Chapter 43 Before the Moon Rises
Rhea POV
The world felt too quiet after the road.
We’d been riding for nearly a full day, hooves pounding through frost and pine, and the air sharp with cold and pine sap. But now, finally, the forest opened to a clearing crowned in pale stone and silver light.
The Temple of the Lunar Mother rose ahead, massive, ancient, and carved straight into the mountainside. Moonlight dripped across its steps like liquid silver, and the great circular mirror of polished stone at its summit gleamed faintly under the fading daylight.
The wolves were already making camp along the ridgeline, their tents a sea of black canvas and pale banners fluttering with the mark of the Wildlands: a silver wolf’s head split by a crescent. The scent of woodsmoke and fur and iron filled the air. Fires crackled everywhere, throwing light against the snow.
I had to admit, it was beautiful in a savage kind of way.
Rhett swung off his horse first, moving with that quiet strength that came so naturally to him. He was back in full Alpha mode, barking orders to his guard as they unloaded supplies and secured the perimeter. His men obeyed without hesitation. There wasn’t a single ounce of fear in them, only loyalty. That said more about him than any crown ever could.
I slid off my own horse, my muscles screaming in protest. “I think my spine’s permanently broken.”
Rhett turned toward me with a smirk that could have melted the snow. “You’ll live.”
“Maybe.” I rubbed at my lower back and winced. “Pretty sure I’ve been sitting on a rock disguised as a saddle.”
He chuckled, low and warm, then reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. The simple gesture sent a ripple of heat down my neck, more effective than any fire.
“You did well,” he said. “Most wouldn’t make that ride without complaint.”
“Oh, I complained plenty,” I muttered. “You just tuned me out after the first hour.”
“Selective hearing,” he teased, “a necessary survival skill for dealing with you.”
I shoved him lightly, and he caught my wrist in one calloused hand. The smirk softened into something else, something that made my stomach flutter traitorously. “You should rest,” he murmured. “We have a long night ahead.”
I looked past him to the temple again, its silver doors half shuttered, ancient carvings winding up its archway, wolves, moons, and flames intertwined. It felt like it was watching me.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Rest sounds good.”
Rhett guided me toward our tent, larger than the others, and lined with thick furs and soft pelts. It smelled like pine, smoke, and him. A strange mix that was starting to feel like home whether I wanted it to or not.
Inside, he crouched to stir the brazier, coaxing the flames higher until the entire space glowed gold and warm. Shadows danced across his face, catching in the silver streaks at his temples. He looked older in that light. Tired. Haunted, maybe.
I sat down on the pile of furs and exhaled slowly. “Hard to believe this is happening.”
He turned toward me, his brow furrowed. “What is?”
“This.” I gestured vaguely at the camp. “The ceremony. The moon. You.”
Rhett’s gaze softened. He knelt in front of me, close enough that the heat from his body rolled over me like a second fire. “You regret it?”
I hesitated. The truth was complicated, and tangled between fear and want and something deeper I didn’t dare name yet.
“No,” I said finally. “Just… processing.”
He nodded as if he understood, then reached for a fur blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. The weight of it was comforting, the scent of wolf musk and cedar thick in the fibers.
“You should try to sleep,” he said gently. “Four hours until moonrise.”
I tried to smile. “Four hours until I’m officially your Luna, huh?”
His thumb brushed my jawline, and his voice dropped. “You already are.”
The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. But they hit something deep inside me, a chord of belonging I didn’t realize I’d been craving.
He leaned forward and kissed me softly. Not demanding, not claiming. Just… there. Solid. Warm. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back.
“Sleep, love,” he whispered.
The words sank into me like a spell. I wanted to argue and say I wasn’t tired, that I wanted to talk or tease him a little longer, but my body betrayed me. The exhaustion of the ride, the warmth of the fire, and the heavy blanket all blurred together.
My eyelids fluttered. “You’re bossy,” I murmured.
He chuckled quietly. “You like it.”
I didn’t deny it.
The tent rustled as he rose to his feet, moving toward the flap. “I’ll be outside. You’re safe here.”
I wanted to ask if he was sure, if anyone was really safe when the world was built on magic and betrayal, but the words never made it past my lips. The sound of his footsteps faded, and the fire crackled softly beside me.
For a long moment, I just listened to the camp, the low murmur of voices, the howl of a distant wolf, and the rhythmic clang of weapons being checked. Somewhere, someone laughed. The scent of roasted meat drifted through the canvas. It all felt so… normal. Almost peaceful.
Almost.
Sleep came in fragments, half-dream, half-memory. I saw flashes of the rebellion, Maris laughing through smoke, Solen hunched over his maps, and the symbol of the phoenix carved into a tunnel wall. I wondered if they’d made it to Haven-8. If they knew I was alive.
Then the dreams twisted.
The temple loomed again, its silver mirror darkening to blood red. I saw three shadows in the reflection, one cloaked in fur, one in flame, one in...blood? All three were reaching for me. All three calling my name.
The ground cracked. Fire spilled upward.
I woke with a gasp, my heart hammering.
The fire in the brazier had dimmed to embers. I pushed myself upright, my breath shaking and sweat slicking my neck despite the cold. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. Then I heard it, the distant hum of drums outside, low and steady, the rhythm of wolves preparing for ritual.
Moonrise was close.
I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. Four heartbeats answered, steady, strong, and alien. My own pulse tangled with the others, never quite in sync.
“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself. “No burning temples tonight.”
From outside came Rhett’s voice, calm but commanding. “Keep the perimeter tight. No one comes near the Luna’s tent.”
Luna. Gods, that still felt strange.
I sank back onto the furs, pulling the blanket tight. The fire’s glow danced against the tent wall, throwing his silhouette across the canvas, those broad shoulders, wolf posture, the weight of a king who didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.
Somewhere in the night, thunder rolled.
I thought it was just the storm until the ground trembled, just once, like a heartbeat.
I frowned and whispered to no one, “That’s not thunder.”
The air shifted. A chill crawled up my spine.
The scent of smoke and ozone seeped through the tent, too sharp and too unnatural.
The gods were moving pieces on the board again.
And I had a feeling that when I woke fully, the game would have changed forever.