Chapter 4

Elara Vance POV:

The next morning, I was in the communal dining hall before the sun had fully risen. I sat in the furthest corner, hoping to eat quickly and disappear before I had to face anyone. I hadn't slept, and the dark circles under my eyes were proof.

Moira found me anyway, setting her tray down across from me with a worried smile. "How's the knee, dear?"

"Much better," I lied, forcing a smile. "The Healer's salve worked wonders." I couldn't tell her Ryker had been the one to bring it, climbing through my window like a thief in the night. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. Deceiving her, the only mother I'd ever really known, was a constant, dull ache in my chest. It strengthened my resolve.

She didn't press, instead chattering happily about the wedding preparations, her words painting a picture of a beautiful future. Every syllable was a needle prick against my heart.

A wave of expensive floral perfume announced Seraphina's arrival. She glided towards our table, radiant in an elegant silk morning robe.

"Good morning, Moira. Elara," she said, her smile perfectly in place.

I shot to my feet. "Future Luna."

She placed a hand on my arm, a gesture that was meant to seem kind but felt like a brand. "Please, don't be so formal. We'll be family soon." Her icy eyes lingered on my face for a moment too long, searching.

She turned her full attention to me, her tone deceptively sweet. "Elara, I was hoping you might do me a favor."

My stomach plummeted. This was not a request.

"I'm going into town today to select my gown for the union ceremony," Seraphina explained. "I'm not familiar with the local artisans, and Moira has pack duties. I've heard you have the best artistic eye in the scholastics program. Would you accompany me? I would value your opinion."

It was a brilliant trap. A request from the future Luna, framed as a compliment, was impossible to refuse without causing a grave insult.

"What a wonderful idea!" Moira chimed in, oblivious. "You should spend more time with Seraphina, Elara."

Every instinct screamed at me to say no. To help another woman choose the dress she would wear to marry my fated mate was a form of psychological torture I couldn't imagine surviving. My wolf snarled in my head, protesting this public claim on her male.

But then I looked into Seraphina's eyes, saw the challenge glinting beneath the polite facade, and I understood. This was a test. A declaration of war. After last night's Mind-Link, she must have sensed something was wrong. She wanted to see how I would react.

Refusing would be an admission of guilt. Going would be hell.

Ryker's voice echoed in my mind. *The two are not in conflict.* I would show him just how much conflict there was.

I took a deep breath and met Seraphina's gaze, my own expression carefully neutral. "Of course. It would be my honor, future Luna."

The speed of my acceptance seemed to surprise her. A flicker of something-annoyance? respect?-crossed her face before it was gone.

"To be able to help you choose the gown for your and the Alpha's most important moment," I continued, my voice steady as I twisted the knife in my own heart, "I would be truly honored." The words were for her, but they were also for me. I would witness it. I would force myself to see it, to feel it, until every last shred of hope was dead.

Seraphina's smile widened, triumphant. "Excellent. Ryker will be joining us. He has some business in town as well."

That was the final blow. The floor seemed to drop out from under me.

He would be there. They would play the part of the happy, devoted couple, and I would be their audience.

My face must have gone pale, but I forced my features into a mask of placid obedience.

I nodded, my voice a distant echo of my own. "Understood. Is there anything I need to do to prepare?"

"No, just be comfortable," Seraphina said, her gaze sweeping over me with the satisfaction of a cat who has cornered a mouse. "Meet us at the entrance in half an hour." She turned and walked away, her silk robe whispering behind her.

Moira was still beaming, telling me what a good impression I would make. I stared down at the food on my plate, now a tasteless mush. I wasn't just going dress shopping.

I was going to my own love's funeral.