I gave him a thin smile. “Nothing,” I lied, voice smooth as glass. “But you’ll be accompanying me to the fashion gala tomorrow. Elowen will be there.”
A faint twitch rippled through him at her name. Barely visible—but I saw it. I always did.
The next night, he waited for me at the base of the stairs, dressed in black trimmed with silver. Hair neat, posture rigid, eyes unreadable.
For the first time in years, I walked past him without a word.
His expression faltered—just slightly—but I caught the flicker.
The drive was silent. Suffocating. The air thick with everything we didn’t say. My wolf prowled inside me, restless, furious. But I kept my face still.
When we arrived at the Limited Edition Fashion Gala, every head turned.
I entered not just as Lyra Solari—daughter of the Solari line—but as the betrothed Luna of the Dravenwood Pack. They didn’t know yet, but soon they would. Even if my future husband lay cursed in eternal sleep, I’d walk as his equal.
Then she arrived.
Elowen. Glowing in pale silk, her smile syrup-sweet and calculated. She approached with a tinkling laugh. “Sister,” she greeted.
I turned sharply, voice cold enough to frost the air. “Don’t call me that.”