Novels by Mirabel

The cabin smelled faintly of cedar and new paint, it was as though it had been made hurriedly to be finished for the occasion. The grounds were lined with fresh rugs, candles flickered on polished tables, and garlands of pine twined along the mantel. It should have felt warm, even welcoming, it should be the beginning of a new chapter. To Ella, all it felt like, was like a cage gilded with silver ribbons.The door shut behind her with a soft thud that seemed to sound too final. She lingered just inside, clutching the folds of her dress in both hands, uncertain whether to step farther in. Without even sparing her a glance, Cole strode past her, his boots sounded heavy against the wooden floorboards. He pulled at the collar of his ceremonial robe and carelessly tossed it onto a chair, the crest of his house sliding sideways with the motion.Ella’s heart gave a small, foolish flutter. Despite everything part of her had hoped that that maybe, just being away from the crowd, away from the

Beneath the silver glow of lanterns that was strung high in the pines, The sacred grounds shimmered. Moonlight streamed through gaps in the trees, washing the clearing in a pale blessing that should have felt holy, but to Ella it felt like a spotlight for trapping prey. Wolves from every corner of the Silver Claw’s territory filled the seats that circled the ceremonial platform, their voices a low hum of anticipation, the air was thick with incense and pine resin.At the edge of it all, Ella stood. Her hands were clutched together, it was clutched so tightly that her nails were able to dig into her palms. The pale silk dress the Luna had chosen for her clung to her shoulders and spilled like liquid light to the ground. It was meant to make her look radiant, ethereal, a human elevated and accepted into their world but to Ella all it felt was like a costume stitched over her skin, hiding the truth of what she was: a girl who didn’t belong here, forced to play bride to a man who despised

Dawn came too soon.Ella woke to the sound of bells ringing through the pack-house courtyard, the bright chime meant to signal celebration. But to her, it felt like a funeral toll. The room smelled faintly of pressed flowers and silk—Mara’s doing, no doubt, for the Luna-to-be should wake to beauty on her wedding day.But Ella felt none of it.As she tried to push herself upright, her stomach churned. She stared at the gown which was draped over the wooden stand near her bed. Overnight, the seamstresses had finally returned it, it was pressed and perfect. The silver threading glimmered in the early light, and for a moment, she thought it almost mocked her.A knock sounded, it was brisk but not unkind. Before she could answer, Mara swept in. The Luna carried a tray filled with steaming tea and slices of honey bread, her face glowing with excitement.“It’s time to rise, dear,” Mara said, setting the tray by the bed. “Today is your D-day.”Ella managed a small smile, but as she reached fo

The pack-house had finally quietened. The bustling of seamstresses, decorators, and servants had all been trickled into silence, leaving the hallways hushed except for the occasional echo of a door closing or the distant hoot of an owl beyond the windows.Ella stood in her borrowed room, the gown draped across the bed like looking like a beautiful accusation. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, silvering the delicate lace, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to touch it.Her chest ached with the pressure of everything which were unspoken.Tomorrow, she would stand before the pack and pledge herself to a man who despises her. Tomorrow, she would take the name of Luna, a title she had never sought or desired for and one she feared she would never be fit to carry.A soft knock pulled her away from her thoughts.Marcus stepped inside, his presence filling the room the way it always had—solid, grounding. His gray-streaked hair caught the moonlight, his shoulders square though his eyes s

ELLA POVThe pack-house had been transformed into a hive of frantic energy. Bolts of fabric lay draped over chairs, seamstresses darted from room to room with pins between their teeth, and the head cook barked orders at the apprentices in the kitchen below, through every corridor the scent of roasted meat and honeyed bread drifted all across.At the center of it all, stood Ella, she stood like a mannequin draped in lace. A seamstress circled all around her, while tugging at the hem of her gown, she clucked her tongue talking about adjustments. The was no denying the fact that the dress was beautiful, it was a white silk with threads of silver that shimmered in the light, the kind of garment she had only ever seen or heard in fairy tales.But Ella felt nothing of such.Every tug of fabric felt like another stitch in the cage which was closing around her. Every whispered compliment from the women at her side was another reminder that this wasn’t her choice. This was all about duty. This

Sasha povThe packhouse buzzed like a beehive preparing for a festival. Everywhere Ella turned to, hands tugged at her, voices gushed with suggestions—this ribbon, that fabric, the color of flowers to line the hall. The seamstresses cooed over her dress fittings, the cooks argued over menus, and the elders debated which ancient blessing should be recited before the vows.But Sasha barely let herself see any of it.She stood by the window in the upper corridor, her arms folded, her gaze fixed on the courtyard below. Ella twirled before Marcus and Mara, her blue dress glittered in the sunlight, her cheeks flushed pink. Laughter floated upward, it was sweet and light, the kind of laughter that made even the wolves sigh in approval. The pack had already begin to adore her, and she hadn’t even be crowned Luna yet.Sasha’s nails bit into her arms until crescents of blood rose beneath her skin. Every laugh, every approving nod, felt like a knife which turned deeper. She had to find a way to