Page 4 of His Found Lycan Luna

“I would if I could, but only the king can heal you. My saliva or blood won’t work on you since you aren’t mine,” Gannon tells me, cupping my face with his huge hand. What does he mean? I thought all Lycans can heal.

“Did the king refuse you to?” I ask him and he frowns. “No, Ivy. But Lycans can only heal their mates,” he tells me.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Once the moon is at its highest peak, I will take you outside, so you can shift, My Queen,” Gannon says.

“Please don’t call me that,” I murmur, looking away from him. As he said, this is no place for a queen, a slave maybe, but not a queen, and clearly Kyson doesn’t want me to be his.

“I need to ask you something,” Gannon says, unlocking his phone and scrolling through the pictures. He stops before turning his phone to me.

“Do you know this woman?” he asks, and I take the phone from him. A whimper escapes from my lips when I realize it is my mother. I nod, tears trekking down my face.

“She’s my mom,” I smile, brushing my thumb over the picture ofher. She looks a little younger than I remember in this picture, but I know it is her. Gannon hangs his head and shakes it. He sighs heavily before looking up at me.

“He will come around, Ivy. You just need to give him space,” Gannon tells me.

Come around to what?I think. How does everyone seem to know what’s going on except for me?

“What do you mean? I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?” I ask. Gannon frowns when I see his eyes glaze over, and I can tell he is mindlinking. I wait for him to finish, and his eyes flicker before falling back on me.

“You did nothing. It’s what your mother did. She killed the Landeena king and queen; she also killed the king’s sister.”

I blink, astonished, unable to believe what I’m hearing. That would be impossible. She couldn’t have.

“Just try to get some rest. After your shift, I will take you to Kyson’s old quarters, he can’t keep you down here forever, it will drive his Lycan side mad.”

“But my birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks,” I tell him.

“The fact you recognized the king as your mate, Ivy, shows your birthday is today,” he says, just as I hear someone curse.

The stable door opens, and hope bubbles in me at the thought of it being Kyson to tell me this was some sick joke, but it is just Clarice and Abbie. They stop by the door and glance at Gannon, who nods to them before standing and leaving. He stops by Clarice at the door.

“Don’t be long; I don’t want to be dragging you to the cells for disobeying the king,” Gannon tells them. Clarice nods before rushing in with Abbie close behind her. Abbie embraces me, hugging me then checking me over, while Clarice stands with a frosted cupcake in her hand, a deep look of concern on her face.

“You’ve been baking,” I tell Abbie, whose uniform is covered in flour. Sheshakes her head.

“No, I just spilled the bag on the counter before I came down here. Clarice made a cake for you,” she tells me, dusting herself off.

“Well, I had a cake made, but I couldn’t carry it down,” Clarice says sadly.

Abbie falls to her knees beside me, her eyes wide with excitement. Excitement that quickly dims. “You should have seen it, Ivy. Clarice did a good job. She spent all day making it. It’s so pretty, better than the ones we used to make at the orphanage, it…” Abbie trails off before frowning.

“You enjoy it then,” I tell her, knowing just how much we always wished to celebrate our birthdays but were never allowed. We had been strictly forbidden to make ourselves birthday treats or sample the other treats we made in the kitchen. Abbie and I would stare longingly at them. We never knew if they tasted alright, but the delight on the kids’ faces told us they must have, or maybe they were just being polite.

Clarice nervously glances at the stable doors. “We can’t stay long; Gannon is right; the king is on the warpath, but I couldn’t let you go without wishing you happy birthday,” Clarice says, placing the blue cupcake in my hand. She stabs a candle in it and lights it with a match, while I stare at the flickering flame.

This was never how I pictured my birthday to be, not that I ever saw myself actually celebrating one, the one chance I might have had was now stolen from me once again, yet this one hurts the most. Maybe because for a second, I thought it was going to be a good day.

“Blow it out and make a wish,” Clarice says, and to humor her, I do. Abbie smiles sadly and kisses my knee where she is crouched beside me, her green eyes filled with tears.

“What did you wish for?” Clarice asks, a teary smile on her face.

“I wished to be free,” I whisper, and Abbie sobs.

“Don’t,” she chokes the word as if it strangles her. “Don’t say that,” Abbie cries.

“I think it’s a good wish,” Clarice says, staring in confusion at Abbie.

“Not where we come from. The only freedom rogues getis in death,” Abbie chokes out, and Clarice stares back at me, bewildered, before grabbing my face in her shaking hands.

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