The Nameless Luna – Book Three: For Her, He Falls

‘Long live the Princess of Nightwalkers. Long live the Queen of Wolves.’
The words echoed across the battlefield even after the fighting was well and truly over, but they still don’t seem real.
Tristan had suggested I go back to my room in the nightwalker’s castle to get cleaned up or at least to put some clothes on. I’d obeyed him numbly, not really knowing what else to do in the wake of what had just happened.
It felt wrong to walk amongst the carnage like this was a victory. Even if it was a sort of success, it certainly wasn’t mine.
Yes, the war was won, but I was not the one who won it. It was a group effort that put an end to the massacre. Our plan had worked, and while we’d made every effort possible to minimize the number of lives lost, blood still ran through the streets of my father’s kingdom.
Five Alphas were killed.
But the living outnumber the dead.
There were losses on both sides, but the nightwalkers, Rovers, and the five packs that had followed Viktor into battle will live on. Now it’s up to us to make sure those deaths were not in vain and nothing like this ever happened again.
There would be a new age dawning in Silvertooth Peaks, one where nightwalkers did not live in secrecy, and rival packs were united as one.
In spite of the people bowing to me in the corridors of the keep as I made my way to my room, I’m honestly still not sure what my place will be in this new world.
I grab a blanket off the bed and wrap myself in it, leaving the door to my room slightly ajar and moving to sit on the nook by my window in a sort of dazed trance. I think I might be in shock. That sort of thing is probably normal after everything we just went through, right?
Who am I kidding? I don’t think anything will ever be normal again.
Gods, what am I doing?
I should go downstairs and look for the others. I should get dressed and search for Tristan to make sure his injuries are treated. I have to find Nico, Lucy, Mark, and Amara, assuming they’re all still alive. I need to find my parents.
But now that the fighting is through, my body seems unwilling to move anymore. Without fear and adrenaline, exhaustion crashes on me like a physical weight, making my thoughts slow and my limbs leaden. I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone focus enough to reach down the mindlink. I rest my head against the cold glass, too drained to think straight.
I don’t know how much time passed. I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t think I really meant to; I just succumbed to my fatigue without even realizing it. But the sound of the door creaking open is enough to jolt me awake, and I turn to face Tristan as he enters the room.
Without thinking, I slip off the ledge and close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his fur. He’s still filthy and limping, so I can’t have dozed off for long.
‘What happened? Where are the others? What happened to my parents? Did anyone… Are they…’ I trail off, unable to finish the question.
‘Your parents are alive and safe. Your mother is still unconscious, but she’ll live. Your father is already recovering from his injuries. There’s a superstition that the blood of your fallen enemies can give a warrior strength and vitality. It seems that’s quite literally the case with the Night King. A little bit of blood and he’ll be just fine,’ Tristan replies as I pull away.
‘And the others?’
‘They’re all okay. Relatively. Lucy is tending to Amara. Mark and Nico and with them. Helena and Sophie are helping the others that are wounded. The nightwalkers have agreed to let all the wolves stay in their kingdom while they tend to the injured and gather the dead, but it’s going to be a long night. You should get some rest, little flower.’
I shake my head. ‘I should go down and help. I want to see Amara. I want to be there when my mother wakes up.’
‘And you will, my love, but there will be time for that later. Today you unlocked powers you did not even know you possessed. You fought in a war and defeated an Alpha. If you don’t want to rest, then let’s just take a moment to wash up and get dressed. Neither one of us will be of any use to anyone in our current state.’
He’s right. We’re both covered in mud and blood. Tristan is still hurt, and I’m still… wearing nothing but a blanket. I pull it tighter around myself and turn away from him, glancing back at the window as if I could look outside to see the kingdom picking itself up from the rubble.
I go completely still at the sound of Tristan shifting behind me, all too aware of what happens to our clothes when we transform back into our human form.
With a start, I realize that while Tristan saw me naked that night in the bath after he found me by the lake, I cannot say the same about him.
It seems silly. We’ve been through so much together and shared plenty of intimate moments. We just fought in a war side by side. But this is different.
‘The fight is over, little flower. I’m not going to bite,’ he says with a chuckle behind me when I refuse to face him.
This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be embarrassed right now, considering the day we’ve had. We faced certain death together, killed together. It’s not like anything is going to happen right now. We have to get dressed and go downstairs to face the aftermath of a war. This is hardly the time to be prudish. Besides, even if we had the time and energy to act on any feelings, the crescent-shaped mark on my chest is still very much there.
I suck in a breath as I feel him step forward beside me, his body not touching mine but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, his breath tickling my skin.
‘You know, there’s nothing wrong with looking at your own mate. You can look and take whatever you want from me, my little flower,’ he says softly, his fingers reaching forward to brush against the back of my hand with the ghost of a caress that makes me shiver. But there’s that faint tingling in my chest like the mark over my heart recognizes his touch as something far from innocent.
Nope.
I’m not doing this. Not today. Or is it tonight already? It doesn’t matter.
I can’t risk the curse hurting him while he’s injured, and frankly, I’m not sure I can survive the torment of his embrace only to be ripped away from it by the vengeful magic inside me. It’s been a long day, and I’m too tired for such taunts. I can handle the rush of battle, the weight of my exhaustion, the numbness and shock, and my gnawing concern for the others. But my heart can’t take almost having him.
I step away from Tristan, hating the cold that comes with the distance I create between us, as I walk over to the wardrobe.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks. In response, I merely throw the blanket back at him without looking before slipping on a shirt. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
‘No! Of course not. I just can’t… I’m not…’ I reply quickly, stumbling over my words. I turn to face him, grateful that he’s draped the blanket around to cover himself as I struggle to find a way to explain the emotions that threaten to undo me. ‘I don’t think I’m strong enough to see you like that right now. Not if… if I can’t have you.’
A melancholic sort of resignation fills his amber eyes, and I wonder if it mirrors my own. He gives me a small nod, and I know he understands.
We can wash up later. Right now, I just want to get dressed and get back out there. I don’t want to be alone with him, and I don’t want to stop moving. It feels like if I slow down for too long, I’ll never be able to get back up again. Too much has happened, and there is still too much to be done.
And if I stand still for too long, then something worse than exhaustion will wash over me: the realization that even though Viktor is gone and the war is won, I’m still cursed. I still can’t be the one thing I wanted more than anything else.
I may be the flower of the Rovers, Princess of Nightwalkers, Luna of the Banes, and Queen of Wolves. But I can’t be Tristan’s Luna. I can’t be his true mate.
Even with the battle won, the bond between us, my wolf and powers manifested, and all this love in my heart… I still can’t be his.