The courtyard was quiet, touched by late afternoon light, the soft breeze rustling through the trees like a whispered blessing. Most of the pack was busy with preparations—stringing lanterns between trees, finishing the flower arrangements, checking every last name on the guest list before the big day.
But Celine had carved out this moment just for them.
She sat on the low stone wall near the gardens, her legs tucked beneath her, watching as Leon approached. His steps were slow, unhurried, like he didn’t want the day to move any faster than it already had.
“Everything’s almost ready,” he said, sitting beside her. “One more day.”
Celine smiled faintly, her hands folded in her lap. “It doesn’t feel real yet.”
Leon leaned back on his palms, his gaze finding hers. “It feels overdue.”
They fell into silence for a while, comfortable and still. The kind of silence that didn’t ask to be filled.
“I’ve been thinking,” Celine said finally, voice soft. “About after the wedding. About what kind of Luna I want to be.”
Leon turned toward her fully. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, nerves fluttering in her chest. “I was a servant,” she said. “And I saw how they’re treated. The hours, the food, the way they’re spoken to—like they’re invisible. Like their work only matters when it goes wrong.”
Leon’s face was unreadable, but he said nothing, waiting.
“I want to change that,” Celine continued. “Proper rest hours. Fair wages. More paths for them to rise in the ranks if they choose. I want them to be seen.”
She looked at him, uncertain. “Will you… support me?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.
“I’ve been searching for a mate like you my whole life,” he said quietly. “Someone with fire. With vision. Someone who sees the people I’ve overlooked.”
Her breath caught.
“I don’t want a Luna who stays silent to keep things comfortable,” he added. “I want you. And I’ll stand behind every change you want to make—because you don’t just want power. You want to build something better.”
The tension in her shoulders melted. The nerves eased. Leon raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I want the wedding to be perfect—for you. And not for anyone else.”
Celine leaned against his shoulder, her heart full.
There was no fear. No doubt.
Only certainty.
One more day.
And then she would stand beside him—not just as his mate, but as his equal.