His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: THE REJECTION

Verity’s Perspective

The garden was thick with tension, alive with hushed murmurs and heavy disbelief. Countless pairs of eyes were fixed on me—some judging, others accusing, many simply bewildered. I longed to vanish, to slip back into the shadows, retreat to the safety of the tower, to disappear into nothingness.

Yet, my feet remained rooted to the spot.

Before me stood the prince—the man who had just claimed me, who had marked me as his own—positioned between me and my sister. His gaze flickered between us, as if we were two halves of a coin, identical yet utterly different, and he couldn’t tell which was genuine and which counterfeit.

“Felicity,” he said slowly, his voice shaking with uncertainty, “I—I didn’t know. I thought it was you.”

Felicity’s lip curled in disdain. Her eyes blazed with a fury that seemed ready to ignite at any moment. Turning toward the prince, she gestured sharply at me, as though I were nothing more than dirt beneath her heel. “She’s a witch,” she hissed venomously. “A shapeshifter, or some rogue mongrel dabbling in dark magic. I don’t have a twin.”

I recoiled inwardly, the accusation hitting me like a physical blow.

“I don’t—” The prince’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “You look identical. But she… she felt like my mate.”

“That’s because she’s deceived you,” Felicity spat, her voice cracking with emotion. “She doesn’t belong here. She’s dangerous!”

“No,” came a gentle voice, barely above a whisper.

All heads turned toward the source.

My mother stepped forward, her gaze locked on me—not with revulsion or fear, but with something achingly human: regret, sorrow, recognition.

“She’s not a witch,” she declared, her voice growing stronger. “She is—”

“Enough!” my father’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. His tone was icy, his presence commanding and cold as winter frost. He faced the prince directly. “You’ve made an error, Prince Theron. This girl is not of noble blood. She is not your mate.”

Theron’s eyes searched mine again, uncertainty clouding his expression.

“I… I marked her,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The bond—”

“It’s dark magic,” Felicity interrupted sharply. “It has to be.”

“Reject her,” my father commanded, his eyes hard and resolute. “Now.”

A shiver ran through me, deep and uncontrollable.

Theron’s jaw tightened. His gaze hardened as it flicked from me to Felicity, then to the gathering court behind them—circling like vultures, their whispers weaving lies into supposed truths, twisting truth into venom.

“Reject her,” Felicity repeated, stepping closer to him, her voice pleading and harsh at once. “Choose me. Like you were meant to.”

Theron’s eyes met mine one last time.

And then, with a voice that shattered everything inside me, he spoke the words.

“I, Prince Theron Vale of Duskwood, reject you.”

In that moment, time seemed to freeze.

But the pain did not.

It struck me like a bolt of lightning tearing through my very bones. I gasped for air, but none came. My chest caved inward, my lungs seized painfully, and a fierce fire erupted within me—wild, merciless, and relentless.

The bond clawed its way free from my soul, scraping like nails on raw flesh. My knees gave way beneath me. I tried to scream, but no sound escaped. My throat burned fiercely, my vision blurred, and the world tilted dangerously.

I was dying.

No, worse than dying.

I was unraveling from the inside out.

Tears streamed down my face as I collapsed, my hands clawing desperately at the cold earth beneath me. Words eluded me. Pleas were impossible. I couldn’t even grasp why this agony existed. Was this what Grace had warned me of when she said a rejection would hurt?

The world was dark. Colder than the tower. Colder than stone.

The rejection echoed through my soul like a haunting melody I could not escape. I curled into myself, hugging my knees tightly. I didn’t have the strength to cry. All I could do was breathe.

Barely.

Hours passed. Or perhaps days.

Then I heard it.

Low growls. The snap of twigs underfoot. The soft padding of paws against the earth.

I turned my head slightly, vision still blurred, and saw them.

Beasts.

Massive, cloaked in dark fur, eyes glowing like smoldering embers.

They crept toward me slowly, heads lowered, teeth bared in silent menace.

My breath caught in my throat. My limbs refused to obey. My body was too broken.

If this was the end…

Let it be swift.

The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me—

Were those glowing red eyes.

And the faint, terrifying sound of a snarl.