Stepsisters shadows

Isabella’s POV

The feather seemed to pulse with dark energy, whispering secrets I couldn’t hear yet. My stomach twisted.

Sienna had  been here, or perhaps something had.

The grand hall of Moon Crest glittered like a polished blade; cold, sharp, and deadly beneath the moonlight pouring in through its tall arched windows.

 I stood just beyond the threshold, my breath caught in my throat, my fingers tightening around the silken folds of my ceremonial dress. 

I'd been groomed and pressed into form like some ornamental offering: my curls pinned in place, a deep sapphire gown laced with silver threading to reflect the Slade colors. I was meant to belong. But every eye that turned my way whispered something else entirely.

My heart stumbled a beat as the doors closed behind me, then the feast had begun.

The table stretched down the center of the room like a spine; noble wolves from allied families on either side, their polished smiles hiding teeth. And at the far end sat Trenton.

Alpha Trenton Slade, my mate.

And he hadn't blinked  so much when I walked in.

His jaw clenched, his expression carved from stone. The bond between us simmered like an open wound, invisible to others but raw and gaping inside me. As I stepped into the flickering candlelight, his cold gray eyes locked with mine.

He lifted a glass to his lips and looked away.

The slap of that rejection didn't echo aloud, but it roared in my head. My wolf recoiled as if struck.

Darcy, seated beside his brother, glanced my way with subtle concern. He nudged an empty chair on the other side of the table for me. Far from Trenton. I walked to it slowly, my footsteps muffled against the plush black carpet, the weight of judgment dragging with every step.

I didn't need to hear the words, I could read them in every sidelong glance.

Usurper, the intruder and the unchosen one. 

When I reached my seat, the noblewoman to my right; a sleek elder named Lady Morwyn, offered me a stiff nod. 

"Lady Isabella," she said with all the warmth of a winter storm, "I hear your bond is… unconventional."

The subtle hush around us thickened.

I met the woman's gaze evenly,  "The bond was chosen by the Moon Goddess."

Morwyn's eyes narrowed,  "So they say." She said nonchalantly. 

Oliver, seated across from me, cleared his throat and raised his glass. 

"To unity," he said, voice soft but steady, "and to the strength of new bonds."

The toast was met with lukewarm applause, but Trenton didn't raise his glass.

Instead, he took another slow sip of wine and leveled me with a stare that could have chilled fire. My skin prickled. He hadn't spoken to me since the training grounds, and the memory of him wrenching away from my hand still made my chest ache.

‘You don't get to want this,’ he'd said.

I hadn't known wanting could hurt like this.

My fingers twitched against the edge of my plate. A goblet of water trembled at my place, catching the light from the chandelier above. The crystals dangling from it refracted moonlight into strange patterns across the marble floor—no, not just patterns.

I blinked, it was like a rune. 

It was circular, ancient, humming softly in my mind like an echo of something older than words. It flickered, then vanished the moment a servant passed between me and the light.

I shook my head and reached for my goblet. I needed to focus. This wasn't just a dinner—it was a declaration. Every noble at this table was watching for cracks in the Slade triad. If they saw division, they'd smell blood in the water.

And  now they  already do.

As I sat there, wondering why they had just a large dinner table, a  murmur reached my ears. 

Lady Dera leaned toward her neighbor, her lips barely moving, but the words floated to me on the tension between worlds:

 "She wasn't even raised with the pack, she’s half-feral, I heard."

"I'm right here," I said, my voice low and cool.

Dera blinked, then forced a smile. "Oh, dear. I didn't realize you had such sharp hearing."

"She's a mate to three alphas," another noble muttered from farther down. "It's unnatural, some say it’s dangerous."

"No more unnatural than three brothers sharing one bond," I countered.

That shut them up, at least for a moment.

I caught Oliver's small nod of approval, but it didn't soothe the sharp coil of unease in my stomach. The nobles weren't just whispering; they were rallying. Testing me, they were waiting for me to snap or slip so they could spin it into prophecy.

I stabbed my fork into a piece of roasted root, appetite long gone.

Darcy leaned across the table slightly, "You okay?"

I gave him a tight smile,  " I’m Perfect."

His eyes flickered toward Trenton, then back to me. "Ignore them."

"They're not the ones I can't ignore."

Darcy didn't argue. He sat back, his shoulders tense, clearly fighting the instinct to say more.

The worst part was knowing I'd wanted this. Not the grandeur or the gowns or the judgment—but belonging. Being part of something bigger than myself. Being part of a  family, being part of a pack.

But instead, I was just  a symbol. A problem, a  prophecy unfolding one uneasy breath at a time.

My wolf paced inside my chest, restless, agitated. The mate-mark on my shoulder hadn't appeared, not even faintly, and it pulsed now like a warning. I resisted the urge to touch it.

Across the table, Trenton finally spoke—to a nobleman beside him. I didn't catch the words, but his tone was sharp, dismissive. When he glanced my way again, it wasn't to apologize.

It was to challenge.

‘You don't belong here,’ his  look said.

I straightened my spine, muttering under my breath. ‘Watch me.’  

Dinner continued in stilted conversation, with laughter that rang hollow and toasts that meant nothing. I nodded when I had to, answered politely, but kept my real thoughts locked behind my eyes.

Until a flicker of movement caught my attention, just under my plate.

I waited until no one was watching, then slipped my fingers beneath it. A folded note rested there, edges crisp, ink dark and glistening as if freshly written.

I unfolded it slowly.

‘Meet me at midnight if you value your life.’

My breath hitched, I was yet to recover  from the feathers I saw on my pillow and now this?  

The letters shimmered faintly in the candlelight, a strange script beneath the main message, older, maybe fae. I pressed the note against my thigh under the table and looked up, scanning the hall and no  one was watching  me. 

The nobles chatted on, Trenton was laughing bitterly at something a cousin said. Darcy was focused on a bread roll.

But Oliver.

Oliver was just staring at me. Quiet, composed, his eyes unreadable, but he saw everything.

I lowered my gaze and folded the note again, at midnight then.

Someone wanted to talk, or warn. Or kill me.

I'd find out which soon enough.