Moon Bound Desires

The chandelier above Harper cost more than her soul.

That was the only thought keeping her from screaming as her mother presented her like a prize calf at auction. She stood beside her father, her smile so practiced it could be framed in the Louvre, while across from Harper stood the man she was apparently destined to marry.

Lord Elias Montclair. Wealthy. Well-bred. Breathtakingly dull.

He bowed, and Harper curtsied, because that’s what was expected. Because Harper Everleigh, daughter of the esteemed Everleigh family, had to be a vision of grace, duty, and quiet compliance.

“Lady Harper, it is an honor,” he said, his voice smooth as silk yet just as suffocating.

Her lips curved into the polite, dead-eyed smile she had perfected over the years. “The honor is all mine, my lord.”

Lies.

She should be swooning. She should be grateful. But all she could think about was how much she’d rather be anywhere else. Preferably somewhere with a woman who made her pulse race in a way Elias never would.

But duty was duty. Wealth had to remain in the family. And Everleigh women did not disgrace their name.

She took a sip of wine, letting the bitter taste linger on her tongue as Elias began to drone on about his estate. Something about vineyards, trade routes, and the importance of strong family alliances. She nodded where appropriate, feigning interest while her mind drifted beyond the manor walls.

The woods teetering on the outskirts of town were rumored to be cursed.

That the trees drank blood, that shadows moved on their own, and that the beasts lurking within did not howl—but whispered her name.

At that moment, they seemed like the far better option.

As Elias continued to drone on about vineyards, trade routes, and the importance of strong family alliances, Harper’s parents leaned in, hanging on his every word. His smooth, practiced speech about securing the family’s wealth through political maneuvers was exactly what her father loved to hear. They spoke the same language—one of power and influence, as if the only thing worth living for was a series of cold, strategic alliances.

“The Montclair estate has ties with the kingdom of Valerra,” Elias said, his tone smooth, betraying nothing. “We’ve established trade routes with their northern territories, and their queen is a long-time friend of my father. A union between our families could bolster not only our position but—”

Harper wanted to die.

The conversation was suffocating. Her father’s eyes practically sparkled with the mention of royal ties. Her mother’s lips curled into that pleasant smile of hers, the one that only appeared when she was trying to hide her growing excitement.

Elias went on about the king’s new policies and how they’d benefit the Everleigh estate, and her parents nodded along, practically ready to sign the contract in blood.

If they were so interested in him, why don’t they just marry him themselves? Harper had to suppress a chuckle.

She glanced at the poor man standing in front of her, wondering if he even noticed how much they were all pretending. How much her parents were projecting all their ambitions onto him, as if he was some kind of political currency. Elias was a tool in a game she refused to play. And yet, they adored him.

Her mind drifted again to the cursed woods. The dark corners of her imagination where freedom awaited.

But then, like a divine intervention, she decided to cut through the nonsense.

“Actually,” she said, cutting off Elias mid-sentence, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

Everything stopped. The air froze. Her parents looked at her as if she had just confessed to a crime. Elias blinked, his polite smile faltering for a brief second, before he regained composure.

“You’re... rejecting him?” Her mother’s voice was tight with disbelief.

Harper nodded. “Yeah. No offense to Elias, of course,” she added, giving him an apologetic smile. “But, uh... I’ve recently decided I’d rather become a queensguard. You know, warrior life, freedom.”

Elias blinked, looking more confused than hurt, which was honestly a relief. At least she wasn’t about to cause an international incident. Her father was nearly foaming at the mouth, and her mother looked like she might faint.

“Well, that’s... that’s certainly new,” her father finally said, his voice strained, as if he was trying to swallow something large and unpleasant.

Harper continued, pushing it just a little further for fun.

“No, really,” she continued, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated nonchalance. “I mean, I was thinking about fighting in wars, protecting the realm... maybe learning how to wield a sword.” She paused, glancing at Elias. “Swords, Elias. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I know what a sword is, my lady.” He gave a weak smile, clearly baffled, perhaps offended. No matter.

Her parents’ faces fell into horror. She could practically hear their thoughts—Harper, what are you doing? This is your future. Don’t throw it away.

But it was too late. She was already sinking in deeper.

“Have some respect, Harper,” her mother’s voice was sharper, her eyes wide with fury. “This is no joke. This is your future we’re proposing.”

“Mine or yours?” Harper cut in, raising a brow. “Because let’s be real for just a second. You don’t really need me to marry into the Montclair family. You’ve practically already married him with all the way you’re fawning over him.”

Her mother looked scandalized, but Harper could see her thoughts churning. She had shattered some unspoken ideal of what a “proper daughter” should be, and it was delicious.

“Alright,” Harper said, clapping her hands as if this was all some minor inconvenience. “If that is all, I’ll be about my way. Being a queensguard isn’t taught overnight, now is it?” She tittered dryly, rolling her eyes for effect.

***

Later, Harper found herself locked in her room, the door slamming shut with a force that echoed in the hall. Without knocking, her parents barged in with the key to her room. Yes, the key to her room. Why did they have a key to a twenty-five-year-old’s room? Well, because a woman could never ask for privacy.

“You must be out of your goddamned mind, Harper Maria Everleigh.” Her mother’s voice cracked through the tension, stating her full name so she knew, knew, she hadn’t just danced on her last nerve—no, she had practically ripped it out, stomped on it, and set it on fire.

“Mother, language,” Harper mocked, raising an eyebrow. “What would the neighbors think?”

She didn’t appreciate the joke.

“You’re not rejecting Elias,” she snapped, closing the distance between them with a speed that made Harper wonder how many times she had practiced this moment. “You don’t get to throw away everything. This isn’t some rebellious phase. You have a future, a real future. You will marry Elias. You will make sure this family thrives. That’s your duty.”

“Duty.” Harper scoffed, crossing her arms. “Funny. I thought my duty was to become the perfect daughter. But it turns out I was wrong. My real duty is to your precious family name and your endless political games.”

Her mother glared at her, face flushed with frustration, but before she could speak, Harper leaned forward, a sudden rush of defiance swelling in her chest. “You have no idea what I want, do you?”

Her father stood silent in the doorway, watching. Waiting. He knew better than to jump in at this point.

“I want to study the history of this realm. Dawngarde,” Harper said, her voice steady now, like she was claiming something that had been buried for too long. “The real history. Not the one you’ve taught me, but the one that tells the stories of our people—the Nulls—who fought for their place in this land, for what little they could carve out in a world ruled by magic. The magos,” she added, her words growing sharper. “The magic wielders of the realm. The ones who crushed them under their heel, took everything they had, and still demanded more.”

Her parents went silent for a beat. She could see the flicker of confusion and concern in their eyes, but they still didn’t understand.

“I’ve been submitting applications to the universities in Ironsgate,” she added, watching their faces fall. A town just beyond, and the only way to get there was to cross those forbidden, cursed woods—Bloodroot Forest. “That’s what I want, Mother. That’s my future. Not this. Not Elias. I’ll make my own path. A path where I can uncover the lost history of this realm, of the magos who rule us to this day.”

Her mother’s eyes widened, and Harper swore she looked like she might faint. Her father’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he processed this.

“Do you think that future is waiting for you?” her father asked, his voice low and dangerous. “You think the world outside this estate will accept a woman with no dowry, no marriage? You’ll be nothing but a pariah.”

“Then so be it.” Harper stood taller, feeling a spark of something she hadn’t felt in years—freedom. “Because the world outside this estate? It’s where I belong.”

***

Harper couldn’t deny her own heart, her own desires. She knew she was different—knew that her attraction didn’t lie in the arms of a man but in the tender, knowing embrace of a female soul. It was a truth she had carried for as long as she could remember, buried beneath layers of expectation, of duty. But it was a truth nonetheless, one that had begun to crack its way to the surface, uninvited and impossible to ignore any longer.

Later that night, the punishment came.

The door slammed open, and her mother’s figure stormed in like a force of nature. Her eyes were fiery, lips drawn tight with disdain. She didn’t have to speak; Harper already knew what was coming. Without a word, her mother marched straight to the balcony doors, those precious doors that had always been her escape, her quiet haven, and slammed them shut. The unmistakable sound of a lock clicking into place.

Her mother stepped out of the room, locking the door behind her as if Harper were a child again, one to be kept confined. Harper let out a heavy sigh.

She didn’t curse her mother’s name this time. She didn’t scream to the gods, wishing for some miraculous release. She had stopped doing that years ago.

It was pointless.

This was their way of trying to contain her, to force her into submission, to silence the very voice that demanded to be heard.

Harper sat on the edge of her bed, the moonlight barely filtering through the closed windows. Her pulse raced—not from fear, but from something much more powerful. It was that fire inside of her, the one that had been growing for years, the one that refused to be extinguished. It was the fire that would never let her be confined to their ideal.

They could lock her away. They could try to break her, but Harper wasn’t some fragile bird waiting to be freed. She wasn’t something that could be caged.

She stood, her movements slow and deliberate. Crossing the floor, she walked to the balcony doors, her fingers grazing the cold metal of the lock. It was a small thing. It was nothing. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

Harper moved to the vanity and opened the drawer, pulling out a small knife. The kind she used to open letters when she had to play their game of propriety. The blade was far from sharp, but it would do.

She worked at the lock, her fingers steady even as the minutes ticked by. But soon, there was the faint click of the lock giving way, and Harper felt a rush of triumph surge through her veins.

Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t hesitate. She swung the door open, the cool night air rushing in, filling her lungs with the taste of freedom. Her heart thundered in her chest, but it wasn’t from fear.

She stepped out onto the balcony, one last glance over her shoulder at the prison she had been kept in for so long.

They could lock her in all they wanted. Harper would always find a way to break free.

And she would never stop running.

***

Harper ran. She ran until her chest burned, until the air she breathed felt like fire against her lungs. Her calves screamed with cramps, the muscles tightening as each step became more laborious. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in a thick blanket of twilight.

But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop.

The hem of her dress whipped against her legs, the expensive silk billowing behind her as she pushed forward. It was ridiculous, really, the way the dress caught the breeze. She should have left it behind, but instead, it clung to her, a reminder of the life she was running from.

Her expensive bag, gifted to her family by the royals themselves, swung from her shoulder, the leather strap digging into her skin as she clutched it tighter. Inside, she’d stuffed a stack of clothes, money—anything she might need. She hadn’t had time to think it through; there had been no time to plan. She just grabbed what she could, shoved it all into the bag, and ran. The weight of it—money, security, the last remnants of a life she didn’t want—felt absurd as she darted toward the forest, but it was hers.

Then, through the haze, she saw it. Bloodroot Forest.

Since she was a little girl, Harper had been warned of the curse bestowed upon the stretch of land. Those who enter never return. The beasts inside will tear you apart.

The gruesome tales were always the same—corpses found mangled, their entrails ripped from their bodies, strewn across the forest floor. There were whispers of creatures lurking in the shadows, things that moved just beyond the edge of sight, waiting to pounce on the foolish. Harper had always scoffed at these stories, dismissing them as nothing more than childish myths designed to keep kids in line.

After all, how bad could a forest really be?

But as she stood at the edge of it, she couldn’t shake the strange sense of dread creeping up her spine. The forest felt different now. Not like the wild woods she’d wandered as a child, not like the familiar places where she’d sneaked away to find solitude.

This forest... this was something else entirely.

Harper had always believed in the wildness of the realm, the animals that fought tooth and nail for survival. The forest may have been cursed, but it was also alive—full of raw, untamed creatures, just as desperate as she was. And in a way, she understood that struggle. She had always been a part of it, even if she hadn’t realized it until now.

She stepped forward, crossing the boundary into the forest. She had no idea what to expect once in deep territory, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t care. She would reach the territory of Ironsgate.

As if in response to her decision, a gentle hum filled the air, and an eerie stillness enveloped her.

The forest loomed before her like a vast, living entity. The ancient trees stood tall and foreboding, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers to pluck at her. Their leaves, though abundant, seemed muted, as if drained of life by the oppressive darkness that clung to every corner. A faint luminescence emanated from the forest floor, casting haunting shadows.

There’s no going back, she thought.

Harper moved through the darkness of the forest, her steps cautious and her senses heightened. Her gaze darted all around her, drawn to the gnarly trees which cast long shadows. Leaves rustled as the wind swept through them, grating her ears, and every whisper of the hollowed-out cavities of the trees seemed amplified in the silence.

She inhaled sharply, steeling herself. It’s just a forest, she told herself. A creepy, possibly cursed, definitely unpleasant forest, but still just a forest.

Minutes felt like hours, and soon, she had to slow her pace.

Harper wrapped her arms around herself as an unshakeable feeling crept over her.

It was as though unseen eyes followed her every move.

She shuddered.

Then, something cold and smooth slithered over her foot.

Harper froze.

Her breath hitched. Her entire body went rigid. She dared not look down, but she could feel it. The unmistakable glide of scales brushing against her ankle.

There’s no fucking way…

Harper let out a shriek so undignified it could have shattered glass. She leaped into the air as if the forest floor had turned to lava, flailing wildly as she scrambled backward, shaking her foot like she could rid herself of the ghostly sensation.

“Get away. Get away. Get OFF ME—” she gasped, barely stopping herself from toppling over. She stumbled, clinging to a tree for dear life. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she frantically scanned the ground for the slithering demon.

It was gone.

Just like that.

Harper exhaled a shuddering breath, her hands shaking. Pull yourself together, she scolded. You’re running away, not filming the world’s worst survival documentary.

She dusted herself off, huffing. “Stupid forest,” she muttered. “Stupid cursed land. Stupid, slithery spawns of Satan.”

Pushing forward, she tried to regain some sense of dignity. The journey was already proving to be an absolute disaster, but at least she was still moving.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she was doing great—no one had chased her, no ghostly creatures had emerged from the shadows, and apart from her brush with literal death, she was navigating the forest just fine.

As if the gods themselves heard her misplaced confidence, the sky cracked open with a violent streak of lightning.

Harper stopped dead.

A low rumble of thunder followed, deep and menacing, rolling through the air like a warning.

And then the downpour began.

Heavy, merciless rain pelted her, drenching her expensive dress within seconds. She gasped at the freezing sensation, lifting her arms uselessly over her head as if that would somehow shield her.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!” she shouted at the sky.

The heavens, of course, did not respond.

“Where the fuck were these clouds earlier? Of all the days…” Harper muttered drowned-out curses under her breath as the fabric of her dress clung to her damp skin. The temperature dropped around her; her panted breaths were misty, and she cursed for not bringing her shawl.

Her sandals filled with mud, making her toes sticky, and she nearly gagged at the sensation.

“This is Perfect. Just perfect. Exactly how I wanted my great escape to go. Cold, wet, and looking like a drowned rat.” She wiped her soaked hair from her face, grumbling.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the dark forest for a split second. The silhouette of something large—just beyond a grove of trees—caught her eye.

A cave.

Salvation.

Harper didn’t think twice, breaking into a full sprint toward it, sloshing through the mud, shoes ruined, dress a lost cause. She all but threw herself inside, chest heaving, water dripping off her in puddles.

Peering over her shoulder, Harper swallowed thickly as she could barely see three feet behind her. The light from just outside the rain-swept entrance only illuminated a few steps into the cave. As Harper took in a deep breath, the cool and damp air smelled of earth around her, with a hint of metallic from the wet stone.

She leaned against the cave wall, groaning. “I hate everything. I hate the forest. I hate the rain. I hate that I didn’t bring a damn jacket. I swear, if one more thing goes wrong—”

A deep voice rumbled from the darkness.

“It’s quite rude to enter someone’s space uninvited.” The voice echoed from within the cave, tinged with irritancy.

Harper went rigid.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned toward the voice.