CHAPTER 6 : OLD FRIENDS , NEW ENEMIES

The parchment felt heavier than it should’ve. Lyria kept turning it over in her hand, listening to the silence after that hooded figure vanished into the shadows. Her heart had given up on any kind of calm. Who was that man? Why did he keep watching her? And how in the world did he drop this message under her window without a single palace guard noticing? None of it made sense. She broke the ancient seal and unfolded the rough paper. Only three words stared back at her. TRUST NO ONE. Her breath snagged. Cold washed through her ribs, sharp and real. Trust no one. The phrase ought to feel melodramatic, something to laugh off. Paranoid. But after the day she’d just crawled through—it felt fair. It felt honest. Kael doubted her. The council flat out accused her. The pack she’d guided all these years...gone. Even Talia tried to stay quiet when it mattered most. So maybe she didn’t have anyone. Maybe she was truly alone. Nyra, her wolf, gave a restless growl. “Someone’s trying to help us.” “Or trying to pull our strings.” Nyra kept silent, and Lyria figured both options were trouble. She folded the note and slid it into her sleeve. There was no point pretending she’d sleep again. So she sat by the window, watching the dark bleed into gold, waiting for morning to bring her answers. Morning brought something else: humiliation. Everything inside the palace felt twisted. The second she stepped out, talk skidded to a halt. Servants ducked their heads and hurried out of the way. Some stared until their curiosity turned sharp. Not a single greeting. Not a smile. Fifteen years she’d been their Luna, and now they barely acknowledged she existed. Because she wasn’t Luna now. Selene was. And that sting never got easier. She started down the grand staircase, but paused when two maids rounded the corner. Their chat died the instant they spotted her, but not fast enough. “…stole from the treasury.” “Do you think it’s true?” “The council seems convinced.” “What if that’s why the Moon Goddess rejected her?” Too late. Lyria heard it all. One bowed quickly, the other nearly lost grip on her tray. “L-Lady Lyria.” She just moved on. No point arguing. Lies raced faster than the truth, and they’d already left her in the dust. She braced herself for the dining hall, but it was worse. When she entered, silence spread table to table. Every pair of wolf eyes found her—some curious, some suspicious, a few downright hostile. And for the first time in fifteen years, there was no seat waiting for her beside Kael. Her nameplate was gone, vanished like she’d never existed at all. She bit back the ache and walked to an empty table. Alone, like she had any other choice. Then Selene swept into the room, and the whole energy changed. Everyone stood and smiled, voices overlapping: “Good morning, Luna.” “Luna Selene.” “You look beautiful today.” Lyria just watched. It had taken her years to earn that warmth—Selene didn’t earn it at all. It was handed to her. Gift-wrapped, as if that’s how destiny worked. Selene caught Lyria’s stare. For a second, she looked surprised, like she couldn’t believe Lyria still existed. The expression vanished as fast as it came. In its place: concern. Polished. False. “Lady Lyria,” Selene said. The title felt pointed—a little knife in three polite syllables. Selene crossed over. Everyone else tried not to eavesdrop and failed. “I wanted to check on you.” Lyria almost laughed at that. “Why bother?” Selene blinked. “Because I’m worried about you.” Lie. Clean and practiced, but still a lie. Lyria leaned back. “How thoughtful.” Selene only smiled. That diplomatic, all-Lunas-are-friends smile. “I know this transition must be difficult.” Transition. Like she’d traded shifts at the market, not lost literally everything. Selene tried again. “I hope, in time, we can be friends.” That nearly made Lyria laugh out loud. Friends? After Selene took her mate, her title, everything? Selene must have realized how ridiculous it sounded, because she excused herself and went to sit with Kael. He looked wrecked—dark rings under his eyes, jaw tight. And yeah, a twisted part of Lyria was glad. He deserved a little suffering, at least. When he sat beside Selene and they leaned together, pain flashed through her anyway. What truly hurt wasn’t seeing them together—it was how normal they already seemed, just like she’d been erased overnight. Kael, adjusted. Lyria, still drowning. A familiar voice pulled her back. “Lyria.” Hope flickered—Talia. Her oldest friend. Or she used to be. Talia slid into the seat across from her, looking guilty as ever. The silence stretched out, uncomfortable and heavy. Lyria ended it. “Why are you here?” Talia flinched. “I wanted to apologize.” Lyria searched her face for something real. Found nothing but regret. “You didn’t defend me,” she said, the words cold and tight. Talia’s voice dropped. “I know.” “You said nothing.” “I know.” “While everyone accused me.” “I know.” The repetition set her teeth on edge. “Then why?” Talia hesitated, and the silence between them felt loaded. That hesitation scared Lyria more than anything. Finally, Talia let out a slow breath. “You don’t understand.” “So explain it.” Talia glanced nervously around the room, making sure no one was listening. When she spoke, her words barely made it across the table. “The council thinks you’re dangerous.” Lyria stiffened. “What?” Talia swallowed. “Since those documents surfaced…” “Documents that are fake.” “That doesn’t matter.” Lyria stared. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Helplessness filled Talia’s face. “People already made up their minds.” That truth hit harder than any insult. The facts didn’t carry much weight. Stories did. And hers was halfway rewritten already: disgraced Luna, true mate revealed, shiny new Luna steps in. Neatly packaged. Easy to swallow. People always loved a good story—especially a simple one. Talia leaned forward. “Maybe you should leave for a while.” Lyria’s jaw tightened. “You want me to run.” “I want you safe.” Talia meant it, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t standing next to Lyria, wasn’t arguing, wasn’t believing. She was just surrendering. That, somehow, hurt most of all. Lyria stood up. “I need some air.” Talia tried to reach for her arm. “Lyria—” But she pulled away. She understood now. Talia’s fear outpaced their friendship. And she wasn’t alone in that. She slipped away to the gardens. At least out there, the air was easier to breathe. For a while, silence felt like a gift. She wandered the winding paths, replaying everything—accusations, the dagger, the hooded figure, the warning. It didn’t line up, but it had to fit together. Someone was shifting the ground beneath her feet, making her life collapse with every new blow. Why? A rough voice cut the quiet. She froze, pressed herself to the hedge. Two men, just out of sight. Urgent. Whispering like they didn’t want to be overheard. “…taking too long,” one muttered. “Things changed. We can’t wait anymore.” Lyria edged closer, heart pounding. “The Alpha’s announcement should’ve been enough,” the first man hissed. Her blood iced over. Were they talking about Kael? About the festival? The other man answered—a little nervous, a little angry. “It wasn’t. She’s still alive.” Lyria didn’t move. They meant her. The first man’s voice dropped, cold as stone. “Then we go to the next phase.” Silence prickled. The second man’s voice was almost a whisper now. “As ordered?” “Yes.” Lyria’s heartbeat thundered. Something terrible was about to happen. Every instinct screamed for her to run, but she couldn’t. She listened. “We kill her,” the first man said. Nothing. No sound, no movement, no breath. Just those three words ringing in her skull. Not exile. Not banish. Kill. “When?” the second man asked. “Tonight.”