His Rogue Luna is a Princess (Mia and Derek) novel Chapter 41

ELENA

The engagement party planning had taken on a life of its own.

At first, I had thought it would be something small–something my family would allow to quietly fade as Logan and I continued to do what we had always done: exist in the strange limbo of our friendship, tied together by the momentum of our history together.

But that wasn’t what was happening.

The house had become a flurry of activity. Maids rushed down the hallways with fabric swatches for decorations. My mother had summoned our head chef to discuss the menu. My father had already sent out invitations to the most important families in our network.

And Logan-

Logan was as calm as ever.

He never pushed. Never once suggested that we set a wedding date. Instead, he smiled, offered quiet reassurances, and told me we could take all the time I needed.

And yet… he never made a move to stop the push forward.

Not once had he told my family, Elena isn’t ready. We should hold off on the celebration.

He was letting it happen. And I didn’t know why.

The walls of the estate felt smaller than usual, the air thicker, filled with expectations I wasn’t ready to meet. I needed a break.

I trotted up the steps of the manse, looking for Maggie, Erin, and Carly. I stuck my head through any number of doors, but couldn’t find them.

My brow furrowed as I moved through the house, checking the courtyard, the sitting

rooms, even the gardens.

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Nowhere.

A small knot of unease curled in my stomach.

I stopped a passing maid. “Have you seen Maggie, Erin, or Carly?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t, my lady.”

A slow prickle of something unpleasant crawled up my spine.

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“Could you find someone to check the guest quarters?” I asked. “They may have slept in.”

The maid nodded quickly and hurried off.

I exhaled, pressing my fingers against my temple. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe they had just needed some space,

and I couldn’t blame them.

The world my family lived in was suffocating enough for me, and I had been raised in it.

Still, something didn’t sit right. Before I could dwell on it, I felt a small tug on the skirt of my dress.

I glanced down.

“Aiden,” I breathed, joy at seeing my son momentarily pushing away my concerns.

He beamed up at me, his curls wild and his face flushed from whatever adventure he had just come from.

“You were looking serious,” he announced, crossing his arms in that way that made him look far too much like someone else. “Are you mad?”

I huffed a small laugh. “No, just thinking.”

“About the party?”

I sighed. “Among other things.”

Aiden wrinkled his nose. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

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I tilted my head, amused despite myself. “What is?”

“You and Logan.”

A flutter of something settled behind my ribs. “What do you mean?”

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Aiden shrugged, unbothered. “I like Logan. He’s really nice. But he feels more like a big brother than a dad.”

I stared at him.

Something in my chest twisted, but I forced a smile. “You think so?”

Aiden nodded, completely unaware of the storm his words had just caused inside me.

Before I could respond, he was already bouncing onto his next thought. “Can I go ride the horses?”

I ruffled his curls. “If you take someone with you.”

He grinned and dashed off before I could change my mind.

I watched him go, my heart still tangled in the simple truth he had just given me.

Logan was safe. Reliable. Kind. But he wasn’t Aiden’s father.

And on some level, even Aiden knew it.

***

The memory recovery sessions were frustrating.

The tepid art on the walls hadn’t changed, and neither had I. No matter how many sessions I went to, we never seemed to get any closer to the memories I was so desperate to unlock.

Images would come to me, but they didn’t feel important. And when something came along that felt big, that felt more, it never lasted.

They were just flashes. Fragments.

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For the most part, the only memories I could piece together were happy ones.

Moments of laughter. Pieces of conversations that seemed unimportant and banal.

And every single one of them centered around happy family moments with my mother. My father. Mason. Logan.

The doctor sat across from me, his expression patient as I closed my eyes and let the images flicker behind my eyelids.

A boy, grinning. Running through the gardens of Moonstone. Blonde hair, green eyes, dimples. Happy. Safe. I knew that face.

I had seen it a thousand times.

It was Logan.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push past that.

Every time I reached for something before the laughter, before the safety, before the

warmth–I lost it.

Like water slipping through cupped hands. Like it had never been mine to hold onto in the first place.

And there was something else. A moment. A flicker of something that felt different.

Another boy. Older.

Maybe twelve or thirteen? On the raw edge of manhood, ready to sprout up like a new growth of bamboo. He was hurt. Had a cut running from his forehead up into his hairline.

But his eyes weren’t green. And he didn’t smile the same way Logan did.

There was something harder in his expression. Something sharp.

Something familiar.

I gasped. I was so close to remembering…

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And then it was gone.

***

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By the time I returned home, my mind was still spinning.

The sessions always left me drained, but this time, I couldn’t shake the lingering remnants of the boy who had flashed behind my eyelids.

Had it been a memory? Or had it been a dream?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely noticed where I was walking until I heard voices through the slightly ajar door of my father’s office.

I stopped.

J

“…he’s proposing that Moonstone and Silverclaw meet before the Summit,” Mason was saying. “If we can come to an agreement before we’re forced into one by the Council, it’ll be better for both sides. I hate to give the guy credit, but he’s probably not wrong.”

Silverclaw.

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