I let him help me up, legs unsteady, and we walked in silence. The festival sounds drift on the wind, cruel contrast to the devastation carving through my chest.
"I can explain, really," I say suddenly, the words tumbling out. "About what you saw. In the gazebo."
"You don't owe me explanations, my lady."
"I found my betrothed with my sister. In bed. Together." The words come in broken pieces. "And then I ran into those lords, the twins, and they... I let them..."
My voice cracks. "Goddess, you must think I'm pathetic. My fiancé betrays me and I fall into the arms of the first men who show me kindness."
We walk in silence for a moment before I speak again, quieter now.
"I'm sorry you saw that," I finally say, shame heating my cheeks. "What lords and I… I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you." His voice is firm, but I catch something else beneath it—an intensity that makes me look up at him.
His jaw is tight, his silver eyes burning with something that looks almost like rage, though his touch remains gentle.
"You're not responsible for other people's betrayals. And what you feel isn't wrong either. It's just... complicated."
"How would you know what I feel?" The words come out sharp.
He doesn’t answer. Instead his gaze drops to my collarbone, visible where my dress has slipped. His expression shifts, sharpens.
"That scar," he says quietly, reaching toward it but stopping just short of touching. "May I?"
The previous version of me would've maintained some shred of propriety. But I nod, and his fingers brush the crescent-shaped mark just below my collarbone with a gentleness that steals my breath.
The touch ignites something deep inside me. The same electric pull I felt with the twins, but different. Older somehow. More fundamental.
My wolf rises to meet it, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
"Where did you get this?" His voice is rougher now, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of the scar.
I force myself to step back, to break the contact before I do something reckless.
Again.
"I've had it my whole life," I manage, wrapping my arms around myself. "My mentor said it could be a blessing from the Moon Goddess. A mark of her favor." I laugh, but it sounds hollow. "Though I'm not feeling blessed right now…"
His hand drops, but his eyes remain on the scar, on me, with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
"Sometimes blessings look like curses until we understand them," he says softly. "And sometimes the Moon Goddess knows what we need long before we do."
I keep silent for a bit, trying to make his words ring true in my head. Then I ask, finally.
“What’s your name? I think it’s about time you told me,” I try carefully.
“Ryder,” he smiles, offers his arm again, and I take it, letting him guide me back toward my room where my shattered life awaits. “You can call me Ryder.”
The name sounds painfully familiar, but before I can connect the dots, we’ve already arrived.
“Good night, Coralina. I wish you pleasant dreams.”
Oh, if only he knew…
***
When dawn slips through my curtains and, for a breath, I forget.
Then it hits—Elijah with Gwendolyn, her triumphant smile, his hand on her skin—and bile rises. Yet under the ruin hums last night: Nathan’s thumb at my cheek, Luca’s nose at my throat, a stranger’s fingers tracing my scar.
Three kindnesses my family’s never offered. Heat flares; shame nips at its heels.
I dress like armor and head to breakfast. They expect me to be silent. They’re about to learn otherwise. Gwendolyn glows while I feel scraped from a boot.
"Good morning, Coralina," Mother says, her tone already disapproving as she takes in my appearance. "You look dreadful. Didn't you sleep?"
"No." I remain standing, hands clenched at my sides. "I was too busy processing what I witnessed last night."
Father's fork pauses midway to his mouth. "Sit down and eat."
"I will not." My voice is steady despite the trembling in my hands. "I'm here to inform you that the wedding must be cancelled immediately. I caught Elijah in bed with Gwendolyn."
The words hang in the air.
I wait for the explosion, for their fury to rain down on my sister. Instead, Gwendolyn smiles. Actually smiles, sweet and poisonous as nightshades.
"Oh, Coralina." She tilts her head, voice dripping with false sympathy. "Were you really that surprised? I mean, surely you felt how distant Elijah was lately. How he could barely stand to look at you."
"Gwen…" I start, but she's not finished.
"The Moon Goddess blessed our union, sister dear."
She pulls down the collar of her dress, revealing an unmistakable fresh bite mark on her neck. Mating bite mark.
"Elijah recognized me as his true mate two nights ago. He said I was everything you could never be—passionate, uninhibited, alive. Said being with you was like bedding a beautiful statue. Cold. Unresponsive."
The words hit like physical blows, but I keep my gaze on my parents. Waiting for them to intervene, to defend me, to show even a shred of outrage at what Gwendolyn has done.
Mother's expression remains carefully neutral when Father sets down his fork with deliberate precision. "Is this true?" he asks.
For a heartbeat, I think he's asking Gwendolyn. Then I realize he's looking at me.
"Is what true?" Disbelief makes my voice sharp. "That I caught them together? Yes. That she seduced my fiancé? Obviously. That—"
"That you failed to keep your betrothed satisfied," Father interrupts, and the casual cruelty in his tone makes me flinch. "That you were so inadequate as a mate that the prince sought comfort elsewhere."
"I didn't…" The words die in my throat as Mother stands.
"You had one job, Coralina." Her voice is ice. "One simple task. Marry the prince. Secure our alliance. Elevate this pack's standing. And you couldn't even manage that."
"She seduced him!" The accusation bursts from me, desperate and raw. "Gwendolyn deliberately—"
Mother's hand cracks across my face with enough force to snap my head sideways. Pain explodes across my cheek, sharp and bright, that I can taste blood where my teeth cut into the inside of my mouth.
"Don't you dare blame your sister for your inadequacies," Mother hisses. "If you'd been a proper mate, if you'd satisfied him, he never would have looked elsewhere. This is your failure, not hers."
I press my hand to my burning cheek, staring at her in shock. My wolf snarls, wanting to fight back, but I force her down. I won't give them the satisfaction.
"Since you've failed in your duty, we'll simply adjust our arrangements. Gwendolyn was meant to be sent to the king's harem after your wedding. Now she'll marry Prince Elijah instead, and you…”
Father says it as calmly as if discussing the weather. I feel myself growing colder as he sizes me with his gaze during the silence.
“You'll take her place. After their ceremony, you'll be sent to the capital to serve the Lycan King in whatever capacity he requires."
The words don't make sense at first. Then they sink in, and the room tilts.
"No." It comes out as barely a whisper. "No, I won't—"
"You will." Father's voice cuts through my protest like a blade. "You'll fulfill your duty to this pack, Coralina. We've arranged it with the prince. The king expects a daughter from our pack, and a daughter he'll receive. It matters little which one."
"I've done nothing wrong!" My voice breaks on the words. "I'm not the one who betrayed anyone. I'm not the one who—"
"You lost your betrothed to your younger sister," Father says, standing now.
His presence looms over me, and I instinctively step back.
"That alone proves your inadequacy. You should be grateful we're giving you another purpose instead of casting you out as a rogue. Many fathers would show far less mercy."
Gwendolyn watches with barely concealed glee, her fingers tracing the mate mark on her neck. Mother's expression is carved from stone, showing not even a flicker of maternal concern.
"This is insane," I breathe. "You can't just—"
"We can, and we will." Father's tone brooks no argument. "You have three days until Gwendolyn's wedding. You'll attend the ceremony, smile for our guests, and then you'll leave for the capital immediately after."