The Nameless Luna – Book Three: For Her, He Falls
: Chapter 1

If the corridors of the nightwalker’s castle were dark and confusing before, they’ve become positively mazelike in preparation for the battle. Viktor has us vastly outnumbered, but it seems we have a few tricks up our sleeve as well.
Now that I’ve manifested my wolf, I can mind link with the Rovers and communicate telepathically with them during the battle. Tristan will lead the wolves, my father will lead the nightwalkers, and I will be the bridge between the two.
Mark and Amara will lead the forces on the bridge, Nico will be our head scout, and Lucy will be our combat nurse. When I asked her if she had any training and she scoffed, insisting that I should never underestimate her skill set. Besides, her job will be less about specialized healing or advanced procedures, and more about responding to a crisis in the fastest, kindest way possible to help our individual warriors survive the battle and, if possible, rejoin the fight.
‘I don’t freak out under pressure, and I have a steady hand. I won’t be much good out there against an opponent, not like Mark and Amara. I know how to defend myself, but I’m not kidding myself. I’m no warrior. I can’t tear the enemy down, but I can pick up a friend when they fall, blood guts and all. I suppose that will have to be enough.’
I told her that it would be and wholeheartedly reassured her that she was as much of a warrior as the rest of us.
Still, the way she talked about patching people up reminded me I was not the only one among the Rovers who was used to violent people in power.
We are all survivors here.
When I asked Helena if she would join Lucy’s efforts to try and change the subject, the healer merely gave me a sad smile that made me feel like a child beside her.
‘I will go where I am needed, my princess.’
One of the other vampires chuckled when Helena walked away and said, ‘She wasn’t always a healer, you know? Don’t let those skinny arms fool you. She can make a person bleed in ways you cannot imagine.’
I didn’t particularly want to. It was a grim thought, but I suppose that these are grim times.
Helena also showed Sophie the way around the square that would serve as shelter for anyone who couldn’t fight. The Rovers’ Seer will be in charge of keeping the innocent away from the battle, though she seemed disappointed to part ways with the nightwalker’s healer. It seems the two hit it off.
So maybe not entirely grim times, but certainly… different. The alliance between two enemy species that hated each other throughout centuries of myth and legend is actually going quite well.
‘I guess having a common enemy and a shared need to survive will do that to people,’ I told my father as we stood along the watchtower on the wall.
‘Perhaps. But I do not think the men and women of two armies are willing to lay down their lives over our mutual distaste of Viktor Massen, sweet child,’ he said, speaking in that soft, sweet tone he reserved only for me. ‘We are all fighting for what we want. Even the Banes. But the difference between love and greed is not desire. It’s whether someone else gets hurt.’
Viktor wants power. The Banes want to serve a man they believe will lead them to a better future. His allies want to feel safe from the existence of vampires.
But the nightwalkers want to be free; they want to exist without having to hide away in secret or fear. The Rovers want to have a home where they are welcome to be who they are without the threat of being hunted just for being different.
And me? I want…
‘Night King,’ Tristan says in greeting, suddenly stepping through the narrow doorway to join us by the tower’s viewpoint.
‘Wolf King,’ my father replies politely. Marco turns his attention back to me before pressing a kiss to my forehead in an uncharacteristic show of affection. We’re running out of time, and we all know it. ‘I’ll leave you two to talk.’
He leaves without another word, walking away to join his soldiers as we lie in wait for the inevitable.
‘I didn’t hear you coming up,’ I tell Tristan, frowning slightly. ‘Since feeding, since my wolf… my senses are stronger, but I didn’t sense you coming in just now.’
He comes to stand beside me, looking out of the narrow arrowslit with a wry smile.
‘You turned into a full nightwalker a week ago, and you only manifested your wolf less than a day ago. Let yourself adjust; your senses will sharpen when you need them to.’
‘It feels like they’re already too sharp. I just don’t know how to focus them. I don’t even know the full range of my nightwalker abilities. I mean, my father can turn into a swarm of bats and travel through shadows. I mean, he can literally walk through darkness. What if I shift into a bat instead of a wolf? I’ve only transformed once. What if I get overwhelmed?’
‘Give yourself time.’
‘But what if we don’t have time?’ I ask, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice.
‘Flower…’ he turns away from the little stone window to look at me.
‘Don’t tell me it’s not true. We all know the risk we’re about to face, and at the very least, I should be able to sense my own mate in the next room over.’ The words tumble out of me like a torrent, and I cannot stop myself. Fear and uncertainty and a whole storm of other emotions bubble out in a panic attack that has me stuttering.
‘I-I mean, I know we’re not really… I know we’re not really mates. I can’t- we can’t be. And I know I’m lucky to even be alive, let alone that I have someone like you in my life. But what if I freak out? It-it wouldn’t be the first time, and I can’t let myself become a burden on the battlefield. I can’t be useless out there.’ Almost two decades of taunts and abuse echo in the back of my mind, marked permanently onto my skin. Useless. Freak. Burden. Abomination. Waste. Failure. ‘I mean, just now, I couldn’t even smell you or hear your heartbeat before you came in.’
He closes the distance between us, his arms around my waist as he turns us around and pushes me back so my back is pressed to the wall. His hands move to pin my hips in place, and he leans forward until his breath brushes against my lips. My head goes quiet, a slight gasp escaping my parted lips as heat flushes me. Suddenly, all that bottled up, blood boiling, pulse pounding anxiety sizzles out, as if he’s burned it to a crisp with a single look of those golden eyes.
Suddenly, my heart is rushing for a different reason, and the world feels silent and small in the space between our bodies.
‘You have never been, are not, and will never be a burden,’ he says with such intensity that all I can do is stand there, my body dancing on a thin edge between adrenaline and calm. ‘Do you know why I call you my flower?’
He wants to talk about that now?
‘Um, y-you saw me in the garden. I was holding a flower, and I love—’
‘Flowers are beautiful. They can thorns or petals and produce nectar or poison. They can have meaning, even if everyone doesn’t know it. They appear delicate and soft, but they can grow in even the unlikeliest of places, creeping in through the cracks and blossoming in between the pavement, creating joy wherever you replace them. They are small and subtle, but they help create the very air we breathe. They make the world a better place, and you know what?’
Frankly, I don’t even know if I’m still breathing.
I don’t think he’s ever spoken so many words at once, and he’s looking at me like I mean more than the world itself.
‘A flower doesn’t have to try and be a flower. It cannot fail at being a flower. It is never useless. A flower makes the world a better place just by existing in it.’