Chapter 3

The night before our bonding ceremony, Rowan’s parents hosted a family dinner at the Alpha House.

I brought my mother’s recipe journal with me. I planned to give it to the kitchen so they could prepare her moonflower pudding for tomorrow’s bonding feast.

It was the only dish I had insisted on choosing myself. My mother had served it at every winter celebration when I was a child, and I had spent weeks adjusting her notes for the larger feast.

Rowan’s grandmother leafed through the journal.

“You’ve taken good care of it. One day, you can pass it down to your children.”

Celine, seated beside Rowan, held out her hand.

“May I see it?”

I took the journal from his grandmother and placed it back inside its wooden box.

“Sorry. It belonged to my mother.”

Celine drew back her hand, her smile faltering.

“I was only curious. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Rowan glanced at me.

“She only wants to look at a recipe book. You don’t need to be so protective.”

“It’s the last thing my mother left me.”

Rowan said nothing more, but soon changed the subject.

“Celine will be one of your attendants tomorrow.”

I looked up at him.

“Why didn’t anyone ask me?”

“The original attendant was injured this afternoon. Celine helped organize the ceremony, so she knows every step.”

“If you don’t want me there, I can step aside,” Celine said quietly.

“The list has already been sent to the priest. There’s no reason to change it again.” Rowan made the decision for her. “She’ll only be standing beside us. It won’t affect anything.”

When the staff brought out dessert, Celine stood to move a plate out of the way. Her elbow struck the wooden box, sending the journal over the edge of the table and straight into a gold pot of hot syrup.

I reached for it, but Rowan caught my wrist.

“Don’t. You’ll burn yourself.”

“Let go.”

I pulled free, wrapped a napkin around my hand, and lifted the journal from the pot.

Syrup had already soaked through the pages. My mother’s handwriting bled across the paper, and several sheets stuck together. I tried to separate two of them, but the wet paper began to tear beneath my fingers.

“I’m so sorry.” Celine hurried toward me. “I didn’t see the box there.”

Rowan ordered the staff to clean the table, then glanced at the ruined journal in my hands.

“The kitchen has already seen the recipe. They can write out another copy.”

“They can’t recreate my mother’s handwriting.”

“Then we’ll serve something else.” Rowan frowned. “Don’t ruin the entire dinner over a recipe book.”

I stared down at the syrup dripping from the pages and said nothing.

Celine came closer and took my hand.

“Elara, this is my fault. You have every right to be angry with me, but please don’t fight with Rowan because of it.”

I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip.

“Let go of me.”

“I’m only trying to apologize.”

When I pulled my hand free again, Celine stumbled backward. Her lower back struck the chair, and all the color drained from her face.

Rowan caught her immediately.

“Celine?”

She pressed a hand to her old injury, trembling as she leaned against him.

“I’m fine. Elara didn’t mean to do it.”

Rowan looked at me.

“You knew about her injury. Why would you push her?”

“I didn’t push her. She wouldn’t release my hand.”

“Everyone saw you shove her away.”

Celine caught his sleeve.

“Don’t blame Elara. She’s upset about the journal.”

The words made every face at the table turn toward me.

Rowan refused to hear anything more. He lifted Celine into his arms and told a staff member to call the healer.

At the doorway, he stopped.

“If her injury destabilizes her wolf, tomorrow’s bonding ceremony will be postponed until she recovers.”

Then he carried her out of the dining room.

I remained beside the table, holding the journal as my mother’s handwriting dissolved into the syrup.

Tomorrow was supposed to be our bonding ceremony.

Yet Rowan was still willing to make everyone wait for Celine.