Talia's POV The slap came out of nowhere. My cheek stung, my ear rang, and I stumbled back against the wall of the storage room with my hand flying to my face. I did not need a mirror to know a red mark was already blooming across my skin. They always bloomed fast on me, like bruises were the one thing my body did without being asked. Celeste stood in front of me, her hand still raised, her face twisted with fury. Blonde hair perfect. Pale blue gown flawless. But her eyes were wild, like a wolf that had been cornered by something smaller than itself. "Look what you did," she spat. I looked. I saw nothing. She pointed at her own chin, at a tiny red bump I would never have noticed if she had not shoved her jaw in my direction. "There's a pimple," she shrieked. "On the day the Alpha of Shadowfang arrives. You did this. It's all because of your ugliness and your bad luck. It has contaminated me." I did not say anything. I learned years ago that silence was safer than words, and cheaper than pride. "You think because the Alpha is coming, you can make yourself noticed?" "No." "Then why were you looking at me like that?" I lowered my gaze. It was the answer she expected, and the only one that usually ended the conversation before it became more expensive. In Cresswood, arguing could cost a person more than pride. A servant who spoke back might lose her supper, her blanket, or the right to sleep indoors. I had learned to weigh every sentence before allowing it past my teeth, because even an innocent answer could become an excuse for punishment in the hands of someone who wanted one. Celeste stepped closer. Her perfume was sweet and thick, with a faint floral note that seemed designed to cover the smell of something sour underneath. "Vivienne wants you in the kitchen before sunrise," she said. "You are not to leave unless someone orders you to. If the Alpha asks whether there are any other unmated women in this household, you will say no." My fingers tightened at my sides. I nodded. "Do you understand?" "Yes." Her lips curved. "Good. You are almost useful." She turned and walked out, leaving the storage-room door partly open behind her. The lock remained on the outside. I waited until her footsteps faded into the corridor before I let my shoulders loosen. My hands were trembling, and the skin beneath my cheek had already begun to swell. It would turn purple before nightfall, then yellow at the edges over the next few days, provided no one struck the same place again. I crossed the room and stood before the cracked mirror above the basin. The face looking back at me was the one Cresswood knew. My brown hair hung unevenly around my shoulders, dry from years of being washed with harsh soap and rarely brushed. My eyes appeared smaller than they were, my skin duller, and the narrow line of my jaw seemed to belong to someone older and more exhausted than twenty. I hated that face. Not because it was ugly, but because it was a lie I had been forced to wear for fifteen years. My fingers slipped beneath the collar of my dress and found the silver chain resting against my skin. The small stone hanging from it was smooth and cool, its surface almost black in the weak morning light. My mother had tied the chain around my neck fifteen years ago. I had been five years old. The house had been burning when she found me. Smoke filled the hallways, flames climbed the curtains, and the heat had grown so fierce that I could barely keep my eyes open. She knelt in front of me with ash across her face and blood running from a cut above her eyebrow. "Never remove the glamour charm before your twentieth birthday," she had whispered. Her hands had shaken as she fastened the chain. "Wear it, and they will not see you. Keep wearing it, and they will not hurt you." Then she had pushed me toward the back door and turned toward the flames. I had never seen her again. Everyone in Cresswood said she died in the fire. They said I had caused it, although no one had ever explained how a five-year-old child could have set fire to an entire house. They called me cursed, said my mother had sacrificed herself because she could no longer bear to look at me, and treated every misfortune that followed as proof that they had been right. They were wrong about the fire. They were wrong about my mother. I could feel it, even after fifteen years of silence, in the stubborn part of me that had refused to let her become a memory. She was somewhere beyond Cresswood, and if she was alive, I would find her. Three years after the fire, I learned my mother's name. I was eight. It was winter, and I had been sent to scrub the pots until the kitchen fires died. When I finished, I did not go back to the storage room. I went where I always went-the narrow passage behind the dining hall, where the wall was thin and the voices came through. Vivienne was inside. So was Celeste. I could hear the clink of glass and the low crackle of the hearth. "Say it again," Celeste said. "The name." "Ashford." Vivienne's voice was flat and uninterested, the way she spoke when she was already bored of a thing. "Seraphina Ashford. That was the woman's name before she married your father." "Was she anyone?" Celeste's voice sounded. "She was no one. A girl from a minor house with a pretty face and no fortune. She died in that fire three winters ago and did us all a favor." "And the girl?" Celeste had asked. A pause. I remember the pause more clearly than anything else in the room. It was the kind of silence that has a smile inside it. "The girl keeps trying to answer to Cress," Vivienne said. "She will not. Not one of Edmund's daughters will carry that name unless I say so. Whatever comes to this house-the titles, the gold, the standing-all of it belongs to you, Celeste. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mother." Celeste replied. "Say it back to me." "Whatever comes to this house is mine." "Good girl." I did not move for a long time after that. I had spent three years being told I was cursed, ugly, a burden, an accident that should have died with its mother. None of it had ever touched the thing that mattered most. They could take my food. They could take my blankets. They could lock me in a room with no windows and call me whatever they liked. But there was one thing I had that Vivienne had not known about. I had my mother's name. Seraphina Ashford. A girl from a minor house with a pretty face and no fortune. I said it to myself that night, over and over, until it was the only thing in my head. Not to spite Vivienne. Not to spite Celeste. Just to have something of my own that they could not take, because they did not know it mattered. The next morning, when Marta asked me for my name to put in the kitchen ledger, I said it out loud for the first time. "Talia Ashford." She wrote it down without looking up. She never questioned it. No one ever did. I had been Talia Ashford for twelve years. But it started that night, in a dark passage, with a name I was not supposed to hear. Two days remained until my twentieth birthday. I would reach it. I would leave Cresswood. Then I would find out what had happened to my mother. A soft knock sounded at the door. It was not Celeste's fist, nor the impatient pounding of a servant who expected immediate obedience. Whoever stood outside had tapped three times, carefully and quietly. I knew that knock. I opened the door just wide enough for Piper Holloway to slip inside, then shut it behind her. Her hair was loose, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing as though she had crossed the entire estate without stopping. "You will not believe what I heard," she whispered. I glanced at my reflection in the cracked mirror. "You should be looking at my cheek instead." Piper's expression tightened. "Celeste struck you again." "She was upset." "That does not make it acceptable." "It makes it predictable." Piper moved closer, lowering her voice even though there was no one on the other side of the door. "The Alpha of Shadowfang is coming to Cresswood." I turned toward her. "Why?" "To choose a mate. Vivienne is presenting Celeste to him, and everyone in the household has been talking about it since midnight." "I do not care about Celeste's presentation." "You should care about the Alpha." "I have more urgent problems." Piper glanced toward the silver chain hidden beneath my collar. She was the only person in Cresswood who knew what the charm concealed, and even she had never seen my real face. "You have two days left," she said. "I know." "Then perhaps this is not a coincidence." I looked toward the small window near the ceiling. Dawn had begun to lighten the gray sky, and the first servants were already moving through the outer courtyard. "What do you mean?" "Something has been wrong since the Shadowfang envoys arrived." She folded her arms tightly across her chest. "The guards have been doubling the patrols, and Marta told the kitchen staff not to speak to anyone from the visiting pack. Even Vivienne has been frightened." "Vivienne is frightened of losing control, not of the Alpha." "Those may be the same thing today." I wanted to dismiss her, but the warmth beneath my collar made it difficult. Piper caught my hands. "Be careful, Talia. Whatever Vivienne is planning, she does not want you near the main hall." "She never wants me near the main hall." "This time she ordered the servants to deny that you exist." That made me look at her. Piper's face had lost its color. Before I could ask what she meant, footsteps sounded in the corridor. She released me and moved toward the back wall, where a narrow service door opened into the old laundry passage. "Go," I whispered. She slipped through the door just as the outer lock turned. Marta entered without knocking. Her eyes moved from me to the service door and back again, although she did not comment on what she had seen. "You are late for the kitchen." "I was-" "Do not explain. Come with me." She turned before I could finish and walked away. I followed because refusing would only delay the punishment, but Piper's warning stayed with me as I crossed the corridor. And beneath my dress, my mother's charm had begun to warm against my skin. For the first time in fifteen years, I wondered whether my mother had known this day would come.

Talia's POV By the time the sun rose above the eastern wall, my hands were already raw. I stood at the kitchen basin, scrubbing a copper pot larger than my torso as cooks hurried past with trays, baskets, and covered dishes. The whole estate was preparing for the Alpha's arrival. People who had never noticed the cracked walls or cared how thin our winter blankets were had suddenly developed a taste for perfection. The kitchen smelled of onions, roasting meat, and wet ash. Steam clouded the windows, and each time I rinsed my cloth, the water turned a deeper gray. No one thanked me, but that was nothing new. What unsettled me was the way conversations broke off whenever someone entered. The first whisper came from behind a stack of wooden crates. "The bonding stone did not react to Celeste." "It did not react to anyone," another servant answered. "The Alpha demanded that every unmated woman be brought before it." A spoon clattered to the floor, followed by a muttered prayer. I kept scrubbing, though the cloth was beginning to slip between my fingers. A bonding stone was not supposed to fail. It was older than the packs that claimed it, older than most of the laws governing marriage and succession. The stories said the Moon Goddess had placed the first beneath the northern mountains, and every stone made afterward held a fragment of its power. If it did not react to Celeste, there would be no wedding alliance between Cresswood and Shadowfang. Vivienne would be furious. Kira, one of the younger servants, passed behind me with a tray of empty cups. She leaned close, her sleeve brushing mine. "They say Alpha Kaelen threw a chair through the west wall." I glanced at her. "Why?" "Because the stone stayed dark for every woman in the household. Even Celeste." Her eyes widened as she looked toward the kitchen entrance. "They are bringing everyone to the hall now." "Everyone?" I asked quietly. "Every woman old enough to be considered unmated." The cloth went still in my hand. Kira noticed. "You are old enough," she whispered. Before I could answer, Marta entered. She was broad-shouldered, with iron-gray hair and a crease between her brows that never seemed to ease. In fifteen years, I had not once seen her smile, though she sometimes looked almost sorry when my knuckles split in winter. Her gaze swept the kitchen and settled on me. "You. Come with me." I set down the pot. "Me?" The question escaped before I could swallow it, and several servants turned. Marta's brows rose, but she did not waste time reprimanding me. "The Alpha wants to see every unmated woman in the household." "I am not part of the ceremony." "That is not your decision." She crossed the kitchen and took my arm. Her grip did not hurt, but it was firm enough to tell me she would tighten it if I resisted. I followed her out. The corridor beyond the kitchen was unfamiliar. Portraits of dead Alphas and Lunas lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow us beneath the flickering lamps. Most of my life had been confined to servants' quarters, kitchens, and storage rooms. With every step into the main wing, I felt as though I were crossing a boundary no one had ever needed to mark. Marta opened a narrow door and handed me a gray dress. "Change." I looked down at it. "Why am I being taken to the hall?" "The ceremony was interrupted. Celeste is not his mate, and no one else has been chosen." "That still does not explain why I am here." Marta hesitated. The pause was brief, but I noticed. "Vivienne told the elders there were no other unmated women in the household." "Then why am I being brought forward?" "Because one of the kitchen girls mentioned a woman who had been kept in the storage wing for years." I faltered. Marta's expression tightened. "The elders demanded to know who she was. Vivienne could not deny your existence without making herself look guilty, so she ordered us to bring you before the stone." I changed as quickly as I could. The gray dress hung loose across my shoulders, and its hem was too long, but at least it was cleaner than what I had worn in the kitchen. I tucked the charm beneath the collar, checked that the chain lay flat against my skin, and followed Marta into the corridor. The main hall was crowded. Beneath the crystal chandeliers, wolves in formal clothes spoke in low, tense voices. Too many scents crowded the air: expensive perfume, polished leather, warm bodies, and the faint metallic edge of fear. Conversation thinned as Marta led me inside. A few heads turned, then more. "Who is she?" "Is that Edmund's daughter?" "I thought Celeste was the only daughter." "She looks like a servant." "She is a servant." I kept my eyes lowered. It was not shame. Looking directly at powerful people gave them an opportunity to decide I was challenging them. Marta guided me through the crowd toward a black marble pedestal at the far end of the hall. A round stone rested on it, dark and smooth in the torchlight. Its surface looked empty, yet the skin along my arms tightened at the sight of it. The bonding stone. Beside it stood the Alpha of Shadowfang. Kaelen Frost was taller than every wolf around him, his shoulders broad beneath a black suit. He stood so still that everyone moving nearby seemed nervous by comparison. His dark hair was brushed back from his face, leaving his sharp jaw unobscured and his eyes-steel beneath winter ice-clear to see. He looked toward me. Something pulled inside my chest. The elder beside the stone raised a hand. "Talia Ashford," he called. "Come forward." The hall seemed to lengthen with every step I took across it. I stopped before the pedestal. For a moment, the stone stayed dark. Then a pale blue light appeared beneath its surface.

Talia's POV The glow grew stronger, spreading through the stone like moonlight beneath frozen water. It lit the elder's robes, the polished marble, and the stunned faces around us. Someone gasped near the entrance; another wolf whispered a prayer. The elder bent over the stone as though an explanation might be hidden beneath its surface. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. At last, he straightened. "Alpha Kaelen," he said, his voice unsteady. "This woman is already bonded to you." Kaelen turned to him. "Already?" The elder swallowed. "The bond was recorded two years ago." The world seemed to tilt. Two years ago, I had been eighteen, living in Cresswood, sleeping behind a locked door and working in the kitchens whenever Vivienne needed another pair of hands. I had never left the territory, attended a ceremony, or seen the man standing before me. "How is that possible?" I asked. Kaelen's attention shifted to me. His expression remained composed, but something had changed in his eyes. Not recognition. If anything, I saw a trace of the confusion I felt. "Where were you two years ago?" He was asking me, not the elder. I gripped the edge of my dress. "Here. In Cresswood." "Did you leave the territory?" "No." "Did you meet anyone from Shadowfang?" "Not that I know of." His jaw tightened. "Were you taken anywhere without your knowledge?" I thought of the root cellar, the storage wing, and the days when fever had left me too weak to remember being moved from one room to another. But none of those blurred memories held a ceremony, a journey, or an encounter with an Alpha. "No," I said. "I would remember." The elder raised his voice to carry through the hall. "The bond is recognized, but the Luna title is not automatic. The bonded woman must complete three Luna Trials within one year." Whispers swept through the room. Celeste pushed forward. "She cannot be Luna." The elder continued as though she had not spoken. "Until the trials are completed, the council may recognize the bond while withholding full authority from the woman claiming the title." "One year?" I asked. He nodded. "Three trials. Each will test a different part of the woman who seeks to stand beside the Alpha." The announcement frightened me, but it also gave my fear a shape. A trial could be studied, a rule understood, a deadline measured. Cresswood's hatred had never given me anything I could fight. This did. "This is a mistake!" Celeste's voice rang through the hall. "She is nobody!" Vivienne caught her arm, but Celeste tore free. "She has lived in a storage room for fifteen years. She cannot be a Luna. She is uneducated, filthy, and cursed." The elder lifted his staff. "The wedding ceremony will take place tonight." Celeste stared at him as though he had personally betrayed her. Beside her, Vivienne's expression went carefully blank, though her fingers remained clenched in the folds of her gown. My father stood near the back of the hall, silent as ever. Celeste stepped forward again. "This bitch is playing some kind of trick." "Watch your mouth, Lady Celeste." Kaelen's voice rose. "This woman is to be my Luna." "How could you choose her over me?" Celeste nearly screamed. His eyes passed over her once, cool and assessing. "If I must choose between a quiet woman who answers plainly and one who turns every disappointment into a public spectacle, the choice is hardly difficult." The hall fell silent. My pulse stumbled. I had never heard an Alpha speak against Celeste on my behalf. Her face twisted with fury, and she lunged at me. Her hand caught my sleeve, her fingers closing around the fabric near my shoulder. "You will not stand there and pretend to be innocent." Kaelen stepped between us before the fabric could tear. Celeste tried to stop, but her heel caught the edge of the marble platform. She twisted, stumbled backward into a ceremonial table, and hit the polished floor hard. A silver tray toppled after her. Its contents scattered across the marble, and a dark red drink splashed down the front of her pale blue gown. For a suspended moment, she lay beneath the eyes of the entire pack, bearing the humiliation she had intended for me. Kaelen looked down at her. "Stand up." Her face burned. "She pushed me." "I saw what happened." "You are lying for her." "We all know who is lying." His gaze swept the hall. "Whatever she was before, Talia is my bonded partner now. No one is to lay a disrespectful hand on her." Celeste pushed herself upright. "She is not your Luna yet." He looked at me. "But she is the woman the stone chose." Then he turned to Aldric, who stood near the entrance. "Clear the west receiving room." Aldric bowed. "At once." Kaelen's attention returned to me. "Come with me." This time, he did not reach for my hand. I followed him out, conscious of every gaze on my back and the murmurs that rose again as soon as the doors closed behind us.