CHAPTER THREE - THE WEIGHT OF DEAD WOMEN

Selene woke to someone staring at her.

Not like, standing over the bed killer staring. More like sitting in the corner judging your life choices staring.

She bolted upright, heart hammering, and found an older woman perched in the chair by the fireplace. She had steel-gray hair braided down her back, sharp cheekbones, and the kind of face that looked like it had never smiled, not even once, not even by accident.

“Fuck” Selene clutched her chest. “Do you people not believe in knocking?”

“You slept through the knocking,” the woman said, voice dry as bone. “Also through the door opening, me sitting down, and approximately twenty minutes of me waiting for you to wake up naturally. I got bored.”

Selene stared. “Who the hell are you?”

“Thalia. The Veyrath healer. I’m here to prepare you for tonight.”

Right. The bonding ceremony. The thing that was apparently going to consume her.

Great. Love that for me.

Selene swung her legs out of bed, realizing she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. She felt gross, disoriented, and extremely not ready to deal with whatever this day was about to throw at her.

“Prepare me how?” she asked warily.

Thalia stood, moving with the kind of efficiency that suggested she didn’t waste time on things like small talk or empathy. “First, you bathe. Then I examine you. Then we talk about what’s going to happen tonight, and you try very hard not to panic.”

“I don’t panic.”

“Everyone panics.”

“I’m built different.”

Thalia’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes suggested she’d heard that before. “The bath is through there. You have twenty minutes.”

The bath was ridiculous.

Like, genuinely absurd. The tub was carved from black stone, big enough to swim in, and filled with water that smelled like lavender and something else rosemary, maybe, or sage. Steam rose in lazy curls, and for a moment, Selene just stood there, staring at it.

When was the last time she’d had a hot bath? A real one, not a bucket of lukewarm water in the kitchen?

She stripped quickly, sinking into the water with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in her soul. The heat soaked into her bones, easing tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

For exactly thirty seconds, she let herself relax.

Then the mark on her back flared, sharp and insistent, and she remembered: Oh right. I’m magically bound to a werewolf king who needs me to either break a curse or die trying.

She scrubbed herself clean, trying not to think about tonight. Trying not to think about Dorian’s voice in her ear: The bond will consume you.

What did that even mean? Would it hurt? Would she lose herself? Would she wake up tomorrow as someone…somethingelse?

Stop, she told herself firmly. You’re spiraling.

She climbed out of the bath, dried off, and found clothes waiting for her a simple dress in deep green, soft and surprisingly comfortable. No corset, no ridiculous layers. Whoever picked it out had actually considered the fact that she might want to, like, breathe.

When she emerged, Thalia was waiting, arms crossed.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the bed.

Selene sat.

Thalia moved closer, her eyes sharp and assessing. “Turn around. I need to see the mark.”

Selene hesitated, then turned, pulling her hair over one shoulder. She felt Thalia’s fingers on her back cool, clinical tracing the lines of the sigil that had burned itself into her skin.

“It’s deep,” Thalia murmured. “Deeper than the last one.”

Selene’s stomach clenched. “Is that bad?”

“It means the bond is strong. Which could be good or bad, depending on how you handle it.”

“Super helpful, thanks.”

Thalia moved back around, studying her face. “You’re stronger than Lyanna was. Physically, I mean. But strength isn’t always enough.”

“What is, then?”

“Stubbornness.” Thalia’s mouth twitched not quite a smile, but close. “The will to fight even when every instinct tells you to give in. Lyanna was kind. Sweet. She wanted to please people. That’s what killed her.”

Selene’s throat tightened. “I’m not sweet.”

“No,” Thalia agreed. “You’re not. That might actually save you.”

She pulled a small vial from her pocket—dark glass, filled with something that shimmered faintly. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain tonight.”

Selene took it, eyeing the liquid suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Crushed moonflower, valerian root, and a few other things you don’t need to know about. It won’t stop the bond from taking hold, but it’ll dull the worst of it.”

“And if I don’t drink it?”

“Then you’ll spend the night screaming. Your choice.”

Selene uncorked the vial and downed it in one go. It tasted like dirt and regret.

Thalia nodded approvingly. “Good. Now listen carefully, because I’m only explaining this once.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, her gaze steady and unflinching.

“The bonding ceremony is ancient. Older than the Veyrath line, older than the curse. It was designed to bind an alpha to their mate to create a connection so strong that nothing could break it. Not distance, not time, not even death.”

Selene’s pulse quickened. “Sounds romantic.”

“It’s not.” Thalia’s voice was flat. “It’s brutal. The bond will force its way into every part of you your mind, your body, your soul. You’ll feel everything Dorian feels. His anger, his pain, his… needs.”

Oh. Oh.

“And he’ll feel me?”

“Eventually. But not tonight. Tonight, the bond flows one way from him to you. You’ll be flooded with his presence, his wolf. It’ll try to dominate you, to make you submit.”

“And if I don’t?”

Thalia’s eyes glinted. “Then you’ll survive. Maybe.”

Selene swallowed hard. “What happened to the others? The ones who didn’t make it?”

Thalia was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Most of them broke. The bond was too strong, and they couldn’t hold onto themselves. They became… hollow. Extensions of the heir, not people anymore. And when the pregnancy came…” She shook her head. “Their bodies couldn’t handle it. The curse fed on them, drained them. By the time the child was born, there was nothing left.”

Selene’s hands curled into fists. “That’s not going to happen to me.”

“No,” Thalia said, something like approval in her tone. “I don’t think it will.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Kira poked her head in, grinning. “Thalia, stop scaring her. Selene, you ready? Dorian’s asking for you.”

Selene’s heart did a weird little flip. “Why?”

“Bonding ceremony prep. He wants to talk to you before tonight. Probably to give you one of his whole broody ‘this is going to hurt but it’s necessary’ speeches. He loves those.”

Thalia stood. “Go. And Selene?” She paused at the door. “Fight like hell. For yourself, not for him.”

Then she was gone, leaving Selene alone with Kira, who was practically vibrating with energy.

“Okay so real talk,” Kira said, lowering her voice. “Dorian’s been pacing all morning. Like, full on alpha having a-l crisis mode. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Worried.” Kira’s grin widened. “You’re already under his skin, and you haven’t even been bonded yet. This is gonna be so good.”

Selene didn’t know what to say to that, so she just followed Kira out the door, through corridors that seemed even more maze-like in daylight.

Finally, they stopped outside a heavy wooden door. Kira knocked twice, then shoved it open without waiting for an answer.

“Delivery!” she announced. “One reluctant mate, as requested.”

Dorian stood by the window, his back to them, hands clasped behind him. He didn’t turn around.

“Leave us,” he said quietly.

Kira shot Selene a look—good luck—then disappeared, closing the door behind her.

Selene and Dorian stood in silence.

Finally, he turned.

He looked… tired. The kind of tired that had nothing to do with sleep. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw tight, and those golden eyes were shadowed with something she couldn’t name.

“You slept,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Thanks to whatever was in that wine Kira brought.”

His mouth twitched. “She was supposed to bring water.”

“She’s a rebel. I respect that.”

Another almost-smile. Then it faded, and his expression turned serious. “Tonight—”

“Is going to suck,” Selene finished. “I know. Thalia gave me the rundown. Bond consumes me, I either fight or break, yadda yadda.”

Dorian’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t a joke, Selene.”

“I know it’s not.” She stepped closer, lifting her chin. “But if I don’t joke, I’m going to lose my mind. So let me cope however I need to, okay?”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, quietly: “Okay.”

Selene blinked. She hadn’t expected him to actually listen.

“I need you to understand something,” Dorian continued, his voice low. “When the bond takes hold, I won’t be… myself. My wolf will be in control. And he’s not gentle. He’s not kind. He’s going to want to claim you, to dominate you, and I—” He broke off, something raw flickering across his face. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop him.”

Selene’s heart pounded. “So what, you’re warning me you might hurt me?”

“Yes.”

At least he was honest.

“Then I’ll fight back,” she said simply. “If your wolf wants a fight, I’ll give him one.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed gold. “You don’t understand. He’s stronger than you. Faster. And the bond will make you want to submit.”

“Maybe.” Selene took another step closer, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow. “But I’ve been underestimated my whole life. And I’m still standing.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them electric.

Then Dorian reached out, his fingers brushing the mark on her back through the fabric of her dress. The touch sent heat racing through her, sharp and overwhelming.

“Tonight,” he said, his voice rough, “you’re going to hate me.”

Selene held his gaze. “I already do.”