Emberlyn had been awake since before dawn. She stood in the cold kitchen of Moonfall Castle with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, scrubbing the last of the silver platters for the evening feast. Her hands were red and raw from the hot water, but she did not stop. She never stopped. A servant who stopped was a servant who got noticed, and being noticed in this castle was rarely a good thing. "Sera!" Marta, the head cook, snapped her fingers from across the room. "The Moon Ceremony begins at sunset. You have exactly one hour to wash, dress, and get yourself to the courtyard." Sera looked up in surprise. "Me? But I thought the servants weren't allowed to attend." "Any girl who turns eighteen this year must attend. Those are the king's orders." Marta's stern face softened for a moment. "And today is your birthday, isn't it?" Sera's cheeks warmed. She had not expected anyone to remember. "Yes. It is." "Then go. Quickly now, before I change my mind and put you back to work." Sera laughed, dried her hands on her apron, and ran. The servants' quarters were small and plain, but Sera had made her corner of the room into something that felt like home. A tiny window looked out over the forest. A faded blue blanket covered her narrow bed. On the shelf above it sat a small wooden bird that her mother had carved before she died. Sera touched the bird gently, as she did every morning. "Today is the day," she whispered. "Wish me luck." She washed her face and brushed out her long, dark red hair until it fell in soft waves down her back. Her only good dress was a simple cream gown she had mended so many times that the stitches had become a pattern of their own. It was not beautiful, but it was clean. She studied herself in the cracked mirror. She did not have the beauty of the noble ladies. She had no jewels and no title. Worst of all, she had no wolf. Every person in Moonfall Kingdom heard the voice of their wolf by the age of sixteen. Sera had heard nothing. Only silence. The other servants whispered about it behind her back. Wolfless, they called her. Cursed. Empty. But tonight, the Moon Goddess would name each girl's destined mate, and perhaps, just perhaps, the Goddess would also give Sera a reason to hope. "Please," she whispered to the pale evening sky. "I only want to belong somewhere." The sky did not answer. She picked up her skirts and hurried down the stairs. The castle courtyard glowed with a thousand lanterns. Silver banners hung from every balcony, and the whole kingdom seemed to have gathered beneath them. Nobles in velvet and jewels stood near the front. Merchants and farmers crowded behind them. People of every rank filled the air with low, restless murmurs. At the very center stood the Moon Stone, a tall pillar of pale crystal that would shine when the Goddess spoke. Sera slipped quietly to the edge of the crowd, where the other eighteen-year-old girls had gathered in a nervous line. Most of them wore silk. Some wore jewels in their hair. A few glanced at Sera's plain dress and turned away, whispering behind their hands. She lifted her chin and ignored them. On a raised platform above the courtyard sat the royal family. King Alaric Draven, tall and silver-haired, watched the crowd with sharp, unreadable eyes. Beside him sat Queen Elowen, pale and quiet. And standing at the king's right hand was the Crown Prince. Sera's breath caught. She had seen Kaelen Draven only from a distance, always from across a hall or down a long corridor. Even so, she had never forgotten him. He was twenty-two years old, broad-shouldered and straight-backed, with black hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore his crown and his title as though they were part of his skin. It was said that he had never smiled in public. He was looking at the Moon Stone, not at the crowd. His jaw was tight. Beside the platform stood a young woman in a gown of deep sapphire blue. Lady Lyra Voss, the daughter of the kingdom's most powerful lord, was beautiful in the way a polished blade is beautiful. Her golden hair was pinned up with silver combs, and she was watching the prince with a faint, confident smile. The whole kingdom knew what she hoped for. The whole kingdom knew her father had been planning it for years. Sera looked away quickly. That has nothing to do with me, she told herself. A gong sounded, and the crowd fell silent. Elder Moriah stepped forward, leaning on her carved staff. She was the oldest seer in the kingdom, with white hair and eyes the color of milk. Many people said she could see things that had not happened yet. For a moment, her clouded eyes turned toward Sera. Sera felt a shiver run through her, though she could not say why. The old woman's lips moved as if she were speaking to herself. Then she raised her staff. "Tonight," Moriah called in a voice that carried across the whole courtyard, "the Moon Goddess blesses her children. Those who have reached their eighteenth year will step forward, and she will reveal the one fated to walk beside them." One by one, the girls approached the Moon Stone. The first girl, a baker's daughter, laid her hand on the crystal. It glowed soft white, and a young man in the crowd gasped and stepped forward with tears in his eyes. The crowd cheered. The second girl's mate was a blacksmith's son. The third's was a young soldier. Sera's heart pounded harder with every name. The line grew shorter. Her palms grew damp. She felt the eyes of the crowd on her back like small, cold needles. "Seraphine Emberlyn," Elder Moriah called at last. A ripple of whispers ran through the courtyard. "The wolfless girl?" "The kitchen maid?" "Why would the Goddess bother?" Sera swallowed hard and walked forward. Every step felt like walking through deep water. When she reached the Moon Stone, Elder Moriah gave her a long, strange look. "Child," the old woman murmured, so softly that only Sera could hear, "whatever happens tonight, remember this. You are not what they say you are." Sera blinked. "I don't understand." "You will." Moriah nodded at the crystal. "Place your hand." With a trembling breath, Sera pressed her palm against the cool stone. For one long second, nothing happened. Then the crystal flared with a blinding light, so bright and so sudden that the crowd cried out and shielded their eyes. Gold and white and a deep, burning red swirled together inside the stone. The ground seemed to hum beneath Sera's feet. She had never seen the Moon Stone shine like that. Judging by the shocked faces around her, no one else had either. The courtyard went utterly silent. And then a voice, soft as silk and ancient as the moon itself, whispered through the night. Your mate is born of the crown. Sera's heart stopped. The Alpha heir of Moonfall. Kaelen Draven. A gasp tore through the crowd like wind through dry leaves. Heads turned. Hundreds of eyes swung toward the platform. Sera stood frozen, her hand still pressed to the glowing stone. Kaelen? Her mate was the Crown Prince? It was not possible. It had to be a mistake. But deep in her chest, something warm and bright began to stir, like a candle being lit in a long-empty room. For the very first time in her life, she felt it. The bond. She turned slowly and looked up at the platform. Kaelen Draven had gone completely still. His storm-gray eyes were fixed on her, and for a single moment, she saw something raw and startled flash across his face. His lips parted. His hand curled tightly around the arm of his chair. Sera gave a small, trembling smile full of hope. He feels it too, she thought. He must. Beside the platform, Lady Lyra's confident smile had vanished. Her face had gone white, and her fingers were gripping her sapphire skirts so hard that her knuckles showed. King Alaric leaned toward his son and whispered something in his ear. Kaelen did not look away from Sera, but a muscle moved in his jaw. The startled light in his eyes slowly cooled, hardened, and went out. Sera's smile faltered. The courtyard held its breath. Then, slowly, deliberately, the Crown Prince of Moonfall rose to his feet.

The Crown Prince walked down the steps of the platform one slow step at a time. The crowd parted for him without a word. Nobles drew back. Guards bowed their heads. The only sound in the courtyard was the soft ring of his boots on the stone. Sera could not move. Her hand had fallen from the Moon Stone, and the light inside it was fading, but the warmth in her chest was growing stronger with every step he took. It felt like a thread pulling gently from her heart to his. He stopped three paces away from her. Up close, he was even taller than she had imagined. His eyes were gray and cold, and they moved over her plain cream dress, her mended sleeves, and her red, raw hands. She saw his gaze pause on those hands for a moment. Then it lifted to her face. Sera tried to speak. Her voice came out as a whisper. "Your Highness, I..." "Do not speak." The words were quiet, but they cut like a knife. Sera closed her mouth. Kaelen turned to face the crowd. When he spoke, his voice rang out across the courtyard, clear and steady. "The Moon Goddess has named this girl as my mate. I have heard her words, and so have you." A murmur ran through the crowd. Sera's heart beat so hard that it hurt. "But I will not accept her." The courtyard went still. Sera felt as if the ground had dropped away beneath her feet. No, she thought. He must be confused. He must not understand. Kaelen turned back and looked directly at her. His face was like carved stone. "I am the future king of Moonfall. My queen must be strong. She must have a wolf, a bloodline, and the respect of this kingdom." He paused. "You have none of these things. You are a wolfless servant, and you are not worthy to stand beside the throne." Someone in the crowd gasped. Someone else laughed, quietly and cruelly. Sera's eyes burned. "Please," she whispered. "The Goddess chose me. Surely that means something." For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes. It looked like pain, or perhaps doubt. His hand twitched at his side, as though he wanted to reach for her. Then, on the platform behind him, King Alaric cleared his throat. The flicker vanished. "I, Kaelen Draven, Alpha heir of Moonfall," the prince said, in a voice as cold as winter, "reject you, Seraphine Emberlyn, as my mate." The words struck her like a blow. Sera gasped and pressed her hand to her chest. It felt as though something inside her had been torn in half. The warm thread that had just begun to glow was ripped apart, and the pain that followed was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was sharp and deep, and it spread through her ribs, her arms, and her legs until she could hardly breathe. Her knees gave way, and she fell to the stone. The courtyard blurred through her tears. She heard voices, but they sounded far away. "Poor thing. What did she expect?" "A kitchen maid, mated to the prince? The Goddess must have been jesting." "At least the prince has sense." Sera lowered her head so that no one could see her face. Her whole body was shaking. Do not cry, she told herself. Do not cry in front of them. But the tears fell anyway and darkened the stone beneath her hands. Through the haze, she saw a pair of blue silk shoes stop in front of her. Lady Lyra Voss stood there, looking down. Sera expected to see a triumphant smile. Instead, she saw a face that was pale and tense. Lyra's lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes moved from Sera to the prince and back again, as if she did not know what to think. "Your Highness," Lyra said at last, in a careful voice. "Is this truly your decision?" "It is," Kaelen said, without looking at her. "Then..." Lyra drew a slow breath. "Then I will stand with you." She lifted her skirts and walked to his side. A few of the nobles clapped, politely at first and then more loudly. The sound spread through the crowd until the courtyard rang with it. Sera knelt on the ground, listening to the people applaud her heartbreak. Something touched her shoulder. She looked up, blinking, and found Elder Moriah standing beside her. The old seer's clouded eyes were wet, and her thin hand was trembling on Sera's arm. "Get up, child," Moriah whispered. "I can't," Sera said, and her voice broke. "It hurts. It hurts so much." "I know." The old woman leaned closer. "But you must stand. Do not let them see you crawl." Sera looked at her for a long moment. Then, slowly and painfully, she pushed herself up. Her legs shook, and her dress was stained with dust, but she stood. The crowd was still murmuring, but the sound seemed to come from very far away. Sera lifted her eyes and looked at the Crown Prince one last time. He was staring straight ahead. He did not look at her. But his fists were clenched at his sides, and his shoulders were rigid, as if he were holding himself up by force. A thin line of sweat shone on his forehead. If Sera had been less hurt, she might have wondered why. "Is that all, Your Highness?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse, but it did not shake. "Have you finished?" Kaelen's jaw tightened. He said nothing. "Then I accept your rejection," Sera said softly. She did not know where the words came from. They rose up from somewhere deep inside her, quiet and steady. The moment she spoke them, a strange shiver ran through her whole body. On the platform, King Alaric's eyes narrowed. For the first time that evening, the king looked uneasy. Kaelen flinched, as though he had been struck. A low, pained sound escaped him, and he pressed one hand to his chest. Sera did not notice. She had turned away, and she was walking through the crowd with her head held high and her tears running freely down her face. People stepped aside to let her pass. No one spoke to her. She was almost at the edge of the courtyard when she felt it. A small, bright heat was growing in the center of her chest, right where the bond had been torn away. At first it felt like a spark. Then it felt like a coal. Then, with every heartbeat, it grew hotter and brighter, spreading through her veins like liquid fire. Sera stopped walking. She looked down at her hands. A faint golden light was glowing beneath her skin.

Sera ran. She did not decide to run. Her legs simply began to move, as if her body understood something that her mind did not. She pushed through the edge of the crowd, slipped past the guards at the side gate, and disappeared into the dark. Behind her, the sounds of the courtyard slowly faded. The clapping, the whispers, and the cruel laughter became a faint murmur on the wind. Ahead of her, the forest rose like a black wall. She did not slow down. Branches scratched her arms and pulled at her hair. Roots caught her feet. Twice she stumbled and almost fell, but she kept going until her lungs burned and her side ached. Her thin shoes were soaked with cold dew, and the hem of her cream dress was torn. She did not care. She only wanted to be somewhere that nobody could see her. At last she reached a small clearing and dropped to her knees beside a fallen log. She wrapped her arms around herself and fought to catch her breath. For a while, the only sounds were her ragged breathing and the soft rustle of the leaves. Then the tears came again. She cried for the girl who had stood in front of the Moon Stone with hope in her heart. She cried for the prince who had looked at her as if she were nothing. She cried for her mother, who had died when Sera was only seven years old and had left her a small wooden bird and a name. "I only wanted to belong somewhere," she whispered to the empty forest. "That was all." The trees did not answer. The night was silent. Sera pressed her hand against her chest, where the bond had been. Only a raw, aching hollow remained. It felt as though someone had cut a piece out of her and left the wound open to the cold air. She remembered the wooden bird sitting on the shelf above her bed, and a fresh wave of grief rolled over her. She could not go back for it. She could not walk through those gates again, not after tonight. She remembered Kaelen's face as he spoke the words of rejection. It had been like carved stone. And yet, at the very end, she had seen sweat on his forehead and the way his hand had gripped his chest. "It does not matter," she told herself bitterly. "He made his choice." She wiped her face with her sleeve and tried to breathe slowly. In the morning, she could walk to the nearest village and ask for work. She had no money and no family, but she had two strong hands that knew how to scrub, cook, and carry. That would be enough to begin again. "I will never go back," she whispered. "Whatever happens, I will never go back." It was then that she noticed the light. At first she thought it was the moon. A soft golden glow had spread across the clearing and painted the grass and the fallen log in warm colors. But when Sera looked up, she saw that thick clouds had covered the sky completely. The light was not coming from above. It was coming from her. She stared down at her hands. The same faint shine she had seen in the courtyard was glowing beneath her skin, and now it was much stronger. Thin lines of gold ran along her fingers, her wrists, and her arms, like rivers of melted metal shining under glass. "What is happening to me?" Her voice cracked. She crawled backward and rubbed her arms hard, as if she could wipe the glow away. It did not fade. If anything, it grew brighter. Her heart began to race. She had heard stories of rejected mates. Some became weak and sick. Some lost their minds. Some, people said, simply faded away. But no one had ever spoken of a light. A wave of heat surged through her chest, so sudden and so strong that she cried out. It was not the cold, tearing pain from the courtyard. It was something completely different. It felt like a great fire waking up after a very long sleep. Sera pressed her palms against the ground to steady herself. The grass under her hands curled and turned black. A thin line of smoke rose into the air. She snatched her hands back and stared in horror. Two small handprints were burned into the earth. "This is not real," she said, and her voice shook. "This cannot be real." She closed her eyes and tried to calm down. She remembered what the other girls had told her about calling their wolves. Breathe slowly, they had said. Listen carefully. Your wolf will speak when you are ready. Sera had listened for two years. She had heard nothing. But now, in the stillness of the forest, she tried once more. She reached deep inside herself, past the pain and the fear, searching for a growl, a whisper, or even a heartbeat that was not her own. There was no wolf. The silence inside her was as deep as ever. But the silence was not empty, she realized. It was waiting. Something lay very still in the dark center of her, like a sleeper on the edge of waking. It was not a wolf. It was warm, ancient, and enormously powerful. Being near it felt like standing beside a great furnace. Sera could feel it slowly turning toward her, as though it had finally heard her call. Her eyes flew open. "Who are you?" she breathed. There was no answer. But the heat in her chest swelled, and the golden light around her blazed so brightly that the clearing looked as bright as noon. Shadows leaped and danced between the trees. A flock of sleeping birds burst from the branches and scattered into the sky. Sera tried to stand, but her legs would not hold her. The fire was pouring through her now, rushing along her veins and filling every part of her. Her skin grew hot, then hotter, then almost too hot to bear. Her breath came in short, shaking gasps. "Stop," she begged. "Please stop. I do not know what you want from me." The fire did not stop. Her vision blurred and turned gold. The clearing seemed to tilt and spin around her. She fell onto her side in the scorched grass and could not move. The last thing she saw was a ring of small flames that had sprung up around her fingertips, glowing red and orange in the dark. They did not hurt her at all. Then, from somewhere deep inside her, a voice spoke. It was not a wolf's voice. It was not like any voice she had ever heard. It was low, warm, and fierce, like the crackle of a great fire, and it spoke only three words. "Wake up, daughter."