Moonborn Heir Novel Chapter 26 – The grand ballroom stretches out before me, gleaming and ostentatious, its polished marble floors reflecting the glittering chandeliers above.
My knees ache as I scrub furiously, my fingers raw and red from the soapy water. Dirt smears my cheeks, my hair hangs in limp, tangled strands around my face, and the ragged hem of my dress clings to my legs.
No matter how hard I scrub, it’s never good enough. It never will be. “Faster, you filthy wretch!” A sharp voice pierces through the cavernous room, slicing into me like a whip. I flinch but don’t look up. I know that voice too well.
Ravena Shadowmere strides toward me, her heels clicking against the marble, each step calculated and cold. Her presence fills the room, suffocating and cruel. She’s tall and regal, her raven-black hair swept into an elaborate updo, her gown as dark and imposing as her aura.
Everything about her drips wealth and power—power she wields like a weapon against those beneath her. Like me.
I keep my head bowed, focusing on the floor, but it’s not enough. Her sharp nails dig into my shoulder, yanking me upright.
“Did you not hear me, girl?” she snaps, her piercing eyes narrowing as they scan my work with disdain.
“The guests will be arriving soon for the Shadow Moon Ball, and you’re here dawdling like a lazy, ungrateful mutt.”
The Shadow Moon Ball. The first mating ball since the War of Fangs. It’s supposed to be a night of magic, of destiny—where every she-wolf who’s turned eighteen gets her chance to find her mate under the glow of the moon.
My heart flutters against my will, imagining what it must feel like to step into that ballroom in a gown that shimmers like starlight, every eye turning to you,
the air heavy with the promise of fate. But it’s just a dream, and dreams like that aren’t meant for me.
I know it deep down, no matter how much I want to pretend otherwise. I’ll never be the girl who glides across the marble floor, meeting the eyes of a wolf who feels the pull of the bond. Mistress Shadowmere’s sharp whistle snaps me out of my reverie, jolting me back to reality.
Her heels click as she steps closer, the sound grating like nails on stone. “Get to it, mutt!”
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