Page 37 of His Lycan Luna Queen

With one swift motion, she pulls out a hairpin from her hair, letting it cascade down past her shoulders in a waterfall of silk. The hairpin doesn’t stop there though; it transforms into something marvelous - vines that wrap tightly around her wrist before elongating into the thinnest sword I’ve ever seen.

The air fills with the metallic scent of bloodlust as my mother opens the door to the corridor, as Marissa’s face pales beneath my mother’s commanding gaze. In one swift movement, my mother grabs Marrissa, draws me close and kisses my forehead gently.

“Now run,” she whispers fiercely to Marrissa. Then she pulls away swiftly, leaving us alone with only her words echoing in our ears. The door crashes against the wall behind her as she disappears into the chaos without a trace. The room shakes withevery step she takes, like an earthquake is about to hit us any second.

“Mummy! Mummy!” I scream, watching her leave me when Marrissa hushes me, trying to quiet my cries for my mother. She sets me back down in my crib. Marrissa grabs a small bag of items and quickly stuffed them into the bag before tying it around her shoulder before tossing the window open.

As she does, the door bursts open and a hunter rushes in. Marrissa and him square off when she dives for her sword, and slashes through the air. The sword bites into the man’s shoulder and he falls to the ground before she brings the sword down again, spraying the room in blood. When she is done, she drops the sword before rushing over to me where I stood clutching the railing of my crib screaming.

“Hush, Ivy. Hush,” she murmurs, and I quiet down watching as she goes to the window before cursing and slamming it shut, she looks around nervously before looking at the man on the floor. She quickly rushes over, shutting the door before ripping at his clothes and pulling them on, before she tugs my nightie off before putting new clothes on me and wrapping my tiny body in a blanket.

“Ma Ma, where is mummy?” I whine. My little hands shake as I grip her shoulders.

“She went to get daddy, my love. She’ll be okay. Daddy is strong. Daddy will protect her,” she whispers, her lips pressing a tender kiss against my cheek. With caution, she opens the door, peering out into the blood-stained hallway strewn with lifeless bodies, a haunting testament to the brutality that has unfolded.

“Close your eyes, my princess, and cover your ears,” she instructs in a hushed tone, her voice tinged with an undercurrent of urgency. I obediently nod, burying my face in the crook of her neck and pressing my hands firmly over my ears.

Darkness engulfs me, muffling the sounds of my own sobs as I cling desperately to the hope that this nightmare will soon fade away. But the anguished screams that reverberate through the castle halls only intensify when Marissa starts running.

She dashes forward, her shoes screeching against the polished tiles, causing me to bounce in her arms. With trepidation, I open my eyes and peer over her shoulder as she deftly turns a corner, only to come to an abrupt halt once more. Men emerge from behind her, their sinister intentions evident in their menacing gazes. Simultaneously, more men appear at the other end of the corridor, closing in on us from both directions.

In a desperate attempt to outmaneuver our pursuers, Marissa twists and turns, her body contorting looking for an escape. With unwavering determination etched across her features, she makes a split-second decision and leaps off the balcony, clutching me tightly against her chest. The impact jars the breath from her lungs and a cry escapes her lips before she quickly regains her composure.

For a few heart-stopping moments, she struggles to rise, clutching onto anything within reach to steady herself. Her eyes scan the chaos unfolding below us as men clash in a brutal display of violence and death. And then, with a fierce resolve, she turns her attention elsewhere.

“I need you to be absolutely silent, my darling,” she implores, her voice threaded with urgency. I nod in understanding, my wide-eyed gaze locked onto hers with unwavering trust. With a swift movement, she locates a hidden laundry chute within the wall. Without hesitation, she stuffs me inside, cocooning me in darkness and safety as she prepares to face the horrors that lie ahead.

“Close your eyes Ivy, hands over your ears. Ma ma will be back,” she says before shutting the door. I stare into the darkness of the laundry shoot before hearing Marrissa’s voice.

“Cedric, it’s not what you think. Listen to me,” Marrissa pleaded.

“You killed the Queen! My Queen!” he roars.

“No! Listen to me,” Marrissa says, and I clench my eyes shut when I hear the fighting begin. The snarls and growls are horrendous.

Time slips by, I don’t know how long passes, but the noises grow louder, the screams more tortured when finally the door opens and Marrissa is reaching in for me. My heart lurched in my chest and my breathing sounded loud to my ears. Marrissa was covered in blood, even her face, and I backed away into the corner scared of her.

“Come on, it’s me,” she coaxes.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

KYSON

I question everything, absolutely everything, except one thing. She is not broken. No, my Queen is resilient, maybe more so than me. She wears her trauma like jeweled armor and camouflage, yet I see her. See her determination and strength and at first I thought that would be our downfall. Yet watching her as she sleeps, I realize how wrong I am. I am so used to being the Alpha King, yet with her I can be Kyson and nothing more, and she would have me. Even after what I put her through.

No matter how many times I tore her down wanting her to submit to the bond, and to me, she came back more determined to prove I couldn’t break her. She has more scars than men of war and she wears them as if they are jewels of her mercy, which is something I saw as weak. Even now, it angers me that she can forgive Ester and her son, that she can set them free despite what they took from us. Despite how they nearly killed her and us. Azalea is able to forgive the unforgivable and remain pure of heart despite hers being broken repeatedly, so harshly I’m surprised it still beats. My Queen saw past her anger and choseforgiveness and understanding while I only craved blood and revenge.

Yet looking at her now, I realize it doesn’t make her weak; it makes her strong because it shows her capacity to forgive and keep going while I have been stuck in a past I no longer want part of. Seeking vengeance, yet seeking that, I became as lost as the dead, stumbling blindly in an abyss and living in limbo. It’s me who’s weak here, not Azalea.

It was never about setting them free; she set a piece of herself that was broken free too - allowing herself to move on from the torture - showing them she isn’t a monster like them. She isn’t a jealous, vengeful cold-hearted killer; no - she is far more than that - she is a Queen. And a Queen is someone who puts her own desires and wants behind her to protect her people, despite them almost ruining her, she saved them because they are her people. Ester is a mother, and having had her own child ripped from her, she wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, not even her enemy.

Azalea breaks, then picks herself back up and keeps going. I guess that is one thing I can thank Mrs. Daley for; she made my Queen indestructible and I am beginning to realize I don’t need to covet her away to keep her safe. What I need is to unleash her, stand beside her, and watch as she brings our enemies to their knees. And she will, for she is a Landeena; she is the Empress of Lycarnia. She’s my biggest contender; she’s also my redemption, and she’s mine to cherish. I brush back Azalea’s hair as she sleeps - a whimper escapes from her lips and a tear slips down her cheek.

“Hush, my love,” I whisper tenderly, brushing a gentle finger against her cheek as I marvel at her grace as she sleeps. Curiosity tugs at my mind, wondering what dreams plague her subconscious. What fears haunt her even in sleep? Does she not realize that I would willingly lay down my life for her without a second thought? That I would protect her at any cost? As Azaleastirs restlessly, her heart rate quickening, her fingers digging into my ribs where she seeks the bond, I can’t help but feel a pang of concern.

Leaning closer, I press my lips against hers in a feather-light kiss, smoothing her tousled hair with gentle fingertips. Just as I am about to rouse her from the clutches of her nightmare, she gasps, clutching her chest and frantically scanning the room. My gaze follows hers, searching for the invisible enemy that seems to torment her. Her claws extend and a low growl reverberates through her as I pull her closer, cradling her against my chest. She is still trapped within the confines of her dream; not fully awake.

---