Chapter 5

Lydia’s POV

“If I smile any harder, my face will crack,” I whispered to Wendy, teeth bared while Luna Comfort poured more tea.

“You look lovely,” Wendy said, eyes wide like a warning. “Sip. Nod. Breathe.”

“I am sipping. I am nodding. Breathing is optional.”

Luna Comfort’s tea parties felt like little trials. Lace napkins. Sweet cakes I could not taste. Ladies with soft voices and sharp eyes. Every time someone asked how my adjustment was going, I let my lips do the work and kept my thoughts under lock.

“It is wonderful to be home,” I said, because that was the line.

“Have you shifted yet?” a she-wolf asked.

“Soon,” I said, and set my cup down before my hands shook. “I want the first time to be private.”

Luna Comfort gave me her practiced smile. “Of course, dear. We respect that.”

Respect was a word we said when we meant something else. I stared at the steam curling from my tea and counted the seconds. If I thought too long, the room tilted back to the garden, to a kiss I should not have wanted, to a bond I cut before it grew roots.

“Come on,” Wendy murmured as we left the table. “Fresh air. Quick.”

Outside, the sun sat mild on the stones, and birds chased each other over the hedges. Wendy looped her arm through mine and steered me past two warriors and a maid. Her voice dropped. “You have to stop looking like a ghost. Luna thinks you are homesick.”

“I am not homesick,” I said. “I am fine.”

“You are a storm,” she said. “A quiet one, which is worse.”

“I am fine,” I said again, softer. “I made a choice.”

We walked the path around the fountain. The water lifted and fell like a steady breath. I watched it until my shoulders eased.

“You could talk to me,” Wendy tried. “Whatever this is.”

“Not today.”

She nodded, but she looked at me like she knew a piece anyway.

I told myself the same thing all morning. I made a choice. I did not reject Victor on a whim. I did it because I could still think. Because a weak bond is easier to break than a strong one. Because a princess tied to an Omega is not a love story here. It is a sentence.

I heard him in my head. Tall. Quiet. Eyes that promised heat I had no business wanting. The way his mouth found mine in the garden when the moon was just above the trees. He did not taste like a worker. He tasted like a man who had been starving and found a flame.

“Do you regret it?” Wendy asked when we stepped into the shade.

I swallowed. “Ask me again in a year.”

“If he tells,” she said, “what then?”

“He will not,” I said, quick. “Being rejected is a shame. He will keep it to himself. I will keep it to myself. That ends it.”

“And if someone saw the kiss?”

“I will call it a dare,” I said. “A bet I lost. I can lie if I must.”

We moved again. Jobs for the day swept over me like waves. Luna Comfort wanted me at tea. Tristan wanted to show me the new training yard. Beta Zachary needed a word about security. I kept my head high and my voice even. People smiled at me. I smiled back. None of it touched the throb under my ribs.

My parents raised me to look like a promise. They sent me to Europe to build a story around my name. They taught me how to speak, how to sit, how to read a room and make that room like me. They did not teach me how to keep a mate safe when he had no rank, no title, no shield.

“Your parents love you,” Wendy said, like she could hear it.

“They love the pack,” I said. “I am a tool that happens to breathe.”

She flinched. I hated that I made her flinch.

We crossed the hall. Luna Comfort’s scent, light and sweet, trailed after us. I heard her laugh drift from the parlor, then the low rumble of my father’s voice from his study. It was early, but his door was open. That was never good.

“Lydia,” a guard called, “Alpha Gregory wants you.”

My heart slipped. “Now?”

“Now.”

Wendy squeezed my hand. “Should I come?”

“If they let you,” I said. “If not, wait outside and pray.”

We stepped in. The study smelled like old paper and clean steel. Father stood behind his desk, hands flat on the wood. Luna Comfort sat on the couch, ankles crossed like a lesson. Tristan leaned by the bookcase, pretending not to stare. Beta Zachary hovered near the map wall. Wendy came to my side and kept her head low.

“Sit, Lydia,” Father said.

I sat. The chair felt cold.

He watched me a beat too long, like he was adding up numbers in his head. When he spoke, his voice was even. “Alpha Zane of the Stonebrook will visit tomorrow. Lunch.”

Luna Comfort’s eyes cut toward me. “The Stonebrook are the largest pack in North America.”

“I know,” I said. My mouth was dry. Everyone knew.

Tristan folded his arms. His look said behave. My look said do not tell me what to do.

Father continued. “He is coming to meet you and to discuss terms with me. We will negotiate your place as his Luna.”

For a second the room went quiet enough to hear the clock. One tick. Two. Ten.

“My place,” I said. My voice felt like a stone in my throat. “As his Luna.”

“Yes,” Father said. “You are prepared for this.”

I stared at him, and pieces moved in my head, slow at first, then fast. The etiquette classes I took even when I wanted to learn knives. The lectures on house and budget. The soft lessons hidden under sharp ones. Smile here. Bend there. Be gracious. Command without raising your tone. Be a partner to power. Be an asset that breathes and bleeds, but only on schedule.

“You planned this,” I said. “For how long.”

“Since before you had teeth,” Tristan muttered, half a joke that was not a joke at all.

Luna Comfort lifted her chin. “It is an honor for a daughter to serve her pack. You were born for it.”

“I was born,” I said. “The rest you wrote.”

Father pinned me with his gaze. “Do not start.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked. My palms had gone damp. “Thank you?”

“I want you to use your training,” he said. “A lot depends on this. Do not embarrass us.”

Beta Zachary cleared his throat. “Alpha Zane has a temper. He respects strength. He hates flattery. He will test you.”

“I do not need a lesson in Alphas,” I said. “I lived with one my whole life.”

Luna Comfort’s fingers twitched. I saw it and felt a mean slice of victory, and then I was ashamed of the feeling. I did not want to be mean. I wanted to be safe.

Father leaned forward. “You will be gracious. You will be composed. Whatever ideas you have about your future, shape them to fit this reality. By noon tomorrow, your attitude will match our needs.”

“Understood,” I said. It was the only safe word left.

Wendy’s sleeve brushed mine like a signal. I did not look at her, but I held that touch like a string.

“When did you plan to tell me?” I asked. “Before he arrives or while he is eating his soup?”

“We are telling you now,” Father said.

Luna Comfort smiled like it was a gift. “You have time to prepare your dress and your mind.”

“My mind,” I echoed. “Right.”

Father’s brows drew together. “Watch your tone.”

I breathed once, slow. The map wall drew my eye. Lines and pins and names. The Silverwood pack sat second to the Stonebrook on every chart that mattered. My father hated second. He hated it the way a wolf hates a cage.

“He is young,” Father went on, as if youth were a flaw he could fix. “Half my age. He may be guided by a steady hand.”

“Mine,” I said.

“Mine through you,” he said.

There it was. Honest for once.

I thought of Victor. I thought of the way an Omega’s life could be broken by a single whisper from a man like my father. If they learned what happened in the garden, there would be no mercy. Rejecting Victor had not been cold. It had been kind. The kind that cuts.

Luna Comfort softened her voice. “Are you frightened, dear?”

“I am awake,” I said. “That is all.”

Tristan pushed off the shelf and came to stand where I could see him. “Zane is not a monster, Lydia. He is a soldier. Keep your head. You will be fine.”

“Thank you for your expert view,” I said.

“Enough,” Father snapped. The word cracked the air. “Lydia, go with Wendy. Choose three dresses. Work with the stylists. Do not be late for dinner. Beta Zachary, brief the security teams. Tristan, you will confirm the route.”

“Yes, Alpha,” they said in a small chorus.

I rose. My knees did not shake. I would not give them that.

“Lydia,” Father said as I reached the door.

I turned.

He held my eyes. “This is bigger than you.”

“I know,” I said.

“Then act like it.”

I dipped my head. “Yes, Father.”

In the hall, the air felt softer. Wendy slipped out after me and shut the door with care. She let out a breath and then another. “Say it,” she whispered. “Say something, or I will explode.”

“What would you like to hear?” I asked.

“That you will not run,” she said. “That you will not fight me when I make you try on twenty dresses. That you will not do something wild just because it feels like freedom.”

I looked down the long corridor, past the portraits of wolves who built this place, past the polished floor that showed me a ghost where I stood. “I will not run,” I said. “I will not fight you over dresses. Wild is for girls who can afford the cost.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I will be what they raised,” I said. The words tasted like iron. “Until I can choose again.”

Her hand found mine. “I am with you.”

“I know,” I said, and I did.

We started toward my room. Steps behind us echoed, and Luna Comfort’s voice floated from the study, low but sharp. “Watch her,” she told Wendy’s shadow. “Do not let her do anything foolish.”

Wendy winced. “I am sorry you heard that.”

“I was meant to hear it,” I said. I squeezed her fingers once. “Come on. We have work.”

“First question,” Wendy said, trying for light. “Hair up or down?”

“Whichever makes me look calm,” I said. “Teach me how to smile like a Luna.”