Chapter 21 The Feast of Red Moons
The Red Moons rose only once every century—three blood-tinted crescents climbing the sky at perfect intervals, staining the world with crimson light. A sacred omen. A night when vampire power swelled and instincts sharpened. A night where truths could be revealed… or buried forever.
Lyrathia felt the moon’s pull before she even opened her eyes at dusk. Her magic throbbed in her veins, restless and electric, a hum beneath her skin that made every sensation sharper.
Unfortunately, that included her awareness of Kael.
He had been assigned to escort her the moment the Council announced the festival’s opening. Normally, she would’ve chosen one of her seasoned guards—someone emotionless, predictable. But tonight, the bond tugged insistently, steering her toward him with every breath she took.
She hated it.
She craved it.
And as she stepped into the palace’s grand atrium, she found Kael waiting.
He stood at the base of the marble staircase, dressed not in armor but formal festival attire—black layered leather trimmed in silver, with a deep crimson sash that marked him as her chosen escort. It fit him too well. Uncomfortably well.
His golden eyes dragged across her slowly.
Lyrathia wore traditional ceremonial silks of ink-black and deep red, her corseted bodice lined with onyx shards, her shoulders draped in a shimmering cloak of shadowweave. Midnight roses threaded through her hair like living gems.
Kael stared openly—longer than was appropriate.
“You look…” His voice trailed off, thick and uneven.
“Prepared for the festival?” she finished sharply, refusing to acknowledge the heat crawling up her neck.
“Dangerous,” he said instead. “And breathtaking.”
Her pulse stuttered. “Be careful with your words.”
“I am,” he answered quietly. “More than you know.”
She moved past him before he could say more, her cloak whispering against the stone.
“Come,” she commanded. “We must greet the court.”
Kael followed, but she felt the echo of his admiration humming along their faint emotional bond. It rattled her more than she wanted to admit.
The Feast of Red Moons was held in the upper terraces of Frostwind Castle—a vast open-air courtyard where lanterns made of crystallized bloodstones floated like drifting stars. The sky above was a deep velvet, cut by three hovering red crescents that bathed the gathering in unnatural light.
Nobles filled the terrace—draped in shimmering fabrics, voices sharp with gossip, fangs glinting as they tasted enchanted wine.
And as soon as Lyrathia stepped inside with Kael at her side, conversations halted.
Silence rippled outward like a shockwave.
Their gazes were hungry. Intrusive. Calculating.
Then, one by one, they bowed.
“Your Radiance,” they murmured in unison.
She lifted her chin. “Rise.”
But even when they did, most of their attention lingered on Kael—the mortal bound to their queen, the man she’d publicly claimed, the man she had nearly kissed last night.
Kael shifted uneasily. “They’re staring.”
“Of course they are,” she said. “You’re the scandal of the century.”
“Comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
His lips twitched, just barely, as though resisting a smile.
They moved deeper into the crowd, and nobles flocked toward them in carefully orchestrated waves.
“Your Radiance, such a lovely escort this evening,” purred Duchess Varnal, her red eyes flicking between Lyrathia and Kael. “Quite the bold choice.”
“Boldness has never frightened me,” Lyrathia replied coldly.
Another noble stepped forward. “Will we see a bonding ceremony soon?”
Kael choked.
Lyrathia’s expression turned glacial. “If such an event occurs, the court will be the last to know.”
A ripple of nervous laughter spread.
But Kael was too stunned to speak.
They continued forward, and she felt his tension through the bond—uneasy, overwhelmed, and beneath it all… something warmer.
Desire.
Not aggressive.
Not demanding.
Just there, simmering beneath his skin.
The moons amplified it.
Her blood heated in response.
This was a mistake.
She should have chosen anyone else tonight. Rao. Rhea. Even Thalen. Anyone but the one man whose closeness made her curse strain painfully.
She led Kael toward the balcony overlooking the frozen canyon, hoping for a moment of breath. But instead, she found trouble waiting.
Prince Callior leaned casually against the railing, his silver hair gleaming under the moons, his posture too relaxed to be anything but intentional.
“Ah. Your Radiance,” he drawled. “And your… companion.”
Kael stiffened instantly.
Callior smirked. “Is he allowed to speak for himself, or does he simply glare?”
“Speak carefully,” Lyrathia warned.
“Oh, I intend to.” Callior’s eyes raked across Kael with mocking curiosity. “Tell me, mortal, how does it feel to be claimed like a pet in front of the entire court?”
Kael moved before she could stop him.
He stepped forward, eyes blazing, voice low and lethal.
“Want to see how it feels to get thrown off this balcony? We can test it.”
Callior blinked, startled. “Fiery, aren’t you?”
“Try me.”
Lyrathia grabbed Kael’s arm instinctively—then immediately regretted it.
Heat roared through her at the touch. Her magic surged wildly, her skin sparking with uncontrolled energy. She felt Kael’s breath hitch as their emotions tangled briefly—his anger, her instinctive protectiveness, the magnetic pull between them tightening like a snare.
She released him instantly, heart racing.
Callior raised a brow. “Fascinating.”
“You are done here,” Lyrathia growled.
“Of course,” Callior said smoothly. “Do enjoy your night… both of you.”
He bowed mockingly before disappearing into the crowd.
Kael let out a sharp breath. “Is every noble here insufferable?”
“Most of them,” she said.
“And the rest?”
“Ambitious enough to pretend they are not.”
He huffed a laugh. Then he looked at her.
Really looked.
The moons turned her eyes to burning crimson, her hair a river of silver flame. Kael’s gaze softened, admiration unmistakable.
“You handled him well,” he said.
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
“You didn’t have to defend me.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I did.”
Their eyes locked. A pulse of something electric tightened between them.
Kael stepped closer. Too close. “You look… different tonight.”
“Different how?”
“Alive,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
“Kael,” she whispered. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this—not here.”
But he kept moving forward, slow and deliberate, until she felt the heat of his body against the cold night air.
“You’re afraid again,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You think I care?” His voice dipped lower. “I’m not afraid of you. Or of whatever this is.”
She swallowed. “You should be.”
Instead of answering, he reached out—hesitating only a second—before lifting the edge of her cloak.
His fingers brushed the bare skin of her shoulder.
A mistake.
A terrible, exquisite mistake.
Her magic surged, slamming into her chest like a tidal wave. She sucked in a breath, her knees weakening. Kael stepped closer instinctively, steadying her.
“Lyrathia—?”
She grabbed his wrist, not to pull away, but to anchor herself… or maybe to stop him from stepping any closer.
It didn’t matter.
The moonlight painted him in red fire. The music from the feast drifted around them—low, pulsing, intimate. Their breaths mingled.
“If you kiss me tonight,” she whispered, “I will not be able to stop.”
Kael exhaled sharply. “Then don’t stop.”
“I could break you.”
“Try.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He leaned in—
So close—
Closer—
Then—
A crash echoed from inside the terrace. Screams followed—shouts of alarm, the clatter of overturned tables, the snarling of creatures gone wild.
The festival erupted into chaos.
Lyrathia jerked her head toward the sound, curse snapping back into cold focus.
Kael drew his blade instantly. “What was that?”
She felt it before she saw it—a tremor of dark magic spreading through the crowd.
“An attack,” she hissed. “Someone used the festival as cover.”
Kael moved to stand in front of her, protective instinct blazing.
“Stay behind me,” he growled.
Lyrathia’s lips curved in a deadly smile. “Not a chance.”
Together, they charged toward the chaos—their almost-kiss swallowed by violence, but the tension burning fiercer than ever.