Chapter 1
The Luna He Abandoned
Flourish’s POV
The moon altar had been prepared for two wolves, but only one of us showed up.
Harold Virel should have been standing there..
Beside me, before the Moon Altar, before the elders of Stonehedge.
Before every wolf who had spent the last six years waiting to see whether I would finally become his Luna or remain the woman he kept close enough to shame but never close enough to honor.
Tonight was supposed to settle it.
The Luna Rite only happened once under the blood moon. Once the Alpha placed his mark over my pulse and accepted me before the elders, no one in Stonehedge would be allowed to question my place again.
“Lady Flourish,” Elder Marwin said quietly, “shall we send another summons?”
Another summons.
As if the first five had not been ignored.
I kept my chin lifted even though my fingers were cold beneath the folds of my ceremonial sleeves. The white claiming robe felt heavier with every passing breath, its silver embroidery pressing against my skin like chains.
“No,” I said. “If Alpha Harold wanted to be here, he would be.”
A murmur passed through the hall.
My wolf stirred beneath my ribs, not in anger yet. Just wounded. Quiet in that dangerous way wounded creatures became when they realized the pain was not an accident.
Across the hall, a young warrior rushed in through the side arch. His boots scraped against the stone before he stopped near the elders. He looked at them first, then at me.
That hesitation told me enough.
Elder Marwin’s face tightened. “Speak.”
The warrior swallowed. “Alpha Harold has dismissed the Moon Guard assigned to escort him here.”
My breath caught before I could stop it.
Dismissed them?
A cold ripple passed through the gathered wolves. Even the servants near the walls froze.
A Luna Rite was not a casual promise. It was law, blood, rank, and territory. If an Alpha delayed it because of war, illness, or death, the elders could forgive him.
But dismissing the guards meant Harold had not simply missed the rite.
He had refused to come knowingly, publicly, and without the slightest intention of hiding it.
Elder Marwen’s gaze shifted to me, and for the first time that night, I saw pity in his eyes.
I hated him for it.
Before anyone could speak, elder Hailey whispered loudly enough for half the hall to hear, “Maybe Widow Phina needed him again.”
My body went still.
The name moved through the hall like smoke.
Phina.
Harold’s late beta’s widow.
The fragile beauty Stonehedge protected like sacred glass.
Three years ago, Harold’s beta, Rowan, died during a border ambush. Phina survived, but barely. They said the moon sickness entered her blood that night and hollowed her slowly, leaving her too weak for court gatherings, too delicate for pack life, too broken to be blamed for anything.
For years, Harold had guarded her recovery with a devotion that made people lower their voices whenever I passed.
At first, I pitied her.
Then I noticed Harold only smiled gently when her name was spoken.
Then I noticed her scent lingering in places where mine should have been.
Then I started hating myself for noticing at all.
Elder Marwin barked, “Silence.”
But it was too late.
The thought had already entered the room.
Maybe Harold had abandoned his Luna Rite for his dead beta’s widow.
My wolf’s claws pressed beneath my skin.
I turned away from the altar.
“Lady Flourish,” elder Marwin called. “The rite has not been dismissed.”
I looked back at him. “No. I was.”
No one stopped me after that.
They only watched as I walked out of Moonveil Hall in my claiming robe, my unmarked throat bare beneath the moon.
Outside, the night air bit into my skin.
I followed Harold’s scent myself.
Cedar. Storm rain. Alpha blood.
The trail should have led toward the eastern wing where his private chambers waited for the rite.
It did not.
It curved through the inner garden, past the old training yard, and down toward the lower hunting lodge near the black pines.
Stonehedge Lodge.
The place where warriors drank after successful hunts.
The place where widows did not go unless someone powerful invited them.
Music reached me first.
Then laughter.
Then Harold’s voice.
I stopped outside the open courtyard, hidden by the shadow of a stone pillar.
The lodge doors were wide, and firelight spilled across the ground. Inside, Stonehedge warriors lounged around a long table crowded with meat, wine, and hunting blades.
Harold sat at the head.
Not dressed for a Luna Rite, no ceremonial cloak, no moon cuffs.
No silver binding cord around his wrist.
He had removed every sign that tonight meant anything.
Phina sat beside him.
She wore black, widow’s black, but Harold’s grey fur mantle rested around her shoulders. It was too large for her narrow frame and too intimate to be mistaken for kindness.
My throat tightened.
That mantle was not just clothing.
It carried the Alpha’s scent.
Only a mate, a blood heir, or a protected female of the Alpha’s household had the right to wear it.
Phina lifted Harold’s cup and drank from it.
No one even looked surprised.
A warrior near the fire laughed. “Alpha, the elders must be chewing stone by now.”
Another said, “Careful. Lady Flourish may curse us all if she finds out you chose the widow’s first full night out over her rite.”
Phina lowered her eyes, but the curve of her mouth was there.
“Don’t tease him,” she said softly. “Harold has only been kind to me because Rowan is gone.”
Harold’s hand closed around the armrest of her chair.
His voice was too calm.
“Do not use my beta’s name like a wall between us.”
The room quieted.
Phina looked at him, her lashes trembling. “Harold…”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice, but not enough.
“I’ve already sacrificed too much to this pack. I won’t lose you too.”
A few warriors exchanged glances.
My heart did not shatter all at once. It simply went cold, little by little, until there was nothing warm left for him..
His warriors tried to laugh off the tension. “And Lady Flourish?”
Harold leaned back.
“She will wait.”
Those three words stripped the last softness out of me.
She will wait.
Because that was what I had always done.
I had waited while he carried Phina through fevers.
Waited while he missed dinners because Phina had nightmares.
Waited while he defended her from whispers he never defended me from.
Waited while my own place in his life became a room I was never allowed to enter fully.
My wolf rose beneath my skin, no longer begging for him to choose us. This time, she stepped out beside me ready to bite back.
The first warrior who saw me choked on his wine.
Silence swept through the lodge so quickly even the fire seemed to quiet.
Harold turned.
For one breath, surprise crossed his face.
Then irritation followed, as if I was the one who had embarrassed him.
“Flourish,” he said. “Why are you here?”
I walked inside slowly, my white claiming robe brushing against the blood-dark floor. Every eye followed me.. Let them look. Let them remember exactly what Harold Virel had done.
I stopped before his table.
“Moonveil Hall asked the same question about you.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “This is not the place.”
“No,” I agreed. “The place was the altar. You chose this one instead.”
Phina stood suddenly, Harold’s mantle slipping slightly from her shoulders. “Flourish, please don’t misunderstand. Harold only stayed because I was weak.”
I looked at her properly for the first time that night.
She looked fragile in the most dangerous way possible—pale skin, soft eyes, trembling fingers. The kind of woman men instinctively protected before asking questions they should have asked first.
“You recovered enough to drink from his cup,” I said. “I’m glad the Moon Goddess worked quickly.”
A few wolves drew in sharp breaths.
Harold’s eyes hardened. “Watch your tongue.”
I turned back to him. “I watched my tongue for six years.”
His expression darkened.
I reached up and unclasped the silver veil from my hair. The fabric slid down into my hands, cold and weightless now.
“This was prepared for your Luna.”
Harold stood slowly. Alpha power rolled from him, pressing against the room. Several wolves lowered their heads instinctively.
I did not.
“Do not make a scene,” he said.
A laugh escaped me, soft and empty. “You abandoned me before the elders of Stonehedge, and now you’re worried about a scene?”
Phina’s voice trembled. “I never wanted to come between you.”
I looked at the mantle on her shoulders.
“Then give back what belongs to his Luna.”
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
So did my wolf.
Harold stepped between us. “Enough.”
There it was again.
That instinct.
He did not even think before protecting her from me.
The last piece of me that still wanted him finally burned away.
I placed the veil carefully on the table before him like a corpse prepared for burial.
“I release myself from your claim, Harold Virel.”
The words struck the room harder than any scream could have.
A woman left unmarked beneath the blood moon had the right to withdraw before the final bite.
It was ancient law.
The kind of law Alphas hated because even power had limits under the Moon Goddess.
Harold’s face went dangerously still. “Say that again.”
I held his gaze.
“I will not stand as your chosen female. I will not carry your name into the Luna circle. I will not kneel for your mark.”
His eyes flashed gold. “You are angry.”
“Yes,” I said. “And awake.”
Phina touched his sleeve. “Harold, let her calm down.”
I smiled then.
Not because anything was funny.
Because of course she thought I would calm down.
Everyone did.
I looked around the room, making sure every wolf heard me.
“Let Stonehedge hear this clearly. If I ever return to Harold Virel, may the Moon Goddess strip my wolf from my blood and leave my womb empty beneath every moon.”