. A second heartbeat. A presence curled up behind her ribs.

Right now that presence felt uneasy.

"Papa." She searched his face. "Is everything alright?"

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Of course it is. Tonight we celebrate. Politics can wait until tomorrow."

But Selene had heard the whispers. Servants forgot children had ears. Words like rebellion and southern packs and the Alpha King's patience running thin had been drifting through the halls for weeks.

A servant appeared in the doorway and bowed. "My lord. The first guests are arriving."

Lady Elara touched her hair. "Already? I need to finish getting ready."

"Go." Lord Matthias kissed her cheek. Then he looked at his daughters. "Upstairs. Both of you. Get your hair done properly. I want you looking like the noble ladies you are."

They curtsied and hurried for the stairs.

Selene glanced back once from the bottom step.

Her father stood alone in the middle of the great hall, surrounded by all that careful preparation and blazing candlelight, staring at nothing. His shoulders were a wall. His jaw was stone.

Something was wrong.

"Come on!" Isolde yanked her hand. "I want flowers braided in my hair!"

Selene let herself be pulled up the stairs.

Whatever it was, it was adult business.

At least that's what she told herself.