His Cursed Luna

3. Forgotten Princess

|| Penelope ||

“Now you die.”

Elijah’s voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. His dark, piercing eyes stared down at me, unwavering, merciless. He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he drew his sword.

The steel gleamed under the dim torchlight, its edge sharp enough to cut through flesh as if it were nothing. My entire body froze, dread slamming into me like a tidal wave.

Then, without hesitation, he pressed the tip against my stomach.

“No… my baby… our baby…” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands flew to my belly, a desperate attempt to shield the life growing within me. My mate, my husband, the man I had once loved, was about to destroy not just me—but our child.

I screamed.

A strangled gasp ripped from my throat as I jolted upright, drenched in sweat. My chest heaved with each ragged breath, my heartbeat hammering so violently against my ribs that I swore it would break free.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My hands trembled as they gripped the soft sheets beneath me. My entire body was shaking, every nerve still trapped in the suffocating terror of the nightmare.

Just another dream.

I exhaled shakily, trying to ground myself in reality. The soft mattress beneath me, the silk sheets tangled around my legs, the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the windows—all of it confirmed that I was in my room. Safe. Alive.

I swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

But why was I in my room?

My mind reeled, grasping at the fragments of memories that refused to piece together.

The Lycan. The woods. The darkness.

Had I really seen him? Or was that another twisted trick of my mind?

And then there was the part where I had died. The pain. The betrayal. The sword plunging into my heart. The cold, paralyzing sensation of my life slipping away.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as helplessness settled deep in my bones. I had spent years without these nightmares, years without reliving this horror. They used to plague me when I was eighteen, but after mating with Elijah, they had vanished.

And now, they were back.

Why?

I squeezed my temples, trying to wash away the headache that was forming, trying to force my mind to remember something... anything from last night. But my thoughts were a tangled mess of blurred images and aching emotions.

A sharp knock on the wooden door made me jump.

I tensed. My breath hitched, my pulse still erratic. The fear from the dream hadn’t left me yet, and now someone was here.

“Penny! Are you up yet?” The sweet female voice came from the other side of the door.

I inhaled a lung full of air, preparing myself to respond, but the door opened up before I could utter any words, “I am coming in.”

And with that, my maid, Bridget, barged into my chamber.

“Oh goddess, Penny, you are still asleep? It is half past two! Have you forgotten what day it is?” She went on while removing the drapes from the huge glass windows of my room. The bright sun beamed through the window, making me squeeze my eyes again. I slept for almost the entire day.

“How did I end up here?” I muttered.

“What do you mean?” Bridget walked closer.

“I was in the woods,” I spoke to myself.

“You slept early yesterday, Penny and never left the room,” she looked at me with concern.

Bridget always stayed near my room, and if I had left the room, she could tell by using her werewolf senses. Again, I clearly remember going out for a stroll and then the Lycan! Above all, she was in my room when I left the room. How could that be possible?

“But you saw me yesterday….” I trailed off, not knowing what was happening around me.

“Yes, I did, Penny, after the dinner, and then you fell asleep quickly,” she frowned.

My heart started to race. I knew something was off about last night, but I couldn't pinpoint the problem. Was I really given a second chance? I sighed inwardly. Was it a part of your plan, moon goddess? I couldn’t tell! I didn't know if I saw the Lycan in the woods yesterday. Was it all a dream, then?

“Are you alright, Penny?” Bridget sounded concerned.

She was less of my maid and more of my friend. She had been by my side in every thick and thin, being the shoulder I could always rely on.

She stood before my bed, arms folded, her gaze heavy with silent judgment. A pale yellow gown draped over her short, petite frame, cinched at the waist in a way that made her appear even more delicate than she was. Soft brown curls framed her face, brushing against the curve of her neck, and her lips—painted a rosier hue than usual—tilted slightly upward, as if she were amused by my disheveled state.

She had dressed differently today.

It took me a moment to remember why.

The ball.

Princess Isabella, my cousin, was turning eighteen today. My uncle, Lycan King William, had spared no expense in arranging a grand celebration to formally introduce her to the noble and royal society. The halls would be flooded with lords and ladies, their laughter ringing through the grand ballroom, their cups overflowing with aged wine. It was a night of indulgence, of alliances forged in whispered conversations, and of future mates eyeing each other over the rims of crystal goblets.

And I was expected to attend.

Not that anyone would care for my presence.

Once upon a time, I had been the beloved princess of Goldenrealm, daughter of the true heir to the throne. My father had ruled with honor, living and breathing for his people. They had adored him, and in turn, they had adored me. I had been a light in their eyes, the princess who would one day follow in his footsteps.

But that was before.

Before his mysterious death.

Before the kingdom was stolen.

William, the son of one of the concubines, had seized the throne with no resistance. Though he was only half-Lycan, half-werewolf, the council had bowed to him without hesitation. None had dared to challenge him. None had dared to question the legitimacy of his rule.

And so, my father was forgotten.

I was forgotten.

The castle that had once been my home became my prison.

Stripped of my titles, stripped of my place in society, I was pushed into the farthest, loneliest corner of the palace, reduced to a life no better than a servant’s. I was tolerated only because I was not a threat.

A princess without a wolf.

The shame of it still burned in my chest.

I had waited desperately for my sixteenth birthday, for the moment I would finally feel my wolf stir within me, for the transformation that would confirm my place among my kind. But it never came. The moon had risen, bathing me in its glow, but there had been nothing. No shift. No voice in my head. No power humming beneath my skin.

Nothing but silence.

Wolfless.

A human among Lycans and werewolves.

No one had known my secret—except Bridget. My dearest friend, my only companion, she had sworn to protect me, to shield me from the whispers and the ridicule. And she had kept that promise.

But none of it had mattered.

Because despite being considered a disgrace, despite the royal court treating me as little more than a phantom lingering in the shadows of my past, my uncle still demanded my presence at every ball.

He never spoke to me.

He never introduced me to anyone.

Yet, I was required to be there, standing in a corner, a silent spectator to a world I no longer belonged to.

Two warriors would always be stationed near me, their sole purpose to ensure I followed the unspoken rules of my existence. I was forbidden from speaking to the guests, forbidden from mingling, forbidden from so much as glancing in the direction of potential suitors.

I was a caged bird forced to watch others fly.

And I hated it.

I loathed these gatherings, where noblemen flaunted their wealth and power, where aristocratic women feigned delicate laughter while weaving cruel gossip. It was a hollow, meaningless display, one I had no desire to be a part of.

“Yes, I am fine,” I forced a smile.

“Then, freshen up and get dressed. The royals and nobles will be arriving soon,” Bridget spoke with a smile, “and I heard that the Lycan King of Silverknight Kingdom, along with several noble families, will be there too, and so is the Ancient Assembly.”

Ancient Assembly was the council of the strongest and oldest creatures, including the first Lycans, Witches, Elves and Dragons. They were the sacred and strongest creatures alive in our world who kept the balance between all the continents. As far as I remembered, the Lycan King of Silverknight wouldn't show up, but some from the Assembly would be there.

“Will you now hurry up?” She pushed me again.

Right. Everything was unfolding just as I remembered. The grand halls would soon be teeming with nobles, their silk-clad figures sweeping across polished marble floors, their voices rising in laughter and hushed conspiracies. This ball was unlike the others—not merely a night of festivities but a calculated spectacle orchestrated by my beloved uncle.

King William had set the stage perfectly.

He wanted a show, one that would strip me of the last shred of dignity I possessed. His goal was clear, to humiliate me before the Royal Council of Goldenrealm and the Ancient Assembly, to parade my flaws and shortcomings before those who held the power to decide the next Crowned Princess. He would make them see just how unworthy I was in comparison to Isabella, how much more graceful, powerful, and fitting she appeared to be.

He had ensured everything was in place.

Every whisper, every scrutinizing gaze, every detail had been arranged to diminish me.

But he had forgotten one thing.

Blood.

I was born of pure Ancient blood, a lineage that ran deeper and older than any throne, a power that could not be so easily dismissed. Isabella, for all her beauty and charm, was not. She was half-Lycan, half-werewolf, a child of a concubine’s son who had usurped what was rightfully mine.

That was the difference.

A difference that no amount of scheming could erase.

Suppressing the burning anger in my chest, I simply nodded and made my way to the bathroom. The scent of lavender and chamomile greeted me, the rising steam curling around the edges of the copper tub. As always, Bridget had prepared my bath, the only luxury left to me in this forsaken castle.

The warm water welcomed me as I sank into it, my muscles relaxing despite the storm raging inside me. The night would be long, and I needed to be ready. I scrubbed away the remnants of sleep, washing away not just the grime but the weight of my past failures.

Stepping out, I reached for the dress I had chosen for the evening. It was nothing extravagant, not even remotely close to what Isabella would be draped in. No shimmering embroidery, no layers of lace or gold-threaded silk. Just a simple gown, muted in color, modest in design.

Bridget helped me dress, her gentle hands smoothing out the fabric, arranging my hair in a simple braid that barely reached my shoulder. No jewels. No adornments. Just me and the pendant around my neck. It was my mother's.

My gaze lifted to the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me made my breath catch.

For the first time in years, I didn’t look like a shadow of my former self. My cheeks held a faint rosiness, my skin healthier, my eyes brighter—not hollow, not lifeless.

I looked like I belonged. And for the first time in years… I would make them see that too.