Arin
I closed the door behind me and exhaled the breath i had been holding since i left the courtyard. Thanks to the fact that i lacked a wolf so i could not heal myself, my palm still ached from the ceremonial cut, though a salve had been rubbed into the wound by one of the palace healers in silence, their eyes carefully avoiding mine the entire time.
The ceremonial chamber, lined with silver mirrors and moonlight-drenched windows, was too grand, too pristine for how i felt. A golden tub sat cold and unused near the hearth. my new robes—royal ones—lay prepared on a chaise: indigo velvet, high-necked, embroidered with the crest of the united packs.
A crownless queen, dressing for a celebration built on her humiliation.
The maids, young and anxious, fluttered around me like startled birds, unfastening the delicate clasps of her mating gown with trembling hands.
"I'll fetch the final set of hairpins," one whispered.
"The tiara needs adjusting," said another.
Then, without waiting for my approval, they slipped out of the chamber in search of what they needed, probably relieved to escape the silence pressing on them like snow.
The bridal chamber should be teeming with family and friends who were excited for my new beginning, but no one was willing to even pretend to be on my side. Plus, the probably feared offending Nova more than they wanted to ingratiate themselves with me.
So, I stood alone in my underdress, shoulders bare, back straight. The white silk pooled at my feet like spilled milk, stained faintly red from my blood.
I had still not cried. Not in the courtyard. Not while walking back to the palace beneath a thousand eyes.
Now, in the stillness, she allowed herself a single shudder.
And then the door opened.
Not a maid.
Not my father.
Nova.
I turned slowly, dread coiling like a snake in her stomach.
Nova shut the door behind her with delicate care, her steps deliberate as she moved through the room like a queen already crowned.
She was radiant. Dressed in deep navy silk that clung to her curves, her hair piled high while the sapphires that glinted in her circlet matched her eyes. She proudly wore Roan's colors.
Her smirk was gentle, but I recognized it for what it was. Once again, she was proven as the more superior of us.
"I came to congratulate you," Nova said softly, voice honeyed with mock concern. "The realm has never seen a mating ceremony quite like that. Truly unforgettable."
I said nothing. My silence had always been Nova's favorite canvas to paint cruelty upon.
Nova circled me, gaze drifting pointedly down to the bloodstain on Arin's discarded gown. "Such a shame about the kiss. But then, Roan's always had impeccable instincts, hasn't he? He doesn't fake what he doesn't feel."
My throat tightened, but i didn't flinch. I wouldn't give Nova the satisfaction.
"Oh, but don't look so wounded, sister daerest. Or should I say... Queen?" Nova laughed, musical and low. "I suppose that makes me your subject now. Isn't that delicious?"
My fists clenched at my sides.
Nova leaned in, her perfume sweet and cloying. "But you and I both know this is temporary. He'll do his duty—he has. The bond was forged, the politics are satisfied. But soon... he will come to me."
Her voice dropped, viciously tender. "He loves me, Arin. He always has. And when the dust settles, when the council stops pretending this wasn't a mistake, he'll make me his concubine. I'll bear the heir. The realm will rejoice that they have been spared another wolfless monstrosity."
She smiled wider. "And you'll remain the footnote—the wolfless queen in title only."
The blow landed with precision. Arin staggered back a step, barely able to breathe.
Nova's laugh was quieter now, almost pitying. "I always wondered if you actually believed you could win. You should have stayed in the North with your father where you belonged. Obscurity suits you better than a crown."
With that, she swept out of the room, leaving only the echo of her cruelty behind.
I stood rooted to the floor.
My hands trembled.
I had nothing to throw, no voice to scream with, no mother to turn to.
The ache bloomed wide and sudden in my chest at the thought of a mother's arms, a feeling i had never enjoyed as my mother had died in child birth and my father, loving though he may be, was too gruff to have the needed softness. And Usera only ever saw me as an inconvenience that came along with her new husband.
My lips parted as if to call for her, the way she used to as a lonely child in the dark.
But only silence answered.
After several long moments, the maids returned and i wondered if Nova had instructed them to leave me. I would have no doubt that was the case, Nova had an unwavering influence on the people around her, they submitted to her will without hesitation.
They finished their tasks in silence, draping me in the indigo robes that marked my station, adorning my hair with moonstones and twisted braids, painting my lips crimson.
They gave me a mask, too—a delicate silver half-mask to honor the old tradition of hiding the mate's expression on the night of celebration.
It felt ironic.
I wore it anyway.
When i entered the ballroom, the golden doors opened with an announcement:
"Her Majesty, Queen Arin of the Unified Realm."
Every eye turned to me.
The hall was a riot of color, laughter, music. Courtiers raised glasses. Dancers spun in circles like petals caught in wind. The tables overflowed with food and wine. Laughter rang high and sharp.
But all of it fell away when i saw them.
Roan and Nova.
Dancing.
Roan, who had not spared me a single word since the ceremony. Roan, whose hands now rested easily on Nova's waist, guiding her across the polished marble like they had done this a hundred times before.
And maybe they had.
I could see it in how they moved—familiar, fluid. Perfect harmony.
Nova's smile was radiant as she leaned close to whisper something in his ear.
Roan didn't smile back. But neither did he pull away.
The court watched them. Whispered. Wondered.
The queen had arrived. And the king was dancing with someone else.
I stood alone, her mask cold against her skin.
Somewhere behind her, a noble murmured, "Should we greet her?"
"Let her be. She looks like a ghost."
I wasn't a ghost.
Not yet.
But something inside me was dying.