“So,” my cousin Mirabel starts, knowing full well I’m not the right person to gossip with. “Since His Highness is nowhere to be found…”
I suppress a sigh. I haven't seen Elijah all evening, and even Gwendolyn disappeared shortly after the feast began. The thought shouldn't bother me, they've always been close, but something about the way she looked at him tonight...
“How are you doing?” I ask, redirecting.
She ignores me, because of course she does. Only loops her hand through mine to make sure I can’t run away.
“Oh, I’m just splendid,” she deflects masterfully. “And what about Gwen?”
I let her guide me toward the quieter edges of the celebration, where the crowd thins and the music becomes a distant pulse. "Is there a reason you ask me?"
The question itself makes me unexpectedly uncomfortable. Mirabel glances around, then lowers her voice.
"She’s just so… excited about Prince Elijah’s visit. She's been all over him for the past two days. Clinging to him. Laughing at everything he says, touching his arm every chance she gets. It's inappropriate, and honestly, she's making a spectacle of herself."
My wolf bristles defensively. "They've always been close. And she’s my sister, maybe—"
"This isn't the same, and you know it." Mirabel stops walking, turning to face me with serious eyes. "She's not acting like his future sister-in-law. And if you don't put that brat in her place soon, people are going to start talking."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Gwendolyn wouldn't—she's my sister. And Elijah hasn't seen either of us in six months because of royal matters. Maybe she just missed him. It's probably just innocent affection."
"Innocent?" Mirabel's laugh is sharp. "Coralina, your kindness is going to be your downfall. Not everything is innocent. Not everyone has your pure heart like yours."
The words sting, but I shake my head. "I know my sister. And I know Elijah. You're reading too much into it."
"I hope you're right,” Mirabel sighs, squeezing my arm. “I really do. But promise me you'll keep your eyes open?"
"I promise," I say, though the unease coiling in my gut tells me I'm lying to both of us.
She kisses my cheek and disappears back into the crowd, leaving me alone with thoughts I don't want to examine too closely.
I need to find Elijah. Need to see him, talk to him, remind myself why I'm marrying him in three days.
I plunge back into the festival crowd, scanning faces for golden hair and warm brown eyes. My betrothed. My future. Where the hell is he?
I'm so focused on searching that I don't see the solid wall of muscle until I collide with it. "I'm so sorry—"
Strong hands steady me, and when I look up, the world tilts.
Silver-grey eyes. Jet black hair. A scar bisecting his left eyebrow. Features so striking they make my breath catch. Sharp jawline, full mouth, the kind of face that artists spend lifetimes trying to capture.
"No harm done." His voice is deep, smooth, and it does something to my insides that shouldn't be possible. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. I'm fine… Thank you."
I should step back. Should apologize again and keep moving. But I can't make myself move, can't break eye contact with this stranger who feels achingly, impossibly familiar.
His lips curve into a slight smile. "You look like you're searching for someone."
"My fiancé. Prince Elijah." The words feel strange on my tongue. "Have you seen him?"
Something dark flickers through those silver eyes. "I'm afraid not." He pauses, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin heat. "But perhaps I can offer a distraction while you search?"
"I really should—"
"One moment." It's not quite a request. He gestures to a nearby stall displaying jewelry, and despite every instinct screaming at me to keep looking for Elijah, I follow.
We stop at the display, and he picks up a pendant—moonstone set in silver, catching firelight like captured starlight.
"This one," he says quietly. "It matches your eyes."
My breath catches. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." His fingers brush mine as he places it in my palm, and the touch sends electricity racing up my arm. "Consider it a blessing for your marriage. May you find all the happiness you deserve."
His thumb tracing the inside of my wrist before he releases me and the intimacy of the moment makes my breath catch. "Thank you. That's very kind of you.”
Heat floods my body. My wolf surges forward, and for one insane moment, I want to close the distance between us. Want to—
"Do I know you?" The question comes out breathless. "Your face seems familiar somehow."
"Just a guest at your wedding," he says, but something in his expression tells me he's lying. "First time on this land, actually."
Before I can press further, someone calls from the crowd. He inclines his head, and I catch the faintest smile.
"Enjoy your evening, Lady Coralina."
Then he's gone, melting into the festival crowd like smoke. Leaving me clutching the moonstone pendant and wondering why my heart is racing.
I shake off the strange encounter and resume my search for Elijah, eventually making my way into the packhouse approximately an hour later, after he was nowhere to be found on the feast.
The corridors are quieter here, most people are outside celebrating. I'm passing the guest wing when voices drift from an open doorway.
"Why do you even think she’s here?" one voice asks—male, slightly rough.
“Just… can’t you trust my judgement?” Another voice, smoother. “We’ve been looking for her for years. What’s the harm in checking here?”
Curiosity wins and I step closer to the slightly opened doorway and freeze.
Three men stand in quiet conversation. Two with dark auburn hair—the twins from dinner. And him. The stranger who gave me the moonstone.
‘My stranger,’ some traitorous part of my mind whispers.
I'm frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, when one of the twins turns as if sensing me in the doorway. His eyes lock with mine and the world seems to fracture.
Oh dear Goddess…
Recognition slams through me with the force of a physical blow.
Not a gentle one. Not a soft realization. This is brutal, primal, absolute. An invisible thread snaps taut between us, binding me to him with a certainty that bypasses logic entirely.
Mate. My wolf howls the word with savage joy.
Then the other twin turns. Green eyes identical to his brother's find mine, and another wave of sensation crashes through me. Just as powerful, just as undeniable.
Mates.
No. No, this isn't possible. Two true mates don't exist. It's not—
These faces. These men. The auburn-haired twins, the silver-eyed stranger—they're the ones from my dreams. Three months of erotic fantasies crystallize into devastating, impossible reality.
"My lady," Nathan breathes, his voice rough with recognition. With need.
Heat floods my body, pooling low in my belly. My wolf surges forward, pulling toward them with a force that terrifies me. His expression is primal, possessive, predatory, and something in me wants to meet it.
To surrender to whatever this inexplicable pull is. But terror overwhelms desire quicker and I run. My feet pound against the floors as I race through corridors, my heart hammering against my ribs.
This can't be real. They can't be real.
But I smelled them, saw them, felt that magnetic pull that's been haunting my sleeping hours for months.
Elijah. I need Elijah. He'll make this make sense. He'll ground me in reality.
His scent hits me—familiar, comforting like home—and I follow it desperately to a closed door. Relief floods through me as I reach for the handle.
The door swings open and there he is.
My beloved Elijah. My future husband. Tangled in rumpled sheets with golden hair spilled across pillows, his body curved around Gwendolyn. My dear little sister.
Her blue eyes meet mine over his shoulder, and there's no surprise in them. No shame. Just cold, glittering triumph as she smiles at me while Elijah moves above her.
“You really should learn to knock, Carolina,” she sing-songs sweetly.