Chapter 46 The Winter Moon Festival Begins
Elara’s POV
I stood before the ancient stone, hands trembling around the ceremonial water pitcher. Hundreds of eyes watched; dragon shifters, faeries, nobles, common folks, all waiting for me to perform the Blessing of the Moonwater.
The first ceremony. The one that required a flawless prayer.
My mind went completely blank.
“Ancient waters…” I began, then faltered.
Drakon stood beside me, playing the role of devoted husband. To the crowd, he looked attentive and proud. But his eyes were cold. Distant. He knew the truth now. Knew everything.
And somewhere in the crowd, Sir Marcus watched. Waiting. Expecting me to poison Drakon tonight.
“Ancient waters, moon above,” Faye whispered urgently from behind me.
“Ancient waters, moon above,” I echoed, forcing my voice steady. “Grant us wisdom, strength, and love.”
I poured the water over the stone. It glowed faintly. A good sign, according to tradition.
The crowd murmured approval.
One ceremony down. Two to go.
The feast began at sunset. Long tables overflowed with food. Music filled the great hall as laughter and celebration rose around us.
I sat beside Drakon at the high table, my stomach knotted. The vial of sleeping potion burned in my pocket. Sir Marcus had slipped it to me during the procession.
Three drops, he’d whispered. Don’t forget.
But I wouldn’t use it. Lily was safe now. Queen Morgana had lost her leverage.
Exceptt it was too easy, Faye’s earlier words echoed. She let us take Lily.
What was the real trap?
“You’re not eating,” Drakon said quietly. To everyone else, his voice sounded concerned. To me, it was distant. Controlled.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need your strength. The Dance of Starlight is next.” He cut a piece of meat and placed it on my plate. “Eat.”
The gesture looked loving. It felt mechanical. Like he was following a script.
“Drakon, I..."
“Not here,” he interrupted softly, smiling for the crowd. “Later. After the festival.”
A servant poured wine into our goblets, deep red in crystal glasses.
This was my moment.
Sir Marcus caught my eye across the hall and nodded toward Drakon’s drink.
I reached into my pocket. Felt the vial.
Pulled my hand back empty.
Sir Marcus stiffened. He began to rise.
Thorne appeared beside him, clamping a hand onto his shoulder and whispering something sharp and low.
Sir Marcus went pale and sat back down.
My heart raced. What just happened?
“It’s time for the dance,” Drakon announced, standing and offering his hand.
I took it. His touch was warm but impersonal, like holding a stranger’s hand.
We moved to the center of the hall as the musicians began the ceremonial melody.
“Remember the steps?” he asked quietly.
“I think so.”
Step, turn, reach toward the moon, spin, bow.
We danced. I followed his lead, careful not to stumble, careful not to think about how this was supposed to feel magical,joyful.
Instead, it felt like a farewell.
“You’re doing well,” Drakon murmured. “You learned quickly.”
“Faye helped me.”
“I know.” His eyes met mine. “She told me everything. About Morgana. About your sister.”
Hope flared in my chest. “Does that change anything?”
“I don’t know.” He spun me, then pulled me back. “Understanding isn’t the same as forgiveness.”
The dance ended. Applause filled the hall.
One ceremony left. The Lighting of the Eternal Flame at midnight.
Then it would be over.
Thorne intercepted us as we returned to the high table, his face grim.
“I need to speak with both of you. Privately. Now.”
“It can wait...”
“No,” Thorne said firmly. “It can’t.”
We followed him into a shadowed alcove.
“My contacts in the Southern Kingdom replied,” Thorne said. “About Princess Celestia. About Queen Morgana.”
“And?” Drakon pressed.
“The confession letter was forged.” Thorne produced two parchments. “Different handwriting. Someone wanted me to believe she confessed.”
My blood ran cold. “Why?”
“Because that wasn’t the real plan.” Thorne’s voice dropped. “Morgana doesn’t want to conquer Drakenmoor. She wants to erase it. Every magical creature. Every last one.”
“That’s genocide,” Drakon breathed.
“Yes. And the invasion force isn’t five hundred. It’s over two thousand.” Thorne’s eyes hardened. “They’re already here.”
“What?” I whispered.
“The south gate was opened ten minutes ago. Soldiers are inside the walls. Hiding.”
Drakon’s gaze snapped to me. “Who opened the gate?”
“I didn’t!” Panic surged. “I swear!”
“She’s telling the truth,” Drakon said quietly. “I can feel it.”
Before Thorne could respond, an explosion shook the castle.
Screams echoed through the hall.
Smoke billowed as soldiers in Southern Kingdom colors stormed in, weapons drawn.
The invasion had begun.
Sir Marcus climbed onto the high table, sword raised. “Surrender, Dragon King! Your kingdom is lost!”
Drakon’s body shifted, scales rippling over his arms, teeth sharpening. “Never.”
Then I saw her.
Queen Morgana emerged through the smoke, calm and smiling.
“Hello, my dear imposter,” she said. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be.”
She snapped her fingers.
Guards dragged someone forward.
Lily.
My heart stopped.
“You rescued the wrong girl,” Morgana purred. “The one you saved was a changeling. A gift, to make you feel safe.”
The girl shimmered, shifted then became someone else entirely.
Not my sister.
“The real Lily is still mine,” Morgana continued. “And since you failed me…”
She raised a mirror. Lily’s terrified face filled it. A blade hovered at her throat.
“Thirty seconds,” Morgana said. “Convince the Dragon King to surrender or watch your sister die.”
The castle burned around us.
Drakon met my gaze. “Don’t do it,” he said softly. “She’ll kill everyone anyway. Including Lily.”
“Ten seconds,” Morgana sang.
I looked at the mirror.
At Drakon.
At the kingdom falling apart.
“Time’s up,” Morgana said. “What’s your answer?”
And once again
I had to choose.