ARIA
The Luna's chambers were breathtaking.
Massive windows overlooked the forest,
moonlight spilling across polished wooden floors.
The bed was enormous—draped in dark silk that looked like liquid shadow. Plush rugs softened my footsteps. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, filling the room with warmth and the scent of pine.
Everything was perfect.
And I felt nothing but hollow dread.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, my carefully maintained composure finally cracking. My hands shook as I reached into the hidden pocket of my dress and withdrew the vial.
It caught the firelight, the clear liquid inside seeming to glow with malevolent promise.
Nightshade extract. Silver. Wolfsbane.
Three days
.
In three days, I'd stand before the realm and become Varder's Luna. I'd wear his crown, bear his mark, tie myself to him in ways that couldn't be undone.
And then, when night fell and we were alone, I'd have to decide.
Would I pour this poison into his wine? Watch him drink it? Watch the most powerful man in the realm die because I was too weak to save my sister any other way?
Or would I refuse? Let Lyanna be dragged to Alpha Cole's territory, knowing exactly what waited for her there?
My legs gave out and I slid down the door, clutching the vial so tightly I was surprised it didn't shatter.
Lyanna.
God, Lyanna.
I closed my eyes and she was there immediately—not as she was now, seventeen and probably terrified, but as I remembered her best. Ten years old, gaps in her smile from missing teeth, flower crowns perpetually crooked in her honey-blonde hair.
"Aria! Aria, look what I made you!"
I'd been locked in my room for three days. Punishment for "disrespecting" my father during a pack meeting—I'd dared to question his decision to ally with a notoriously brutal Alpha. Food had been scarce. Water scarcer. My father believed in discipline through deprivation.
But then came the soft knock. The quiet voice.
"Aria? Are you awake?"
I'd opened the door to find Lyanna standing there in her nightgown, her small hands cupped around something precious.
"You shouldn't be here," I'd whispered frantically. "If Father finds out—"
"He won't. Mother's asleep and he's in the study with his advisors." She thrust her hands toward me. "I saved you cookies. From dinner. I hid them in my napkin."
They were crushed. Crumbled almost to powder. And they were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"Lyanna—"
"You can't be hungry forever," she'd said with the absolute certainty of childhood. "That's not fair. So I saved them. For you."
I'd pulled her into a hug, this small bright thing who loved me despite everything our parents said. Who saw me as worth saving even when I felt worthless.
"Thank you," I'd whispered into her hair. "Thank you, little star."
She'd squeezed me back fiercely. "I'll always save you cookies, Aria. Always. Even when you're old and married and far away. I'll find you and bring you cookies and we'll be sisters forever."
Forever.
A sob caught in my throat.
She'd been the only one. The only person in my entire family who'd loved me without condition. Who'd written me letters after I married Davian, sweet rambling things about the flowers she was growing and the books she was reading and how much she missed me.
Who'd cried when I stopped writing back—not because I wanted to, but because my parents had forbidden her from contacting "the disappointment."
And now she was going to be given to a monster.
Unless I became one first.
I opened my eyes, staring at the vial through blurred vision.
Could I do it? Could I actually poison Varder?
I tried to imagine it. Pouring this into his wine during our wedding night. Watching him drink. Watching him realize what I'd done. Watching the betrayal in his eyes as the poison took hold.
Watching him die.
My stomach heaved and I pressed my free hand to my mouth, fighting nausea.
He'd been Arrogant. Commanding. He'd announced I'd marry him without asking, had cornered me into this arrangement.
But he'd also given me sanctuary when I had nothing. Had offered protection when I was powerless. Had looked at me like I was more than just broken—like I was someone worth keeping.
And tonight, at dinner, when he'd pushed and prodded and tried to uncover my secrets... he'd stopped. Had let me keep them even though he clearly didn't believe my lies. Had shown me these chambers and told me everything in Thornwood was mine.
"All you have to do is trust me enough to use them."
Trust.
What a poisonous word.
I stood on shaking legs and walked to the window, looking out over the darkened forest. Somewhere out there, Lyanna was probably lying awake too. Probably terrified. Probably wondering if anyone would save her.
And here I was, her only hope, holding the key to her freedom.
All I had to do was commit murder.
"There has to be another way," I whispered to my reflection in the glass. "There has to be."
But what?
I'd considered everything on the walk back from dinner. Every possible alternative.
I could tell Varder the truth—but then what? He'd be furious. Might withdraw his protection. Might use the information against my parents, which would make them blame me for Lyanna's fate anyway. And even if he did want to help, what could he do? Challenge Cole directly? That would mean war. Deaths. Destruction. All because I couldn't handle my own family's problems.
I could try to negotiate with Cole directly—but I had nothing he wanted except what my parents had already offered. And even if I threw myself on his mercy, begged him to take me instead of Lyanna, why would he agree? He clearly wanted her specifically, for whatever sick reasons drove men like him.
I could try to free Lyanna myself—steal her away, run somewhere far from all of this. But where? I had no power, no resources, no allies except Varder, and using his resources meant telling him everything, which brought me back to the first problem.
I could refuse to use the poison and hope my parents were bluffing—but I'd seen their faces. Seen their desperation. They'd sold Lyanna to save themselves, and they'd go through with it rather than face whatever consequences Cole had threatened.
Every path led nowhere.
Except one.
I looked down at the vial again.
Three days until the ceremony. Three days until the wedding night. Three days until I had to make a choice that would destroy me no matter what I chose.
Sister or king.
Love or honor.
Save one innocent life by taking another.
"When you make your choice, remember—Lyanna always loved you. Even when no one else did."
My mother's words echoed in my head, poisonous and true.
Lyanna had loved me. Still loved me. Would love me even after everything, even if she never knew what I'd done to save her.
But would I be able to love myself?
I walked to the bed and sat on its edge, the vial still clutched in my hand. The silk sheets were cool beneath me, luxurious and soft. This bed—this room—this life—could all be mine. Safety. Protection. Maybe even something like happiness, if I could ever forgive myself for how I'd gotten here.
Or I could trade it all. Trade my revenge plan for Lyanna's freedom. Become exactly what my parents had always said I was—selfish, destructive, willing to sacrifice anything for what I wanted.
Except I didn't want this.
I didn't want any of this.
I wanted to be back in that moment ten years ago, with Lyanna's small hands offering me crushed cookies and unconditional love. I wanted to be someone worth saving instead of someone who had to choose who else to destroy.
A soft knock at the door made me jump.
I quickly shoved the vial back into my dress pocket and stood, smoothing my skirts with trembling hands.
"Come in," I called, my voice steadier than I felt.
The door opened to reveal Theresa, carrying an armful of fabric—deep blue silk embroidered with silver thread that caught the firelight like starlight.
"My lady," she said warmly. "I thought you might want to see the Luna ceremonial gown. We'll need to do fittings tomorrow, and—" She stopped, her eyes sharpening as she looked at me. "Are you alright? You look pale."
"I'm fine." I forced a smile. "Just... overwhelmed. It's all happening so fast."
She set the gown carefully on a chair and moved closer, her expression softening with something that looked like genuine concern. "It's normal to be nervous. Becoming Luna is a tremendous responsibility. And marrying the king..." She hesitated. "He's not an easy man. But he's a good one. Fair. Protective. He'll treat you well, my lady."
Will he? I wanted to ask. Will he treat me well when he's dying from poison I gave him? Will he understand it was for my sister? Will he forgive me in whatever afterlife awaits us both?
"I'm sure he will," I said instead.
Theresa studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling she could see straight through my lies. But whatever she saw, she chose not to press.
"Get some rest, my lady. Tomorrow will be busy with preparations." She moved toward the door, then paused. "And my lady? If you ever need someone to talk to—about anything—I hope you know you can trust me."
The word 'trust' made something crack in my chest.
"Thank you, Theresa," I managed. "That means more than you know."
She left quietly, and I was alone again.
I walked to the chair where she'd left the ceremonial gown, running my fingers over the intricate embroidery. It was beautiful. The kind of dress I'd dreamed about as a girl, imagining my wedding day would be magical and perfect and full of love.
Instead, it would be a lie.
A performance.
A prelude to murder.
Unless I could find another way.
Please, I thought desperately to whatever gods might be listening. Please let there be another way. Don't make me choose this. Don't make me become this.
But the gods, as always, were silent.
I changed into the nightgown that had been laid out—soft white cotton that made me look even paler—and climbed into the enormous bed. The sheets enveloped me like a cocoon, warm and safe and utterly wrong.
Sleep wouldn't come.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, watching shadows dance in the firelight, my mind spinning through scenarios that all ended in blood and screaming and loss.
At some point, exhaustion must have won, because I found myself dreaming.
Lyanna stood in a dark room, wearing a torn white dress. Blood dripped from her split lip, bruises blooming across her pale skin like grotesque flowers.
"You didn't save me," she said softly. Not accusatory. Just... sad. "You could have, but you didn't."
"I tried," I sobbed. "I tried, Lyanna, I swear—"
"You chose him over me." She gestured to something behind me, and I turned to see Varder. Not dead. Not dying. Just standing there, watching me with those cold blue eyes. "You chose a stranger over your sister."
"That's not fair—"
"Life isn't fair, Aria." Lyanna's voice was distant now, fading. "You taught me that. Remember? When Father locked you away and I asked why he was so mean? You said life isn't fair and sometimes good people suffer and there's nothing anyone can do."
"Lyanna, please—"
"But you could do something." She was disappearing now, becoming transparent, becoming nothing. "You just chose not to."
"No! Lyanna, wait—"
"It's okay," came her voice, barely a whisper now. "I forgive you. I'll always forgive you. Even when I'm screaming. Even when I'm broken. Even when I wish I was dead. I'll still love you, Aria. That's what sisters do."
Then she was gone.
And I was alone with Varder, who looked at me with something like pity.
"You can't save everyone," he said quietly. "Sometimes you have to choose."
"I don't want to choose!"
"Then you choose nothing. And nothing saves no one."
I woke with tears on my face and a scream caught in my throat.
The room was still dark, the fire burned low to embers. I sat up, gasping for air, my heart racing.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
Except it wasn't. It was truth dressed in nightmare's clothing. In three days—two now, probably, given how late it must be—I would have to choose.
And no matter what I chose, someone would suffer for it.
I reached for the vial in my dress pocket where I'd left it on the chair beside the bed. Held it up to what little light remained.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to the darkness. To Varder, who didn't know he might die. To Lyanna, who didn't know she might not be saved. To myself, who was about to lose everything no matter what happened. "I'm so sorry."