The Last Luna

ASTRIA.

“Is this really necessary?” I splutter, looking at my own pale face through the mirror as the modiste tightens the corset around my torso. “I feel… congested. This isn’t normal!”

“Astria, please.” Mother sighs, not even looking up from her tabloid sheet. “You are the Luna Heir, and you are now eighteen. You’re entering society this evening as a woman. We’re throwing you your very own ball, for god’s sake.”

“Thank you, I guess,” I mutter sarcastically. “We all know that ball is just a pretty way to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“To the best bachelor, you mean.” Her eyes, hazel like mine, are now sharp with meaning. “You’re just choosing a husband. I did it, your grandma did it… so on. Looking like a woman and acting like a proper Elite will be normal, as long as you learn to shut up about it.” She waves her hand lazily at the modiste. “Tighter.”

Of course. What else did I expect her to say? ‘I’m sorry, Astria’? Of course she will tell me to grit my teeth and tough it out. As she always does. No sympathy, no kindness. Just duty.

The modiste pulls the laces again, and this time, air gets pushed out of my lungs. A small whimper escapes my lips, and she catches my gaze on the reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are wide with fear and apology, and even though I don’t say anything, she eases the corset, letting it cling a little less tightly around my body.

I want to voice out my thanks, but as an Elite Wolf, I can’t do that. I’m not allowed to talk to any of the staff or servants except my handmaiden. They’re all Rogues, the outcasts of society. Since they bear no noble blood, no blessing from the Moon Goddess, they are forced to live their lives in servitude to us Elites.

She gives me a little pat on the shoulder to tell me that she understands, and I can’t help but feel a wave of gratitude.

And jealousy.

She’s free to do what she wants, what makes her happy. I can tell by the quality of her dresses that this is what she’s made to do. She’s free to live where she wants. She’s not bound by some stupid Elite rules.

Most importantly, she’s free to marry whoever she wants. Or not marry at all.

I don’t have that luxury.

“I think emerald green would suit the miss very well, Madame,” she says to Mother, bringing out a roll of beautiful deep green velvet. “Her hair is a beautiful shade of copper, and the deep green would bring out the color of her hazel eyes. Perhaps some bronze jewelry would also compliment her.”

Mother puts down her tabloid sheet slowly, and I almost warn the modiste that things are going down.

“What did you say?” she asks in a hushed tone. “What are you suggesting?”

The edge in her voice is unmistakable. I shrink at the side. The modiste quite visibly withers before my eyes. “Madame, I only meant to suggest colors that I think would be beautiful on your daughter. After all, she’s a debutante, and her suitors would be present—”

“Yes, that is correct.” Mother is now on her feet, facing the poor girl. “But did you ever stop to consider that I didn’t ask your opinion? Do you know what pack we are from? Do you know who my daughter is? Do you really think she would need all sorts of stupid enhancements just to have suitors?”

“Mother,” I hiss under my breath, trying to get her to stop.

But she bulldozes on. “Perhaps you don’t know us. I am the Luna of the Nox Deux Pack, and this is my heiress. Our colors are blue and silver, so do as I told you and make a dress in those colors. You are a Rogue and a servant. Whatever you think has no place in this room, much less in this society—”

“That doesn’t give you the right to disrespect me in my own establishment,” the modiste interjects.

Now they’re looking at each other, squaring up and ready to fight. Neither of them noticed that I just took off the corset. They don’t bat an eye when I put my shoes back on either. In fact, Mother continues to spout some more insults while the modiste fires up with her own.

The awkwardness and humiliation of it all get to me, snowballing into this gigantic thing that I can no longer control. I want to scream at both of them, especially my mother, but instead I just turn around and leave the shop.

“You absolute scum!” I hear Mother say as I run. “You don’t deserve to exist in the same place as us!”

My face heats up even more. There’s pressure building behind my eyes and I know it’s about to manifest into tears. I don’t know why I’m still surprised because all Elites do that to the Rogues, even the ones at home. Even my father does it, and he’s supposed to be a respectable Alpha.

I just want to escape it all.

I keep running down the streets, passing shops with colorful displays, and people who are busy with their daily lives. I realize that most of them are Rogues, and despite being forced to lick the boots of uppity Elites, they seem happy. I hear laughter. I see smiles. I smell good food from the little shops. Streams of music are coming from the windows. It’s all quite beautiful. Prettier than the cold, lifeless gold in the palace.

This is probably my ignorance speaking. Maybe it’s just because the simplicity of things is a novelty to me. But I wish I can trade places with—

THUD.

My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I find myself hitting something solid and soft at the same time. Well, more on solid, because I lose my balance and land on my butt, straight into a shallow puddle on the sidewalk.

Mud splatters all over me, even my face. I clear it all up with a swipe of a hand, and that’s when I see that the thing I bumped into is a young man.

He’s holding a horse by its reins, wearing all black—from his jacket and vest right down to his pants and boots. Even his hair is very black, so much so that it almost has a bluish tint in the sunlight. He frowns at me, and I get struck mum by the intensity of his amber eyes. They look like cuts of citrine. Or the eyes of a hawk.

Even though he looks mildly annoyed, he holds out a hand for me, helping me get to my feet.

I want to burst into a tirade about him not looking where he’s going, but the smallest contact with his gloved hand sends a wave of electricity down my body.

Judging by how fast he withdraws his hand from me, I can say he felt it too.

“Shame about your pretty dress,” he tells me, but he takes a rag from his saddle and offers it to me. “But you really shouldn’t be running around these streets like you’re the main character or something. I’m sorry to say, but you had that coming.”

I’m about to clean myself up, but his remark makes my temper rise. “What? I wasn’t acting like that!”

He shrugs, making a move to get back on the saddle. “Sure. Well, you can keep the rag. And the advice.”

This arrogant little prick.

“Hey!” I yank at his arm, causing him to slide down again. More mud splatters on me, but I don’t care. “I might have been a little distracted, but you were also in the way. The least you can do is apologize. I’m the one who got thrown to the ground.”

“That’s what happens when you run without looking, you go splat.” His tone is as dry as the hay his horse is munching on. “Look, we all have places to go, and I’m sure—”

I step close to him. “I was only running because I was trying to run away from someone!”

I don’t know what prompted me to say that. I also don’t know why I said it in such a distressed tone that one would think I’m being chased down the street by a murderer.

And that seems to be what this young man thought.

“What?” He looks behind me like he’s expecting to see someone with a knife. “You mean you needed help? That’s why you were going too fast?”

It’s too late now. I have to stick to this lie. “Yes. I need help very badly. I need to get away from here.”

He stands aside. “Ride with me, then.”

Okay, it’s already happening. I don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know me. But this might just be the blessing in disguise that I needed. Maybe this is my chance to leave and denounce being an Elite once and for all….

He offers me the reins and I try to get onto the horse, but before I can even pull myself up, I hear a very angry voice behind me.

“Astria! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I stagger away from the horse and the young man, turning around and finding my mother teetering down the street in her high heels. She has her gossip sheet rolled up in her hand, brandishing it like a weapon. “Stay away from that horse!”

The young man stares at Mother in confusion, then turns back to me. This time, his face is relaxed with realization. “That’s your mother. Did you just escape and try to use me?”

“You need to go,” is the only thing I can say. “I’m so sorry.”

His golden eyes fix on the tattoo visible on my chest. “You’re an Elite. A Luna.”

This time, my tongue is completely glued to the roof of my mouth. With one last strange look at me, he gets on his horse and leaves just in time.

Mother arrives, panting hard. She looks around at the people staring at us, and with practiced ease from the countless times she had to do this, she grabs the tip of my long ponytail and yanks it hard enough for my scalp to start stinging.

“I can’t wait for you to be married and out of my hands at last. I will make sure you get the right husband tonight. One who’s not afraid to teach you a lesson.”

ASTRIA.

“Miss, is it true?” my handmaiden Thalia asks as she puts more rouge on my cheek. “Did you really… talk to a commoner while you were out with your mother?”

I can’t speak. The answer is at the tip of my tongue. Yes. I talked to a commoner. I tried to escape with said commoner. My mother caught me with him, and she dragged me all the way back to our carriage and locked me in my bedroom, where I am right now.

That was hours ago. My alleged best moment, my entrance into society, is only an hour away now.

I’m already decked in my royal blue gown, the skirt puffed up with so many layers of tulle. The sleeves are tapered, closed over my arms and peppered with tiny sapphires that match the gems in my silver earrings and necklace. My red hair is arranged into little ringlets, with some loose curls framing my face.

The rouge is adding a nice pop of color, but my eyes are unmistakably dead.

When I don’t answer, Thalia freezes and looks at me directly. “Miss, you do know that I’m here for you, right?”

“I know,” I whisper. “But what you heard was right. I talked to a commoner and tried to get on his horse. Now let’s hurry up and get this over with. The sooner I get married, the sooner my parents would shut up.”

Thalia’s brown eyes well with tears. I look away. I don’t want to cry and ruin her hard work.

She’s only sixteen, but we’ve been inseparable since I was ten. She got introduced early as my handmaiden at the tender age of eight, but I never really saw her as a Rogue servant. She’s my sister. I know that she feels my hurt right now. After all, she knows all about the resentment I feel. She knows that I have always longed for freedom, and so does she.

Seeing me finally breaking down and conforming must be torture to her, but what choice do we have?

“You’re all done up now, Miss,” she finally says, brushing a stray stand of hair away from my face. I get to my feet, waiting for the sounding horn from downstairs to signal my appearance. I’m about to head to the door, but her broken voice stops me. “Astria, I can’t….”

I face her, cupping her face. “Thalia, don’t. Promise me you’re going to be strong. You’re still coming with me when I get married.”

“But there has to be another way.”

I open my mouth to answer, but then my bedroom door bursts open. Standing outside is my Father, Alpha Edmund.

Thalia bows, and I follow suit, but he just waves his hand to me, motioning me to get out.

“Come here, child.” There’s a bite of impatience in his tone. “It’s almost time, and I need you to meet somebody.”

“Of course, Father,” I mumble, giving Thalia one last glance before tottering out of my room like a baby deer. “What is the….”

I trail off when I see that he’s not alone. Smiling eagerly by my bedroom door is the Alpha of the neighboring pack, Gloria Sangri, and his son. I know both of them by face but not by name.

I curtsy, and the Alpha watches me with great interest. “So this is your Astria. She’s grown into quite a stunning woman. She will be perfect for my Franco.”

He points at his son, who’s too busy ogling my breasts, which are pushed up high on my chest because of the corset. I don’t think this is a coincidence either. I initially thought that the purpose of the low neckline was to show off my tattoo, the phases of the moon in bright gold, but I was wrong. It’s to show that I’m a woman now, ready to wed and be bred.

All the Elites have this tattoo. Betas have it in silver, while the lower ranks all have it in this murky brown that’s supposed to be bronze. It gets branded on our chests at twelve years old, and it separates us from the Rogues.

It also separates us from each other.

“She is indeed perfect,” my father just says. If he noticed the ogling going on, he didn’t give a sign. Instead he just looks at me. “You will be presented to all your suitors later, and you will dance with them. But Franco is the one you’re going to marry. He’s from a respectable family, and our alliance would be the biggest one of all.”

I bow at Franco once again, but his beady little eyes don’t move from my cleavage one bit. I swallow back my disgust. Just look at him. He’s spindly and weak-looking with his blond hair and misshapen face, but he certainly tries to make up for it with that sneer.

And I have to marry this man and carry his children.

The thought of it makes me shudder. I don’t even bother hiding it. He raises an eyebrow but Father just nudges me.

“The delegates and their sons shouldn’t know, of course.” He smiles secretively. “I don’t want a war on my hands. We all know that my daughter is the most sought-after.”

“Indeed!” the Alpha says, and I can almost see him imagining all the gold and the soldiers he can hoard. “I am honored you chose my son for your dear Astria.”

Out of nowhere, Franco reaches out and takes my hand. I try to back off, but he forces a kiss on it. His lips are wet and rubbery. A small moan escapes my lips, and this time, Father glares at me. But thankfully, before he can react, the sounding horn rings inside the palace, and the ceremony starts.

Father takes my hand from Franco, and Mother comes sweeping in in a gown that looks much better than mine. They flank me, both gripping my hands so hard you would think I’m a slippery eel. They put on their standard rigid smiles, and together, we go down the stairs to the sound of applause from everyone attending.

The perfect family. The perfect Elites.

The suitors clap hard like a bunch of circus monkeys, some of them bowing back to me as I curtsy. I sweep my gaze around and do a quick count. There are fourteen of them… but there are only thirteen packs, including mine. I can already see Franco’s face in the crowd. I don’t think any pack is allowed to have two suitors, so who’s the odd one out?

They all line up with Franco at the front, which tells me that I’m supposed to choose him first. I’m about to extend my hand to his, but one of the men catches my eye.

He’s wearing all black, even his shirt and his vest. There are no metallic trimmings on his suit. Even his hair is jet-black. Almost with a bluish tint under the light of the chandeliers. His skin is tanned, golden like his eyes. Citrine eyes.

The young man who almost let me ride his horse to freedom.

He’s one of my suitors.

“You may dance with Franco now, dearest,” Mother whispers to me through gritted teeth, simpering at everyone else. “Don’t just stand there.”

Franco steps forward. He’s already aiming for my hand. But I step out of his way, walking straight to the young man who almost gave me my freedom.

His amber eyes are as huge as saucers when I curtsy in front of him, but he bows back and takes my hand anyway, steering me towards the dance floor. The harpist starts to play a soft, romantic song, and we face each other.

“The Luna.” The corners of his lips lift into a smile. “We meet again.”