Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 13

13 A Crown Made of Ash: The First Humiliation

James’s POV

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I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench.

I needed to fix this.

I needed to fix this quickly.

Because whatever I was doing, whatever I thought I was saving, was not worth burying Arya

alive.

Not worth watching my mate turn into a ghost beside me.

Jasper’s voice softened for a moment, not kind but heavy.

Go to her, he urged. Right now. Before it’s too late.

I opened my eyes, staring at the moon again.

I should.

I should have turned back into the hall and gone straight to Arya.

But then Lev’s face flashed in my mind.

Lev’s calm.

Lev’s power.

Lev’s interest.

And fear tightened around my throat again.

If Arya found refuge in Lev’s attention… if Lev decided he wanted her…

I didn’t have the power to fight that.

Not without destroying everything I’d built.

So I turned back toward the hall.

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I went inside, forcing my face into stillness, forcing the Alpha mask back on.

The hall was louder now, the celebration swelling with drink and relief.

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But Arya wasn’t there.

I scanned the room quickly.

No halter dress.

No steady grey eyes.

No quiet fire in the corner.

She was gone.

My chest eased, and I hated myself for the relief that came with it.

At least she wasn’t with Lev.

At least she wasn’t letting him hold her again, look at her like she was his to admire.

I told myself she’d gone to her room.

That she was resting.

That she was safe.

Then Maxwell appeared beside me.

He didn’t approach like a guest.

He approached like a man who had watched me fall and was deciding whether I was worth

saving.

His expression was hard.

His voice was low. “Is Arya fine?”

I stiffened. “Yes.”

Maxwell’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “She told me she was going to the restroom. She hasn’t

returned.”

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A cold thread wound through my chest.

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I forced my voice steady. “She had a headache,” I lied quickly, because the truth, that Arya

had been with Lev, burned too raw to speak. “She retired to her room.”

Maxwell’s jaw tightened.

I could see he didn’t believe me. But he didn’t argue yet.

I swallowed, then added, because some part of me wanted Maxwell to understand, wanted someone to know I wasn’t doing this out of cruelty alone.

“She’s pregnant,” I said. “She needs rest.”

Maxwell’s eyes sharpened.

And then, disgust crossed his face.

Not at Arya.

At me.

He stared at me for a long beat, like he was forcing himself not to hit me.

Then he spoke, voice low and cutting. “Arya deserves better.”

My shoulders flared with instinctive anger. “Watch your mouth.”

Maxwell didn’t blink. “You should be ashamed of yourself, James.” His words were blunt, brutal, unsoftened. “Sacrificing your mate and your unborn child for a stupid seat at the Union table.”

Rage surged up my spine like fire.

I stepped closer, voice dropping into something dangerous. “If it guarantees I won’t have to bury Arya and my unborn child, I will do it.”

Maxwell’s eyes went colder.

And then he said, very quietly, “So you’re willing to bury her heart and soul instead.”

The words hit like a blade driven straight through my ribs.

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My mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Because he was right.

Because that was exactly what I’d been doing, day after day, choice after choice.

Killing her slowly so her body stayed breathing.

My hands curled at my sides, but I didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Maxwell held my gaze for a moment longer, like he wanted to see if there was anything left

of the man I used to be.

Then he stepped back.

“Goodnight, James,” he said, tone flat.

And he walked away.

I watched him go.

Watched Lev follow him a moment later, the two of them leaving the hall together.

Lev didn’t look at me.

Not even once.

And somehow that felt worse than an open challenge.

Because it meant Lev didn’t see me as worth acknowledging.

The guests began to drift out soon after, laughter fading into goodbyes, boots echoing on polished wood, cloaks pulled tight against the cold night.

The celebration thinned.

The hall emptied.

And still Arya didn’t return.

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I went through the motions, nods, brief words, forced composure, until the last of them

were gone.

Then I left the hall and walked to my room alone.

The corridor felt too quiet.

The packhouse felt too big.

Every door I passed reminded me that Arya could be behind it, hurt and alone, carrying our child in silence while I played politics.

I reached my door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by a low-burning lamp.

I closed the door behind me and exhaled, shoulders finally loosening for the first time all

night.

And then,

A violent knock shattered the quiet.

I froze.

Another knock, louder, angrier.

Before I could move, the door swung open hard enough to slam against the wall.

Rebecca Rainhorn stood there like a storm given human form.

Her eyes were sharp, furious, triumphant all at once.

And before I could say a word, she shoved Leah into the room as if she was throwing a sack of grain.

Leah stumbled, catching herself on the edge of my table, cheeks flushed.

Rebecca’s gaze pinned me.

“You will not disgrace my daughter on her wedding night,” she snapped. “Not after all this.”

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13 A Crown Made of Ash: The First Humiliation

My jaw tightened.

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Her words came like poison. “After all you’ve already done,” she added, voice dripping with

accusation. “After you’ve already gotten her pregnant.”

My blood surged.

The urge to say it, to spit the truth like venom, rose up instantly.

I’m not the father.

It wasn’t mine.

Leah’s mistake wasn’t mine to claim.

But I held my tongue.

Because truth didn’t matter tonight.

ppearances.

Rebecca’s mouth curved, satisfied with my silence, as if she’d won.

She lifted her chin. “Make it believable,” she said coldly.

Then she turned and swept out, leaving the door open behind her for a heartbeat before it

clicked shut.

Leah straightened slowly.

Her expression shifted into something softer, something practiced.

She turned toward me with a slow sway of her hips, voice dropping into a seduction she clearly thought would work.

“James,” she murmured.

I didn’t move.

Leah came closer, lifting her hands as if she intended to touch my chest.

My voice cut through her like a whip. “Don’t.”

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She paused, blinking. “What?”

“Know your place,” I said, the hostility in my tone surprising even me.

Leah’s face tightened. “I am your,”

“You’re a deal,” I snapped. “A contract. Nothing more.”

Her eyes flared with anger and humiliation.

I didn’t care.

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I crossed to the bed, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and turned away from her.

Then I walked to the couch and threw the blanket down.

Leah stared at me like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“How long,” she demanded, voice sharp now, “do you plan to shame me?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

I sat down heavily, rubbing a hand over my face.

Then I looked at her, my voice low and vicious. “Be grateful.”

Leah’s brows shot up. “Grateful for what?”

“For the fact that I’m willing to cover for you at all,” I said coldly.

Her face went pale.

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I leaned back slightly, letting the threat sink in. “Imagine the disgrace your family will endure when everyone finds out you were involved with unknown, packless wolves… and

got pregnant by one of them.”

Leah’s mouth opened.

No sound came out.

Her confidence shattered in real time.

She stood there, frozen, like a girl who had spent her whole life protected by her family’s

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name and had just realised that name could become a noose.

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I watched her for a moment, then turned away, pulling the blanket over myself on the

couch.

Leah didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

The silence was thick and ugly.

My heart felt like stone in my chest.

And Jasper…

Jasper wouldn’t stop.

His voice pressed against me, relentless, furious, tormented.

Go to her, he growled. Go to Arya. Check on her. Now. You’re losing her, James. You’re

losing everything.

I stared at the ceiling, eyes burning, body heavy, wolf clawing at my mind.

And I didn’t move.

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