AXIRA 

Fear didn't cover what I felt. Not even close.

My hands were sweating through the fabric of my dress and I kept smoothing it down like that would fix anything.

"You're going to wear a hole in that dress." Veyla pried the glass out of my hand and pushed a different one into it. "Drink. You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine." I insisted even though I felt like the world was spinning on its axis. 

"You're the color of a dead fish."

I took a sip. Ugh. Too sweet. I drank it anyway because it gave my hands something to do besides shake.

The courtyard was packed with people. Lanterns strung wall to wall, half the pack crammed in, laughing too loud as they always liked to do when there's free wine involved. 

My mother had picked this dress herself — it was cream, high-necked, nothing that drew the eye — and I understood why the second I walked in and felt every gaze assess me anyway.

“That's her. The Serath girl.”

“The one the goddess picked for the Alpha's son.”

“Didn't expect that.”

I heard the last one clearest, because the woman saying it didn't bother lowering her voice much. I kept my chin up and pretended I hadn't.

"Ignore them," Veyla muttered.

"I am." I whispered, keeping my expression blank. 

"Kinda seems like you are. Your ears are very red. You're actually easy to read, you just don't seem to realise it." She grinned at me, quick and warm, the kind of grin she always gave that used to fix most of my bad days when we were kids. It didn't quite reach this time, but I appreciated the effort.

Across the courtyard, Ravion stood with a cluster of elders, his gold hair catching the lantern light while he was deep in conversation that looked important enough to require his full attention. He hadn't looked at me once since I'd arrived.

"He's just nervous," Veyla said, following my gaze. "Boys get weird before ceremonies."

"Did he tell you that?" I didn’t look at her, my gaze remained fixed on Ravion. 

The Alphas’ son. 

The man I would formally get mated to in a short time. 

"I'm guessing." She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Stop spiraling. Tonight's supposed to be good for you."

Good for me. I almost laughed. Nothing in my life had ever come with that label attached and I didn't know if tonight was going to be different. 

I was nervous. 

It felt like I was going to be sick too. 

"Axira Serath."

I turned, gaze searching for who had called my name.

Elder Sen, flanked by two others I didn't recognize, all three of them wearing a kind of smile that didn't touch anything below the mouth.

"Elder Sen." I dipped my head, the way I'd been taught, the way that cost me nothing and had never once gotten me anything either in this pack.

"Quite the night for you." His eyes moved over me, slowly and assessing, the way you'd look over livestock before deciding whether it was worth the price. "The goddess certainly works in strange ways."

"I suppose she does."

"We were just saying—" the elder beside him leaned in, voice pitched to sound confidential and also loud enough that a dozen people nearby could hear it anyway, "—it's a bold choice. The Serath line isn't exactly known for producing strong wolves."

"Bold," Elder Sen agreed, nodding slowly, like the word had just occurred to him and wasn't something he'd clearly walked over here to say. "Still. The Alpha's son could use someone soft at his side. Balance him out."

Soft. Like I was a pillow. Like the best thing anyone could say about me was that I wouldn't get in the way.

"I'm sure Ravion knows what he wants," I said, and kept my voice even, because falling apart in front of Elder Sen was exactly the kind of thing that would end up in tomorrow's gossip alongside ‘poor, poor girl.’

But I couldn't keep behaving like that. I was about to be named future Luna of the pack whether they liked it or not. 

"Of course, of course." He patted my shoulder, the gesture somehow more condescending than anything he'd actually said. "We only want what's best for the pack. I'm sure you understand."

They drifted off toward the wine table, already murmuring to each other before they were fully out of earshot, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"They're just old and bitter," Veyla shook her head. "Ignore them."

"Everyone keeps telling me to ignore everyone. It's beginning to get annoying.”

"Because everyone has opinions and none of them matter." She turned me by the shoulders so I was facing her instead of the crowd, instead of Elder Sen's retreating back, instead of Ravion still not looking at me. "Listen to me. Once he picks you tonight — once it's over, once it's done in front of everyone — they don't get to talk like that anymore. You'll be his mate. They'll have to respect that, whether they like the Serath line or not."

"You really think it works like that?"

"I know it works like that." She squeezed my hands, both of them this time, and there was something fierce in her face that I didn't examine too closely because I was too grateful for the warmth of it to ask what was underneath. "Tonight, everything changes. You stop being the girl they whisper about and you start being someone they have to answer to."

I wanted to believe her so badly it ached.

"Do you think he'll be kind?" I asked, hating how small my voice came out.

Something blank moved behind her eyes, there and gone in a second before I could name it. "I think," she said carefully, "that whatever happens tonight, you're going to be fine. Better than fine."

The horn sounded, the sound long and foreboding, and the whole courtyard turned at once.

"That's you." She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, hard enough to hurt before she let go. "Go."

My legs moved before I told them to. I didn't remember crossing the courtyard. I just remembered arriving where I needed to be — Ravion in front of me, close enough that I could count the buttons on his jacket, close enough to smell the wine on him.

He still wasn't looking at me. Not really. His eyes were somewhere over my shoulder, on the crowd, on his father, anywhere but my face.

The elder officiating cleared his throat and started in on the ceremony proper. Moon goddess. Bonds forged before birth, sealed by choice, witnessed by pack. Words I'd heard a hundred times at other people's ceremonies and never once thought I'd stand still long enough to hear said about me.

I caught my mother's face in the crowd. She was composed and watching carefully. There was not a flicker of nerves anywhere on her, which struck me as strange even in the moment. It felt like I was the only one nervous right now. 

My heart was so loud I almost missed the question.

"Ravion Drenthe. Do you accept Axira Serath as your mate, bonded by blood, chosen by the goddess, sealed before your pack?"

A pause followed and I sucked in air sharply.

The whole pack seemed to be still, everyone watching and waiting for Ravion to accept. To say the words that would seal me as their future luna. 

"I, Ravion Drenthe—" He started and his voice carried easily, like he'd said this a thousand times in his head already, "—reject Axira Serath as my mate.”

My heart seemed to stop and I felt the world shift beneath my feet. 

What? 

MALAKAR'S POV

Wow. That's cold.

I hadn't planned on staying for the whole ceremony. Politics dragged me to Emberclaw more often than I liked, and my nephew's bonding was the kind of event I could have skipped without anyone missing me. But my brother had insisted, and there was little point arguing with the Alpha King when he wanted his family paraded in front of the pack.

So I stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, and watched Ravion reject a girl in front of three hundred witnesses like he was declining a second helping of wine.

She didn't move. That was the first thing I noticed. Most people, rejected like that, at least flinch. She just stood there in her pale dress, hands loose at her sides, staring at him like she was waiting for the rest of the sentence.

But it never came and it seemed like she didn't know what to do with that. 

"Rough," Kael murmured beside me. My beta had a talent for understatement.

"Mm." I nodded without saying anything. 

The courtyard hadn't decided how to react yet. Everyone had gone quiet and there was this complete hush that had everyone just staring at the scene in front of them. 

Then someone laughed.

It started as a chuckle, something loud enough to be heard, but low enough to not carry around the room yet. And that seemed to break whatever held the rest of them back, because the whispering started immediately after, everyone seeming to have one opinion about the scene in front of them. 

And it wasn't pretty. 

"—always knew the Serath girl wasn't enough—"

"—can't even keep a mate for five minutes—"

"—did you see her face—"

I watched the girl's spine stay straight through all of it. Whatever was happening behind her eyes, she wasn't letting it show on the surface. I respected that honestly. 

She was hurt. That much was evident, but she did not say any thing. 

Then her mother stepped forward. "Get up," the woman hissed, low enough that I only caught it because I was close and my hearing was better than most. "You're embarrassing us."

The girl said something back, too quiet for me to hear, and whatever it was, it earned her a slap across the face hard enough to snap her head sideways.

The courtyard went dead silent.

"Alpha." Kael's voice, tight, right at my shoulder. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I know that look." He hissed. 

I hadn't realized my face was doing anything. I unfolded my arms.

"This isn't ours to interfere with," Kael said, quieter now and more urgent. "It's Serath business. Pack business. If you step in—"

"She's still standing there."

"That's not the point. The point is if the Alpha of Vargulf Valley steps into a rejection ceremony that isn't his, you're making a statement you can't take back. Ravion will take it as an insult. The Seraths will take it as pity. Either way you're starting something."

He wasn't wrong. He was rarely wrong, which was most of why I kept him close.

The girl still hadn't moved. A red mark bloomed across her cheek where her mother had struck her, and she stood there with tears running freely now, not bothering to wipe them. She was not bothering to look at anyone, just staring at some fixed point past the whole crowd like if she looked hard enough at nothing, maybe all this would turn out to be a dream. 

"Alpha," Kael said again.

"I heard you the first time."

I crossed the courtyard anyway.

The whispering died as I walked, replaced by something more quiet and more nervous — the kind of silence reserved for an Alpha nobody in that courtyard had expected to see move. 

I felt eyes track me the whole way, felt the weight of my brother's gaze from across the crowd, felt Ravion's attention snap toward me like he'd only just registered I was there at all.

I stopped in front of the girl. Up close, she was younger than I'd assumed from across the courtyard, and the mark on her face was already darkening.

She looked up at me like she wasn't entirely sure I was real.

"Axira Serath," I called out her name, my voice loud and filled with authority. I already knew her name — everyone in the territory had known it for weeks, the girl the goddess supposedly chose for the Alpha's son.

"Yes," she said, voice cracking on the single syllable.

I turned to face the crowd. Her mother. Her father, a few feet back, his expression caught somewhere between fury and calculation. Ravion, still standing at the altar like he hadn't quite finished being the center of attention and resented having it taken from him this fast.

"She's rejected," I said, loud enough to carry. "Which means she's unclaimed."

Nobody answered and it was mostly because nobody dared to.

"I'll take her."

The courtyard erupted instantly. There wasn't any loud protests — nobody was foolish enough to shout over an Alpha — but the collective intake of breath was audible, a sound like the whole crowd had been struck at once, followed immediately by a low roar of whispers even faster and hungrier than the ones before.

I didn't wait for permission because I hadn't asked for any.

Behind me, close enough that only I could hear it, Kael exhaled something that sounded like a curse.

"You've just made this so much worse," he muttered.

Maybe he was right. 

But I wasn't about to watch a young girl become the object of ridicule. 

It shouldn't have been any of my business — but somehow, I just made it mine. 

AXIRA

My head snapped up so fast my neck ached.

What? 

The Alpha of Vargulf Valley was standing in front of me. Malakar Drenthe. I'd heard the name my whole life the way you hear a story meant to keep children in line — behave, or the Vargulf Alpha will hear about it — except he wasn't a story. He was real, very tall when next to me, and close enough that I had to tip my head back to hold his gaze, and every part of me wanted to look away and couldn't.

They said he'd killed a rogue Alpha with his bare hands before he turned twenty. They said his own wolf had started slipping the leash years ago, that something in him was cracking slowly and permanently, that the reason he ruled alone in that valley of his was because nobody sane wanted to be close when it finally broke. 

Mothers used him to frighten their children into obedience. I'd used him that way myself, once, half-jokingly, telling Veyla I'd feed her to the Vargulf Alpha if she didn't stop stealing my hair pins.

Now he was standing over me with my mother's handprint still burning on my cheek, and I couldn't remember how to breathe right.

"She's rejected," he said, to the whole courtyard, not to me. "Which means she's unclaimed."

My stomach dropped somewhere past the floor.

"I'll take her."

The courtyard made a sound like it had been struck. I wasn't listening anymore. My legs were numb and my ears were ringing.

Oh fuck. 

I was screwed. 

"Alpha Drenthe." My father, pushing forward, and even through my fog I registered how careful his voice was, how his voice shook with fear. Fear that he would offend the Alpha. "This is — forgive me, but this isn't necessary. A rejection is a family matter. We'll handle it within the Serath—"

"You handled it fine so far." Malakar didn't even look at him. "Slapping her in front of three hundred witnesses. Very handled."

My father's mouth snapped shut and I shuddered at how easy it was to put him in his place. 

"Alpha, please." Elder Sen came over this time, stepping in with his hands raised like he was approaching something dangerous, which— I supposed, looking at Malakar's face— he was. "There's no need to concern yourself with this. The girl comes from an unremarkable line. Surely there are more suitable—"

"I didn't ask for a character reference."

"With respect—"

"You have none to spare, so save it."

A ripple went through the crowd, the kind of nervous laughter that comes out sideways when nobody's brave enough to actually laugh. Elder Sen's face went the color of old parchment paper and he stepped back into the crowd like it might swallow him whole and spare him further embarrassment.

My mother tried next, and her voice had none of my father's careful fear in it — just pure, indignant fury, like the audacity belonged to Malakar and not to her, moments ago, when her palm had connected with my face.

"You cannot simply claim someone else's daughter in the middle of a ceremony—"

"I can, actually." He finally turned, and I watched my mother's fury falter under the weight of his stare. "Ask your elders. Or don't, since apparently their advice isn't worth much to you tonight either."

Nobody spoke.

I realized, distantly, that I hadn't spoken either. That I was still sitting there on the ground where I'd fallen— when had I fallen? — with my face throbbing and my mind three steps behind everything happening around me. That the man everyone in three territories feared had just decided my entire future in the space of ten sentences, and nobody had once asked me what I wanted.

He looked down at me again. Up close, his eyes weren't what I expected. I'd expected something colder. What I found instead was something unreadable and assessing. It was sharp and searching, burning through me. 

"Can you stand?" he asked.

It was the first thing anyone had said to me since the rejection that wasn't cruel or performative. I found that, somehow, more disorienting than everything else.

"I— yes." I didn't move.

"Then stand."

I stood. My legs shook doing it, and I hated that they shook, hated that he could probably see it, hated that everyone watching could see it too.

Kael — I'd learn his name later, the beta who kept close to Malakar's shoulder with a face that showed obvious discomfort about the whole situation — leaned in and murmured something too low for me to catch. Whatever it was, Malakar didn't answer him. He just turned and started walking, and after a beat, when I hadn't moved, he glanced back.

"Well?"

I looked at my mother. Her jaw was tight, her eyes furious, but underneath the fury was something else, something that looked almost like fear. I didn't understand it and didn't have time to try. I looked at my father, who wouldn't meet my eyes at all. I looked at Veyla, near the back of the crowd, her face pale and unreadable in a way I'd never seen on her before.

Nobody said don't go. Nobody said stay.

So I walked. Because saying no to the man felt like I signed a death sentence. 

The crowd parted for us in a manner it hadn't parted for me an hour ago when I'd tried to leave on my own — No words were needed just wolves stepping back like proximity to the Vargulf Alpha might be contagious. I kept my eyes forward and my chin up because if I looked at any of their faces right now I thought I might finally break, and I'd promised myself, standing at that altar right after Ravion rejected me, that I wouldn't do that in front of them.

At the edge of the courtyard, just before the end of the center, I let myself look back. 

Everything I knew was standing in that courtyard, and none of it was coming with me.

Oh fuck, what was I doing?