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Chapter 74 Milk Please
Last Updated:
2023-09-04 03:56:09
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Will Bear the Moon Chapter 84 Shoot the Messenger
*Naska* The hallways blurred white around her like fever dreams.Heels struck hard against the marble, each sharp clap echoing off the vaulted arches like vulture caws as Naska flew through the corridor, grace abandoned to desperation. Cold air clawed at her throat with every ragged breath, her chest constricting beneath the threadbare bodice of her weak muslin gown. The silver platter rattled wildly in her trembling grip, porcelain fragments skating across its lip like dice in a gambler's cup. Coffee splashed against her wrist—scalding, bitter—while one stubborn shard still held its delicate gold rim, chiming faintly with every jostle like a cracked bell.None of it mattered. Not the coffee, not the mess, not the pain blooming across her knuckles where broken ceramic had drawn blood.I have to get to Mykhol.The corridor tunneled,narrowing until her world became nothing but the relentless pounding of her pulse and the echo of her Empress's voice stabbing through her skull like a se
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 83 The Weight of Rain
*Anastasia*The velvet beneath my palms is damp with more than rain—it trembles with the quiet shake I've only now begun to notice threading through my bones.I press down harder, willing the feeling to smooth out beneath the pressure, willing the tremor to settle before my fingers must meet the brass of the doorknob. Willing myself to feel certain again, though certainty feels as distant as summer warmth.The east corridor ahead breathes quiet and warm, flushed with the gentle flickering of the sconces overhead. I see no servants, but their absence feels deliberate—as if they've scattered like sparrows before a storm. Likely steering clear of Hidi, like usual, as much as they can help it. The giantess is still having that effect after all these years, but might as well. I release a breath held too long, the kind of breath that tastes of secrets and sounds like someone listening just around the corner. My boots leave soft, dark prints across the rose-colored carpet runner, each step
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 82 Hung Up to Dry
*Bruno*The almost-kiss still hung in the air like smoke—thick, suffocating, impossible to wave away.Bruno didn't move. He didn't have to.Pendwick's face said everything. Not just the crimson flush creeping up his neck like spilled wine, or the dazed, too-wide eyes that reminded Bruno of a startled deer. It was the way his breath came in shallow, uneven pulls, like a man caught between a prayer and a curse. The way his fingers twitched at his sides—helpless, grasping—as if reaching for something already lost to the wind.Bruno hadn't meant to catch them. Not like that.But he hadn't looked away, either.The rain had returned with a vengeance—sharp, needle-cold drops that sliced through the lingering warmth of the stable’s quiet and found every threadbare patch in his cloak. The worn fabric clung to his shoulders like a second skin, heavy and unforgiving. Water dripped steadily from the frayed edges, pooling in the hollows of his collarbones before trailing down his chest in icy rivu
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 81 Sounds of Salt and Rain
*Ana*The rain returns as a whisper first—thin, icy drops clicking gently against the stable roof like a ticking clock. Time, slipping away again. The wind shifts through the open doors, carrying the scent of wet pavement and damp frozen earth, mingling with the faint perfume of dried roses from my garden—invisible beyond the courtyard walls but somehow reaching me here, curling beneath my coat collar like ghostly fingers at my throat.Pendwick doesn't speak at first. He remains frozen in place, gloves clutched so tightly in one hand that his knuckles have gone white, while his other hovers awkwardly near the front of his doublet—uncertain whether to bow, salute, or perhaps bury his fist in his own stomach. His expression wavers between forced pleasantries and something rawer, more desperate.Strawberry exhales sharply beside me, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air. I reach to brush her flank again, the familiar motion usually comforting, but my strokes grow slower, more h
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 80 Sugar Cube
*Ana* The rain has finally stopped. Not that I'd noticed right away—what with my ears still ringing from the hours in court, my head too thick with thoughts to recognize the earned silence. But here, in the stables, where it smells like damp hay and warm leather, everything feels hushed. The horses snort softly, shifting in their stalls, their breath curling into the cold air in heady puffs of white smoke. A soft clop of hooves against worn stone, the creak of old beams overhead—the world narrows to this small, living rhythm. Familiar. Comforting. Real.I rest my hand against the flank of the chestnut mare beside me, feeling her warmth seep through my palm like sunlight through glass. She's calm. Solid. Her ribs expand and contract with each steady breath, and I match mine to hers without realizing it. My fingers slide through her coarse winter coat again and again, the edge of my sleeve catching slightly on the rougher patches near her shoulder. The fox trim darkens where I've touc
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 79 Sinking While Standing
*Pendwick* There were worse places to be standing by the time court dismissed—a lightning strike, say, that burnt him to a crisp. Or perhaps under a falling chandelier, the crystal shards slicing him into ribbons. But next to his grandfather while the last of the nobles trickled out after Lord Mykhol’s little performance?That might be the closest runner-up.Pendwick stood near one of the great arched windows flanking the throne room’s marble columns. The frozen winds beyond the stained glass breathed cold against his back, seeping through the fine wool of his court jacket like icy fingers tracing his spine. But it was the heat building beside him that made sweat bead beneath his collar, salt-sharp and cloying against his throat. Sir Celbest, his grandfather, radiated silent fury—a furnace of rage that seemed to scorch the very air between them. Pendwick knew better than to acknowledge it.He kept his shoulders back until they ached, the muscle between his shoulder blades burning as
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