All Chapters of Rejected Luna: Royal blood : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The stroll to Ironclaw took longer than it ought to. By the time I looked over the tree line, which divided Shadowcrest and open country, the moon was rising, and the cold had made teeth chatter. I drew my cloak still warmer round, my feet sinking in the frost-bitten ground. Marcus said something to me that followed me like smoke that I could not escape. “You are the key to something bigger than getting packs together.” I did not want to become a key. I did not want to be a weapon, a prophecy, or a load in a lineage of blood. But I was accustomed quickly to the sensation of being desired, of belonging somewhere, even before the ground ceased being under my feet. Before I could reach the outer wall, the torches at the gate of Ironclaw were lit, and the flames were being blown about by the night wind. As I went under the sentries on the parapet, they looked down. One nodded. The other turned a blind eye. I noticed that. The manner in which eyes drifted off me now in uncertainty,

When alone and unoccupied, the Great Hall was a different place.The stone tables, all long, the banners, the frozen fire at the extreme end of it all—everything of it seemed diminished somehow, as though the chamber had drawn breath since the pack had swept away.The fingers of Rollins were still interwoven with mine. Neither of us stood up to take his departure."We would sort it out," he said. I did go on turning that over in my mind, and troublesome it was to feel how heavy a stone I was not convinced it would be. Together. Like it was simple. As though I had not just gone in the presence of our whole pack and told them I was a thing none of them thoroughly knew yet."You shaking yet?" Rollins asked in a low tone.I hadn't noticed. I peered down at my hand that was free, and he was right—there was a gentle trembling, though hardly noticeable."I’m fine," I said."Emily."Just my name. Nothing else. But the manner he did it stayed the lie out of me."I am not fine," I replied. "But

Liam had not been in his quarters.I tapped twice, first with a gentle stroke, and the second with my ear to the cold wood, to hear whether there was any movement within. Nothing. The corridor was bare, the torches still lit from the night before, their illumination pale and thin on the gray of morning streaming through the small windows.I considered going back to the great hall and waiting.I didn't.I descended the back stairwell the kitchen staff used, steadying myself against the rough stone wall in the darkness. These were narrow steps, worn smooth in the middle by years of foot traffic — people who served and cooked, the invisible people who kept the keep going while the rest of the pack slept. I previously did not pay much attention to them.I was paying attention now.As I went down, the odor of bread and woodsmoke became stronger. There was a pot clanging below. Somebody laughed — short and commonplace.This morning everything was ordinary.And that was the hassle.I turned

Emily's POV It was a long day for Marcus’ first day at Ironclaw. Not like days that are long with nothing going on. Like that days spilled long when there was too much going on under the surface and everybody was lying. At dawn, as expected, he came, and one of the warriors was seated by the outer gate all the day without complaint. Liam followed him at the yard door and kept within easy reach all that lay behind him all the hours that followed, never hovering, but within sight. A mute, deliberate recollection of the terms. Rollins failed to accompany us. This was the case and not the entire truth with him having pack business. I sensed him in the bond all the morning, that depth, that low, strict tension, as a bowstring at full length, and taut. He was managing it. It was always manageable by Rollins. But I had a feeling of every hour of it. The actual training process was very simple. Marcus maintained a cool approach in which his tone was professional and free of any persona

I didn't go to Rollins straight away.I had to venture in first — around the inner yard, past the armory and the stables and the eastern wall where the frost had not yet entirely melted out even though it was now half past the morning. I must have the cold air, and the sound of the things of ordinary. Boots on stone. The scarcely spoken word of warriors who turned off the morning patrol. Someone in the stable breathing animals and creating noise with its mount.Normal, I told myself. Everything is normal.But my hands were not so steady and the object I had touched in that dark silent spot when I had been there at the time I was doing the session was not fading in the way I had said it fades but is sitting. Sinking lower. Seeking solace in this derailing permanence within me.By the time I got to the stairway leading to the upper passage I had formed a resolution.I was not going to tell Rollins of the thing itself. Not yet. Not till I knew what I was saying to him. The previous occas