Chapter 1: Clara, The Luna

Clara’s POV-Present Day

“Is there any chance that you’re with child?”

Mother tapped her spoon on the side of her teacup, her sharp green eyes gazing longingly across my midriff. I shivered, crossing my hands over my stays, running them over the lacey green overlay of my black mourning gown and shook my head. “No, I am not.”

“But are you certain?” she pressed, taking a delicately rehearsed sip from her tea and setting the teacup down on the table. “He’s only been…dead…for three months. Surely you shared a bed with him before--“

“I am not with child,” I said sharply, turning away from the window to give her a knowing look. She stiffened, her fingers toying with the folds of her vibrant yellow skirt.

“Well, you should see a doctor, just in case.”

“There’s no just in case,” I mumbled, running my fingers across the windowsill and turning to face her fully, watching as her eyes raked over my figure with suspicion and fading hope. “Is that why you came here today, to interrogate me on whether or not I’m the vessel for the heir of the Cavendash Estate?”

She blanched, turning a sickly, clotted cream color. “No, darling, of course not.”

It was a lie, of course. Mother had never visited me just for the sake of seeing her eldest daughter. There were always ulterior motives at play if she visited the manor, whether that be to attain gossip to relay to her companions in society, or to try, and always fail, at acquiring my assistance in marrying off my younger sister to another high-ranking pack member.

Mother was manipulative and sharp as a tack, but I had been out from beneath her thumb for nearly a year. I too could play this game.

“What news of the upcoming Season?” I asked casually, turning about the room. She watched my black silk skirts as they rustled along the marble tile, her gaze narrowing on my totally flat stomach once again.

“Anabel will be introduced this year, we decided.” Mother’s tone was unusually warm, and I gave her a quick, side-eyed glance as I walked around the side of the couch.

“How nice,” I said, tartly, sitting down and folding my hands gracefully across my lap.

“It is a shame we weren’t able to secure a marriage before…well. Her chances are now as good as any of the low-ranking village girls, I’m afraid,” she drawled.

I hid a smile behind my teacup as I lifted it to my lips, enjoying her obvious frustration. “I’m still the Luna, Mother. She will marry someone of a high rank, and from a good family. You needn’t be so worried.”

“I am worried, Clara.” She shot me a cold look, tapping her fingers on her thigh before looking away again, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to organize a retort to whatever I said next.

What could I possibly say that would ease her mind? She wanted to hear that I was pregnant, carrying the heir to George’s estate and the future Alpha of our pack. But I wasn’t pregnant. I knew that with certainty. George and I had been civil, maybe even friends, but he had shared my bed only once since our marriage took place. We had never been lovers.

And that was something I would tell no one. Not even my mother.

“You’re worried about the meeting of the Elders this evening, I assume?” I inhaled deeply as I lifted the teacup to my lips again, relishing in the soft jasmine scent of the faintly golden liquid. I watched her bristle over the rim of the cup, blinking furiously as a pale blush reddened her cheeks.

“Your father is in fits over it,” she snapped, grinding the silken yellow fabric of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger. “You will attend, won’t you?”

“Why would I?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I am only the Luna until an heir is established… Ah.” I pursed my lips and gave her a forced smile. “That’s why you’re asking if I’m with child, isn’t it? They’re discussing my removal from the position.”

“It’s only a position by marriage, Clara. Have some sense.” She stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and adjusting the manicured curls that fell around her face in soft gray coils. “You’re a widow now. And you’re right. You’re only the Luna until an heir is established. And then what will you do, move back in with us? Am I to have you out in society during Anabel’s season?” She laughed, a brittle sound that sent a shiver up my spine and gave me uncomfortable flashbacks to my childhood.

The fate of my family’s rank in the pack had been a heavy weight on my shoulders for my entire life, and they were desperate to hang on to the privileges my position awarded them.

Mother’s grip on her carefully tailored reputation was slipping through her fingers, and she blamed me.

“I have not made a decision about my future, as of yet,” I said through gritted teeth. “I still have my dowry, which is mine to do with what I will, “ I said sharply as she stiffened, peering at me from narrowed eyes. “I will buy a house, perhaps a manor with some land to tend.”

“Ha!” She shook her head, fanning herself with her jeweled hand. “You, run a manor? Oh, darling Clara, maybe I will have to have you out in society for the season after all.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from starting an argument.

“I don’t plan on remarrying, Mother. I feel as though I’ve done my time and paid my dues for this family.” I glanced out the window, watching as the clouds rolled across the midmorning sun, and abandoned my plans of taking a walk in the gardens before the rain came now that Mother had interrupted my morning.

“You know why they’re meeting today? Because they have an heir to the Cavendash Seat,” she said nervously, running a finger across an ornate side table to check for dust.

“Oh? And who could that be?”

“He’s in the village already, apparently.”

Mother cast me a curious glance and smiled maliciously, rubbing the dust between her fingers. “It’s rather grimy in here for such a grand estate, don’t you think?”

I scowled, setting my teacup down on the table and standing, my back straight as a rod as I turned to face my mother. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today, Mother? I am not in the mood for games.”

She laughed, tossing her head back to showcase her small, white teeth. “Oh, Clara! This is not a game. Just like your marriage was not a game.”

“What would you call it, Mother? A fairytale? A fated love story? George was ten years my senior when we married. We had only spoken a few times before the ceremony. If my marriage to George wasn’t a game to you, what could it have possibly been? Like I said, I did my time--“

“Your marriage and rank secured our family in the upper tiers of society, Clara. Do you think Anabel would have had much of a future if not for your marrying George? What do you think will happen to us now that your title is being relinquished? You’re ruined, Clara. We are all ruined.”

“That is rather dramatic,” came a deep, raspy voice from the doorway to my sitting room. Mother and I turned to face the visitor at the same time. My total, utter shock was drowned out by the sharp gasp that escaped my mother’s lips.

He looked the same as he always had. Tall, broad shouldered with his hands tucked causally into the pockets of a grubby, patched-up leather jacket, his dark curls falling in long tendrils down his shoulders. His nose was just slightly too long, his cheekbones slightly too high and pronounced.

And his eyes… the deepest, richest blue I had ever seen, the color of the Great Lake at dusk when the moonbeams glittered across the water.

“Randall,” I breathed, placing my hand over my chest to prevent my heart from leaping out over my stays.

“What have I missed?” he said playfully, just as Mother fainted and crumpled to a limp heap on the floor between us.