His Cursed Luna

12. The Gathering Storm

The lofty ceilings of the grand hall of Goldenrealm was adorned with intricate frescoes and crystal chandeliers that sparkled like stars. The walls were draped with exquisite silk tapestries, depicting scenes of mythical creatures and epic battles. The floor was made of polished marble, and the sound of the music echoed throughout the entire space. The ballroom was illuminated by hundreds of candles placed on ornate candelabras, casting a warm, golden glow on the entire room.

The room was decorated with stunning floral arrangements, featuring vibrant roses, lilies, and daisies, all in a kaleidoscope of colors. The scent of the flowers was intoxicating, mixing with the perfume of the elegant ladies in their sweeping gowns and men in their finest attire. The dancers twirled gracefully on the dance floor, their movements mirrored by their reflections on the mirrors that lined the walls of the room.

The tables were covered with embroidered linens and laden with the most sumptuous delicacies, including roasted meats, fresh fruits, and an array of desserts. The drinks flowed freely, with bottles of wine and champagne being opened with a satisfying pop. The servants were busy attending to the guests' needs, offering plates of food and refreshing drinks.

The air was filled with a sense of enchantment and opulence, as the guests reveled in the grandeur of the royal ballroom. The musicians played melodies that were both enchanting and uplifting, and the dancers moved with elegance and grace. The atmosphere was alive with joy and festivity, as the guests enjoyed a night of indulgence and merriment in the lavish surroundings of the royal ballroom.

The scent of roses and aged wine mixed with the lingering tension in the air. This was no ordinary gathering. The Lycan King of Goldenrealm had orchestrated this ball with a singular purpose, to negotiate power, form alliances, and, in his own cruel way, settle a score.

An invitation had been sent to Silverknight, yet their response was a resounding denial. That alone spoke volumes.

Penelope stepped into the grand ballroom, her presence commanding and unwavering. Her posture was tall, her movements deliberate, and her expression sharp with determination. The air around her seemed to shift as she entered, as though the very room recognized her arrival. Her piercing gaze swept across the opulent surroundings, the glittering chandeliers, the gilded arches, the intricate tapestries that adorned the walls. It was a scene of breathtaking beauty, yet it stirred something deep within her, a sense of déjà vu that she couldn’t quite shake.

As she took in the lavish details, a flood of memories surged to the surface, unbidden but vivid, as though they had been waiting for this moment to resurface. Her mind drifted back to a time she had tried to bury, a time when her life had been upended by betrayal and cruelty. She remembered her uncle, the man who was supposed to protect her, to guide her, to be her family. Instead, he had plotted against her, his greed and ambition outweighing any sense of loyalty or love. He had tried to sell her off, like a mere commodity, to the nefarious Lycan king of the Northmoon. The memory of that lecherous old king sent a shudder through her body. His cold, calculating eyes, his predatory smile, the way he had looked at her as though she were nothing more than an object to be claimed, it was a nightmare she had barely escaped.

But it wasn’t just the king’s vile intentions that haunted her. It was her uncle’s betrayal that cut the deepest. He had been family, someone she had trusted implicitly, and yet he had orchestrated her downfall without a second thought. He had spread lies, tarnished her reputation, and left her isolated and vulnerable. Penelope clenched her fists at the memory, her nails digging into her palms as she recalled the helplessness she had felt. She had been blind to his machinations, too naive to see the web of deceit he had woven around her. And when she had needed someone, anyone… to stand by her side, to protect her from a fate worse than death, there had been no one. She had been utterly alone.

As Penelope’s gaze swept across the room, her sharp eyes caught sight of a figure that sent a jolt of recognition through her. There, standing across the hall, was the Old Lycan King of the Northmoon. Time had not softened his appearance; if anything, it had only deepened the lines of cruelty etched into his weathered face. His eyes, cold and calculating, still held that same ageless malevolence that had once filled her with dread. He stood with an air of arrogance, as though the world still bent to his will, but Penelope saw through the facade. She knew the darkness that lurked beneath his regal demeanor, the depravity he was capable of. A slow, sinister smirk curled her lips as she watched him, her mind already racing with thoughts of vengeance. He was a relic of her past, a symbol of the horrors she had endured, and now, he was within her reach.

But her attention was quickly diverted as she noticed another familiar figure nearby. Isabella, her cousin, was standing not far from the Lycan king, her arm linked with that of her father, Penelope’s treacherous uncle. The sight of them together, laughing and mingling with the other guests as though they hadn’t a care in the world, ignited a fire within her. Isabella, with her flawless beauty and air of innocence, had always been her father’s favorite, his perfect little accomplice. Together, they had made Penelope’s life a living hell, spreading lies, undermining her at every turn, and leaving her to fend for herself in a world that had turned its back on her. The memories of their cruelty flooded her mind, each one stoking the flames of her anger. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists. They had taken so much from her, her dignity, her trust, her sense of safety, and now, they would pay.

But before she could fully immerse herself in her plans, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it was enough to pull her from her thoughts. She turned, her expression shifting from one of cold calculation to one of mild curiosity. Standing before her was a tall, strikingly handsome man. His presence was commanding, his broad shoulders and confident posture drawing the eye, but it was his face that held her attention. His piercing brown eyes seemed to see straight through her, as though he could read every thought, every secret she had ever kept. His jawline was chiseled, his features perfectly proportioned, and there was a faint hint of stubble that added a rugged edge to his otherwise polished appearance. He exuded an air of mystery, his gaze both intense and inscrutable, and Penelope found herself momentarily caught off guard.

“What an evening, Princess Penelope,” the same mysterious lord showed up and bowed before her as his welcoming voice rang over her ears. The assertive and formal tone in which he addressed her was evidence of his position of power, as well as his respect for her as a princess.

“Thank you,” Penelope curtseyed.

“Will you honour me with a dance, princess?” He asked.

“Honour is all mine,” Penelope accepted his offer with a curtsey and a smile, acknowledging the honor bestowed upon her.

The mysterious Lycan pulled her to the dance floor, under the chandelier.

As they danced, his gaze locked onto Penelope's, but he quickly noticed her distraction. Penelope's mind wandered to the old Lycan King of Northmoon, who was currently speaking with her uncle. Her uncle was talking to Lycan King Diatoran which made him chuckle. She knew her uncle had his own agenda.

“I am also worried that he might not sign a treaty, Princess,” his expression was unreadable. But how did he know?

“How do you…” Penelope was more than surprised. The discussion was done in the closed walls of Goldenrealm. How did he get the news!

“I know more than you do. Such as that Uncle of yours is upto no good,” he whispered.

“I know,” Penelope smiled as another plan occurred in her mind.

The chandelier cast a warm glow over the dance floor, and the music filled the room with its sweet melody. As they twirled and spun, Penelope felt a surge of energy and confidence flow through her. She knew that her uncle was a shrewd negotiator, but she was confident in her own abilities to outsmart him. She had spent countless hours in her past life, studying the intricate politics of the Lycan Kingdoms, and she was well-versed in the art of diplomacy.

As the dance came to an end, she spoke, “And Believe me, the Lycan king of Northmoon will sign the treaty,”

"So you have a plan in place," he smirked and Penelope smiled.

Penelope thanked the mystery lord for the dance and made her way over to her uncle.