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CHAPTER TWO

ADOM

T he pale stone walls of the Summer Castle were bathed in the warm glow of the setting suns. Solara’s silvery light softened the sharper edges of the structure, while Lyra’s rays warmed the air, casting long shadows across the sprawling lawns. It looked just as I remembered—serene, untouched, a world apart from the suffocating grandeur of the royal palace. A place of respite, of peace.

And now I was about to ruin it.

My breath fogged the glass of the window as I gazed out at the familiar grounds. My earliest memories were born here. My father’s booming laughter echoing through the halls as he chased me through the corridors. The smell of sun-warmed grass and earth as I prowled the woods. I could almost hear the rustle of leaves beneath my paws, the distant calls of birds startled into flight as I practiced stalking through the underbrush, my father’s shadow always close behind me.

I rubbed a clawed hand against my jaw. The coarse fur along my cheek rasped against my palm. Up in the sky, Avarix gleamed faintly in the sky, a crescent of cold light trailing the daughter sun. Ever in pursuit of Lyra, his eternal obsession, the First Moon chased her across the heavens. Soon he would be full. His face would glow bright and vengeful as the smaller sun once again slipped through his glaring beam. In his anger, he wouldn't turn inward. No, he would turn those icy moon beams down on the people of Solmane and demand a price for his failure.

It was a price I had saved years to pay. The debt was coming due now. It rolled toward the castle, gilded wheels on cobblestones, bearing the one thing Avarix had decreed would appease him.

My bride had arrived.

The receiving room was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint hum of Jorge’s prosthetics as he shifted his weight. To anyone else, the sound was imperceptible, masked by the low crackle of the hearth and the distant chatter of a skeletal crew of servants preparing for the princess's arrival. But my ears, attuned to the smallest details, picked up the subtle whir of gears and the faint, rhythmic hiss of hydraulics. Jorge’s enhancements were as much a part of him as his dark eyes and razor-sharp wit.

He stood beside me, one arm crossed over his chest, the other resting lazily at his side. The metal of his fingers gleamed faintly in the firelight. Jorge’s human features were classically handsome: dark hair that was effortlessly tousled, a strong jawline, and a perpetual smirk that could charm or infuriate, depending on his mood. Beneath that smooth exterior lay a body built for war. Hidden blades, strength amplification, and tricks designed for seduction and killing alike. Or so the rumors went.

"Was this the best idea, Your Highness? There were reports of trolls in the woods a week ago."

"Much rather fight a troll than…"

"Than face your bride? No wonder this first date feels more like an ambush than anything."

“Don't be fooled. Royalty are the stealthiest and most cunning fighters in the world.”

Jorge snorted at that, as though it were a joke.

It wasn't.

“I hear she’s beautiful.”

Jorge didn't need to say her name. I knew who I was marrying. Knew it since the day she was born almost twenty-one solars ago on a Hunter's Eclipse when Lunaterra passed between Avarix and Lyra. With the planet blocking the daughter sun's light, Avarix fell into shadow. Though the eclipse only affected Solmane, the First Moon's rage could be felt across the entire planet.

“It’s a marriage of convenience. Her looks don’t matter.”

Jorge didn’t respond. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air between us. My looks mattered. What bride would willingly accept a husband who resembled a monster?

“There will be no courtship. No love.” I spat that last word, but the bitterness lingered on my tongue. “I’m doing my duty—to the moon, to my people, and to end this war.”

“Good for you, Highness. Love always ends in loss. If you're lucky, it's just the loss of an organ, like the heart. At worse, one lover must die first, leaving the other alone.”

He wasn’t wrong. Love had taken my father, hollowed my mother, and made me a beast with blood on my hands. This marriage wasn’t about love; it was about fulfilling the demands of the curse so the moon might grant me what I craved most—the ability to fully shift. To shed this monstrous half-state and reclaim the humanity stolen from me at birth.

The curse wasn’t the only weight pressing down on me. The trolls still prowled the borders. They were relentless and ravenous since the First Moon had withdrawn its protection from Solmane. Their raids had claimed my father and left scars on my people that ran deeper than flesh. If this marriage would return us to the right sight of Avarix's light, then I would see it through.

And yet, as much as I wanted the war to end, there was a part of me—the beastly part—that didn’t want to lay down arms. The part that thrived in the chaos of battle. The part that longed for the feel of troll flesh beneath my claws and the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

“You’re going to terrify the poor girl.” Jorge's expression was thoughtful as he looked me directly in my eyes. Few men had the balls to do that.

“Precisely. I want her to see me, get her screams out of the way, and then move on to the wedded bliss portion of our lives together where we rarely see or speak to each other. ”

Jorge didn't argue. He didn't tell me to try and be pleasant to win her over. He didn't tell me everything would be all right. He simply blinked and twisted his lips in a thoughtful expression. He had a way of reading me that I found both irritating and useful.

The palace chamberlain entered the sitting room. Colson bowed his head. Then glanced up, meeting my gaze. "She's just freshening up, Your Highness."

A low growl of annoyance left my mouth. Neither Jorge nor Colson shuddered at the sound. They'd been with me too long. My bark was as bad as my bite, but they both knew I needed them to stay in my employ. Each man dealt with the parts of my duties that I preferred to ignore. If only one of them could take on my matrimonial duties.

I flexed my hands and then squeezed them back into fists, feeling the sharp tips of my claws bite into my palms. My reflection in the window was distorted. Surprisingly, it was an improvement. The gleam of my mane and the sharp line of my jaw were unmistakable. I looked like a predator preparing for the hunt.

Up in the heavens, the two suns were sinking below the horizon. All thirteen moons were visible even now in the twilight sky. They orbited Lunaterra, on the hunt for the sunlight they craved. Every night, the moons raced across the skies in pursuit of Lyra. Every night they failed to catch the daughter sun.

Because love was a losing game—even for the heavens.