Chapter 18 The Lunar Gathering (1)
Malia's POV
I've been looking at myself in the mirror for ten minutes and I still don't know who that girl is that I'm seeing.
July’s dress is gorgeous — a rich midnight blue that somehow makes my skin glow, and a line of soft, silver embroidery along the neckline that twinkles a little. It clings just right to my waist and flares out to the floor in soft folds.
She’s also done my hair and makeup, and I’ve never looked more like someone who could even remotely attend a Mooncrest event.
Might.
“You look amazing,” July says as she takes a step back to appreciate her handiwork. "Seriously. Rowan will go crazy."
“It’s not a date,” I say for the hundredth time.
“Keep telling yourself that.” She smiles and tweaks one of my curls. “Okay, I gotta go meet my own date. You sure you're okay?”
“I’m well. Just nervous.”
“Don't be. You look amazing, you have a Moonfall picking you up, and I will be there if things go south.” She squeezes my hand. “We have your back, remember?”
After she goes, I practice breathing exercises to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest. The nameless warning text from last night keeps running through my head:
Be careful at the Lunar Gathering. Not everyone is rooting for you there.
There’s a knock at the door.
I open it to find Rowan in the hallway, and I have no breath to speak.
He's clad in a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored with a silver tie that complements his eyes. His hair is styled but still softly inviting. He appears as thought he belongs to a magazine.
And he’s looking at me like I’m the one who’s breathtaking.
“Wow,” he whispers. “You look... wow.”
My cheeks heat. "Thank you. You really nice too," I say.
"Nice?" He grins. “I was going for devastatingly handsome, but I’ll take nice.”
That makes me laugh and I relax some of my tension.
He offers his arm. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
—---
The Lunar Gathering takes place in the Grand Hall—a huge room I never even knew existed on campus.
As we near, I hear music pouring out of open doors and the light off of lamps and the reflection of cloth so fine it bruises hanging on racks.
My stomach knots.
“Hey.” Rowan’s voice is tender. If you’re feeling uneasy, we don’t have to stay long. Just give me the word, and we’ll go.”
"It's mandatory attendance."
“For the first hour. We’re starting to get people leaving after that.” He squeezes my arm reassuringly. “And I promise you, it’s not as scary as it looks.”
He's lying.
Right when we come through the door, I know he’s not telling the truth.
Because the Grand Hall is totally intimidating.
Crystal chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling and reflected light that bounced all around the room, making everything glow. The walls are covered with silver and white drapery, embroidered with moons phases and stars. Tables line the outside walls, piled high with food that probably costs more than my entire scholarship.
And the people.
Students dressed in designer gowns and custom suits laughed and swayed, exuding the type of confidence one enjoys if they've never doubted they have a place there.
Down at the rear, in the parking lot, mingling with the officials of the pack — older wolves in tuxedos and tailored gowns, watching their kids with pride, with calculation.
This is more than a school dance.
It's a display of power, wealth, class, and hierarchy.
And I’m a hybrid in a borrowed dress.
"Breathe,” Rowan breathes beside me. “You’ re doing awesome.”
I make an effort to apply his advice, allowing him to lead me into the room. People notice immediately. Conversations pause, heads turn.
Whispers start.
“Is that Rowan Moonfall?”
“Who is he with?”
“Oh my god, is that the hybrid?”
“Why would he bring her?”
The heat flushes my entire face, but Rowan doesn’t flinch.
He keeps walking, nodding to acquaintances with some politeness, his hand warm and steady on my arm. We make our way to a pretty quiet corner, and I'm about to say let's just stay here all night when Rowan looks at me, smiling.
"Dance with me?"
My eyes widened. "Here? Now?”
"That's generally when people dance at dances.”
“Rowan, everybody’s already staring—”
"Let them stare." His voice is soft but authoritative. “I brought you here because I wanted to be with you. Not cower in corners fearful of what other people think.”
He extends his hand, patient and benevolent.
And while every instinct in my body is yelling at me to say no, to not be seen, I do it.
His smile widens. “There we go.”
He escorts me out onto the dance floor, and I swear the entire room falls silent. Every eye on us. The Moonfall heir and the hybrid.
Dancing.
Together.
Rowan's hand comes to rest on my waist as my hand goes on to his shoulder and I struggle to recall the very basic waltz steps I learned years ago.
"Relax," he whispers. “Just follow my lead.”
The music swells—it's something classical, something elegant—and we start moving.
Rowan is a good dancer, smooth and confident, and that makes him easy to follow.
But I can hardly concentrate on the steps because I’m acutely aware of all the looks and whispers and all the speculative expressions directed at us.
“They’re all watching,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“Don’t that bother you?”
"Not even a little." He twirls me gently and when I return, he is smiling. "You know what’s bothering me? That you’re so worried about them that you’re not having a good time."
"How can I enjoy it when—"
“When what? When people have small minds? When they are judging you for things that are out of your hands?” His gaze softens. “Malia, if I worried about what every person in this room thought, I’d never do anything. I’d just be what they expect—the perfect Moonfall heir, making perfect decisions, never stepping outside the lines.”
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be?”
“Maybe. But it’s tiring.” He looks at me with something tender in his eyes. “You make me feel like I can just be Rowan. Not the heir. Not the future alpha. Just… me.”
My emotion swells in my throat.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For seeing me. For not caring what they think.”
“Always,” he says simply.
We dance for another two songs, and little by little, I stop noticing the stares. Stop reacting to all the whispers.
Because Rowan is right—this moment, right now, is more important than their opinions.
—----
And then it all breaks.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Lydia comes up to us, flawless in a white gown that probably costs more than a car. Her smile is sweet, but her eyes are ice.
Rowan's expression tightens. “Actually—”
“Oh, come on, Rowan . You can’t monopolize every dance.” She looks at me with false sympathy. “You don’t mind sharing, do you, Malia?”
It’s posed as a question.But it’s a challenge.
Otherwise I’m looking possessive, jealous, overstepping bla bla bla. Agree, and I lose Rowan to her games.
“Of course not,” I hear myself say.
Rowan looks at me, concerned. “Malia―”
“It’s all right,” I say untruthfully. “I should get some air, in any case.”
Before he has a chance to argue, I step back and Lydia slips into my position..She holds his hand possessively, and I see them begin to dance—her body too close, her smile too bright.
I turn away and make my way toward the exit, pushing past the waiting crowd.
But — not before Lydia leans close to Rowan, whispering something I can't hear.
Which make his expression darker.
—-----
The balcony is fortunately empty and cool.
I make my way outside, taking in the fresh air, my hands shaking as I try to steady them.
That was humiliating.
Watching Lydia take what I had. Hearing her whisper threats I couldn’t hear, but could imagine:
Stay away from him.
You don’t belong here.
I always win.
I hug myself, all of a sudden feeling cold despite the warm night.
"Rough night?"
As I spin around.
Cian is standing in the shadows beside the rail, as still as stone, those unreadable gray eyes trained on me.
He’s dressed in a dark suit, which makes him even more mysterious than usual — elegant but dangerous, a blade wrapped in silk.
“I didn’t see you there,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Most people don’t—and that’s because they don’t lurk around, and don’t see what they can’t unsee.” He doesn’t make a move, just watches me with that quiet intensity.
I turn back to the railing holding on tight. “How long have you been out here?”
“Since the party started. Not a fan of crowds.”
“Then why come?” I ask.
“Track- required attendance. Same as you.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
Then Cian moves—fluid and silent—until he's standing beside me. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over my shoulders before I can object.
It’s warm with his body heat, and it smells like him — woodsmoke and something earthy.
“You were shivering,” he says simply.
"Thank you."
He nods once, and then turns his attention back to the view — the campus sprawled out beneath us, glowing with moonlight.
“Lydia's planning something,” he says quietly.
I look at him sharply. “How do you know?”
"I pay attention." His expression doesn't change. "She’s been working with Dina and Beretta all night. Whispering with some prof I don’t know. Something’s coming.”
My stomach drops. "When?”
“Tonight. Probably soon.”
“Should I leave?”
“You could.” He finally looks at me. “But that’s what she wants. For you to run. To show you don’t belong.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“You do.” His voice is firm, certain. “But you’ll have to prove it. To them. To yourself.”
I pull his jacket tighter around me. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Yes, you can.” He turns to face me fully. “You’re stronger than you think, Malia. Stop letting them convince you otherwise. ”
It's almost exactly what he said in the library.
And hearing it again, from someone who doesn’t beat around the bush, makes me believe it a little bit more.
“Thank you, Cian.”
He nods, then looks back toward the doors. “Rowan’s looking for you.”
“How do you—”
"I always know where my brothers are." It's flickering for a moment in his eyes. "It's a triplet thing."
Before I could ask what he meant, the balcony doors opened. Rowan steps out, relief flooding his face when he sees me.
"There you are. I was worried—" He stops, noticing Cian. "Oh. Hi, Cian."
"Rowan." Cian nods once and looks at me. "Take the jacket. You're going to need it."
Then he's gone, slipping past Rowan and disappearing back into the party. Rowan watches him go, and then he turns to me.
"Are you okay? Lydia said something cruel, didn't she?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
His concern is genuine, which warms something in my chest. But before I say anything, there’s a ruckus inside.
Loud voices, gasps. Someone calling my name.
Rowan and I exchange a look then we rush back inside.
And that's when I see it.
The nightmare Lydia planned