The Nameless Luna – Book Two: What Binds and Breaks

It’s been weeks, and I still haven’t adjusted to the nightwalker’s schedule. My days and nights blur together.
It’s often misty and overcast, and the vampire fortress is so high in the mountains that sometimes I cannot tell the difference between the clouds above and the fog that often fills the citadel.
It’s early in the morning, and the sun barely starting to creep over the horizon. The sky is a curious shade somewhere between grey, black, and blue, and the last of the stars twinkle in the distance, clinging to the remnants of the night.
Most of the clan is either getting ready to sleep or already lost in slumber, but I sit by the ledge of my window, watching color seep into the landscape.
I haven’t manifested a wolf as my father had hoped, but I do feel a shift since I fed. Something woke up inside of me, but I still can’t bring myself to fully let it out. I’ve gotten too good at holding back. It’s a survival mechanism that can’t just get turned off. I suspect it will take time for the changes within me to fully take effect, but it feels closer somehow.
I wish I could be more excited about it. There is still a part of me that cannot let go of what I found with the Rovers. I know that if it wasn’t because of them, I never would have gotten to this point. If it wasn’t because of Tristan…
And now I’m close to shifting into my wolf form, and he won’t be here to see it. Things were so much easier when I thought that was the only reason for us not to be together.
A glint in the horizon catches my attention as the first rays of sunlight bounce on something in the distance. I narrow my eyes, noticing the sharpness of my senses.
My father was right. There is power stirring within me.
I can hear the rustling of leaves on the morning breeze and see the shadows and colors of the mountainside with new clarity. But there, somewhere in the forest that surrounds the fortress, something moved. Hidden between the trees, there are shapes that were not there the night before, and I frown, leaning out the window to try and get a better look.
There! Between the cover of leaves and stone… what is that?
The nightwalker’s territory is at the peak of the mountain, a fortified citadel accessible only through a stone bridge built directly into the jagged landscape. The bridge connects the main gate over a chasm in the mountainside to the rest of the world, and the rest of the citadel is surrounded by impenetrable walls and a deadly cliffside.
With a home like this, it’s no wonder the nightwalkers were able to live in secret for as long as they did, the rest of the world believing vampires to be nothing more than a myth of the past or a bedtime story to frighten misbehaving children.
No one should be able to find them here.
So why is there a tent pitched at the base of the fortress, hidden in the trees? And there! Further behind it, where I saw movement earlier, there’s another one.
A sudden knock at the door startles me so much I nearly fall through my window, and I slide off quickly, heart pounding and head racing with questions.
What’s going on?
A tall woman with ancient eyes and a solemn expression opens the door. I recognize her as my father’s healer and advisor, Helena.
‘Apologies, my princess,’ she says, nodding in greeting. ‘I did not wish to disturb you at this hour.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say quickly, draping a robe over my nightgown as I walk across the room to meet her. ‘I was awake already. Couldn’t sleep. What is it?’
‘Your father sent for you. It seems there is an army lurking at our doorstep.’
‘An army?’ I repeat, staring at her with incredulity.
‘They’ve shown no intention of attacking, but the situation is delicate. It’s best if the King explains it to you, princess. He is waiting for us in the war room. I’ll wait for you just outside while you get dressed, and we can-‘
‘No,’ I say, my voice soft but stern as I push past her. ‘Take me to him now.’
There is an army surrounding the nightwalker’s fortress. I just saw their tents in the forest with my own eyes. This is no time for propriety or prudishness. Nightwalkers may have an ancient, unhurried way of life, but I do not. I don’t have time for vanity and pride right now. I need to know what’s going on. I need to know if… if it’s him…
It can’t be.
‘Very well, princess,’ Helena says, and the corner of her lips twitches in approval. The nightwalkers have a very subtle way of expressing their emotions, but I get the sense that she’s pleasantly surprised by my reaction.
A few months ago, I would have cowered in bed, hiding under the covers and stuttering so badly I could barely get a word out. I still stutter sometimes, and I still feel the fear that slithers up my throat like an icy snake. But it no longer paralyzes me.
The memory of Tristan’s voice echoes in the back of my head as I follow Helena through the halls of the castle.
‘You fought for your freedom. You cannot blame yourself for what you didn’t choose. Don’t punish yourself for what you can’t control. The only ones who should be ashamed are the ones who hurt you.’
‘You have the scars of a survivor, flower.’
I am not the scared little girl that Viktor pushed down, and Oscar stepped on. I have been bullied, beaten, berated, and broken. I am the daughter of darkness, diamond of the night, and flower of the wolves. I’m more than my fear.
Helena pushes open a set of double doors. On the other side, my father stands in the center of the war room in front of a large table covered in maps and other documents. He wears his usual black suit, but he’s frowning; his perfect expression is uncharacteristically drawn.
‘Father? What happened?’ I ask. ‘Helena said there’s an army around the citadel. Who’s out there?’
My father sighs, reaching for a simple wooden box I hadn’t noticed on the table. It’s about the size of a shoebox, with no markings or labels. He offers it to me with concern glinting in his blood-red eyes.
‘Wolves.’
No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t.
‘What pack?’ I demand, breathless. But I already know the answer.
‘Yours,’ my father says sadly, once again extending the box to me.
No. No. No.
I knew the Rovers would be angry. I knew Tristan would feel betrayed. But I never imagined it would come to this. He was supposed to hate me, to be angry and hurt until time soothed the insult and injury of my choices. I thought when Nico and Mark saw what I am, or at least part of what I am, that it would be enough to make them give up on me.
He was supposed to forget me, not fight for me.
‘What is this?’ I take the box from my father, examining it.
‘A message from the Rovers left at our doorstep. I assume it’s for you.’
My heart beats so loud I swear the sound could fill up the room. I slide the lid off, and I feel as though that beating in my stops when I see what’s inside.
Inside the box rests a small bouquet of yellow tansies.
He sent me flowers.
But all roses have their thorns, and all flowers have their meanings. And these flowers, in particular… they mean war.