The Alpha's Stolen Luna - Chapter 227: Chapter 227
You are reading The Alpha's Stolen Luna, Chapter 227: Chapter 227. Read more chapters of The Alpha's Stolen Luna.
: Sutton
I was up before my alarm the next morning, feeling well-rested and ready to start the day. My time with my grandfather… my grandfather. That was still a strange term to use. Still, after our time together the day before, it was easy to start to accept that is who he was to me. I hadn’t gotten to a point where Prince Raphe felt like family yet, let alone an uncle. But it wasn’t the same with the king.
After breakfast, we spent the morning exploring the palace. My grandfather walked us through the halls, telling me about all the portraits. I was amazed at how he knew the story behind every single person who adorned those walls. I was learning so much about the history of our family. I soaked it all up, memorizing the stories, the wry asides, the losses and victories that, together, made our family tree less like a dry genealogy and more like a novel in which each generation tried to correct the last one’s mistakes. Lucas was patient with my questions, and the way he sometimes caught my eye and smirked let me know he was quietly delighted by my enthusiasm. Even Nova was hanging on every word, particularly the stories about our ancestors’ wolves, many of whose images accompanied their corresponding human forms.
King Osric led us through a long corridor lined with marble busts. He stopped at one that looked sharper, more defiant than the others. The plaque read: Queen Ariella, Forth of Her Name.
“She was the first to declare humans as our equals. She demanded that the restrictions forced on them be lifted to allow them to fully integrate into our people,” he told us, his fingers tracing the inscription with a kind of reverence. “Her pack nearly tore itself apart over it, but the alliance she forged built the foundation for our country. Sometimes, the only thing more dangerous than a tyrant is an idealist with poor timing.”
He winked at me, then continued on. I wondered what it was he hoped I’d glean from these stories—whether it was loyalty, or caution, or simply the knowledge that my bloodline was a crowded chorus behind me, and every voice wanted something different.
I was surprised how little my grandfather flinched—or rather, how much he delighted—at the fact that most of my lycan knowledge came from books, not lived tradition. He only ever paused to correct me if the “official” story and the real one diverged. That, maybe, was the greatest gift of these few days: the sense that I didn’t have to pretend, that I could be both a product of my mother’s escape and the legacy she tried to outrun.
When we finally reached the end of the portrait gallery, my grandfather set a hand to my shoulder and turned me, as if there was something else he wanted to show. I expected another artifact or painting. What I got was a stretch of broad windows opening onto an interior courtyard—a formal garden, wilder than the ones outside, persistently green even in the grip of autumn.
He pushed open the door and we stepped outside, Lucas trailing behind. The air was cool and crisp, smelling of fresh earth and stone. I moved to the edge of a shallow reflecting pool, where the pale sun stretched our shadows long onto the gravel walk, and waited for my grandfather to catch up.
He settled onto a stone bench and patted the seat beside him. I sat, the limestone shocking and cold through my dress. Lucas remained standing, arms folded, gaze moving warily from the hedges to the upper stories.
“Your mother loved this place, you know,” Osric said, not looking at me. “I’d find her out here even in winter, scraping frost from the benches so she could sit in peace. She believed gardens were a promise—that no matter what else happened, something beautiful would always push through the dirt.”
I smiled. “She taught me that, too,” I said. “I think that’s why I like gardening so much. She could always find something to admire about nature. Even the persistent weeds that we were constantly pulling. It was an important lesson she tried to instill in all of her children.”
My grandfather patted my hand before giving it a squeeze.
“You know that I am eager to meet your sisters as well,” he told me with an encouraging smile. “I would have had them both here with you now if I had a say in it.”
I squeezed his hand in return. “I know,” I replied. “And I’m so glad to hear that. But Helene is still getting settled in with the pack. It’s important that she find some routine before any big trips. And Hannah…” I trailed off. “Well, I can’t speak for how Hannah would feel about the invitation. I can speak even less to Alpha Anders’ willingness on the subject.”
There was a mix of a grandfather and a king in the look he gave me. He glanced over at Lucas briefly before his eyes landed back on me.
“Alpha Anders knows who you and your sisters are, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then even he would find it difficult to deny his king’s request,” King Osric said. “You will see Hannah again, my dear.”
I managed a small smile. I wasn’t sure how to tell him that I didn’t think that was a good idea. That it wasn’t about seeing her again. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to see her again. It was about getting her away from Anders. Getting her to safety. But if anyone could help me with that, it was the king.
I was up before my alarm the next morning, feeling well-rested and ready to start the day. My time with my grandfather… my grandfather. That was still a strange term to use. Still, after our time together the day before, it was easy to start to accept that is who he was to me. I hadn’t gotten to a point where Prince Raphe felt like family yet, let alone an uncle. But it wasn’t the same with the king.
After breakfast, we spent the morning exploring the palace. My grandfather walked us through the halls, telling me about all the portraits. I was amazed at how he knew the story behind every single person who adorned those walls. I was learning so much about the history of our family. I soaked it all up, memorizing the stories, the wry asides, the losses and victories that, together, made our family tree less like a dry genealogy and more like a novel in which each generation tried to correct the last one’s mistakes. Lucas was patient with my questions, and the way he sometimes caught my eye and smirked let me know he was quietly delighted by my enthusiasm. Even Nova was hanging on every word, particularly the stories about our ancestors’ wolves, many of whose images accompanied their corresponding human forms.
King Osric led us through a long corridor lined with marble busts. He stopped at one that looked sharper, more defiant than the others. The plaque read: Queen Ariella, Forth of Her Name.
“She was the first to declare humans as our equals. She demanded that the restrictions forced on them be lifted to allow them to fully integrate into our people,” he told us, his fingers tracing the inscription with a kind of reverence. “Her pack nearly tore itself apart over it, but the alliance she forged built the foundation for our country. Sometimes, the only thing more dangerous than a tyrant is an idealist with poor timing.”
He winked at me, then continued on. I wondered what it was he hoped I’d glean from these stories—whether it was loyalty, or caution, or simply the knowledge that my bloodline was a crowded chorus behind me, and every voice wanted something different.
I was surprised how little my grandfather flinched—or rather, how much he delighted—at the fact that most of my lycan knowledge came from books, not lived tradition. He only ever paused to correct me if the “official” story and the real one diverged. That, maybe, was the greatest gift of these few days: the sense that I didn’t have to pretend, that I could be both a product of my mother’s escape and the legacy she tried to outrun.
When we finally reached the end of the portrait gallery, my grandfather set a hand to my shoulder and turned me, as if there was something else he wanted to show. I expected another artifact or painting. What I got was a stretch of broad windows opening onto an interior courtyard—a formal garden, wilder than the ones outside, persistently green even in the grip of autumn.
He pushed open the door and we stepped outside, Lucas trailing behind. The air was cool and crisp, smelling of fresh earth and stone. I moved to the edge of a shallow reflecting pool, where the pale sun stretched our shadows long onto the gravel walk, and waited for my grandfather to catch up.
He settled onto a stone bench and patted the seat beside him. I sat, the limestone shocking and cold through my dress. Lucas remained standing, arms folded, gaze moving warily from the hedges to the upper stories.
“Your mother loved this place, you know,” Osric said, not looking at me. “I’d find her out here even in winter, scraping frost from the benches so she could sit in peace. She believed gardens were a promise—that no matter what else happened, something beautiful would always push through the dirt.”
I smiled. “She taught me that, too,” I said. “I think that’s why I like gardening so much. She could always find something to admire about nature. Even the persistent weeds that we were constantly pulling. It was an important lesson she tried to instill in all of her children.”
My grandfather patted my hand before giving it a squeeze.
“You know that I am eager to meet your sisters as well,” he told me with an encouraging smile. “I would have had them both here with you now if I had a say in it.”
I squeezed his hand in return. “I know,” I replied. “And I’m so glad to hear that. But Helene is still getting settled in with the pack. It’s important that she find some routine before any big trips. And Hannah…” I trailed off. “Well, I can’t speak for how Hannah would feel about the invitation. I can speak even less to Alpha Anders’ willingness on the subject.”
There was a mix of a grandfather and a king in the look he gave me. He glanced over at Lucas briefly before his eyes landed back on me.
“Alpha Anders knows who you and your sisters are, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then even he would find it difficult to deny his king’s request,” King Osric said. “You will see Hannah again, my dear.”
I managed a small smile. I wasn’t sure how to tell him that I didn’t think that was a good idea. That it wasn’t about seeing her again. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to see her again. It was about getting her away from Anders. Getting her to safety. But if anyone could help me with that, it was the king.
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