2 - Four Grooms

Sybil’s POV

The doors to the Great Hall opened.

Light flooded in, moonlight filtered through towering stained-glass windows with the silhouette of wolves, crowns, and ancient sigils. The sound hits me next. Thousands of voices fell into silence all at once as the traditional wedding march that they adopted after cross-breeding with the humans started playing.

So many eyes were looking at me. Judging eyes just because a lot of them don’t know me.

I straightened instinctively, spine stiff as a blade, even though my body very much disagrees with this wedding.

I walked down the aisle between my parents like some obedient, porcelain bride. Parents whom I’ve known all my life but just met a week ago, after I impulsively decided I wanted revenge against the person who broke my trust and heart.

My wedding gown was white and ivory with touches of silver and rhinestones. A corset top fitted tight enough to remind me of every breath I take. A princess neckline that bares my neck and shoulders to the world, an A-line skirt flowing like a lie. 

The light caught in the silver thread and rhinestones woven through the fabric, making me glow and sparkle. But I don’t feel radiant. I feel like bait.

After the Great War, they decided white was appropriate, because after this country had been cursed, all the shewolf that time became barren, which also extended to the neighboring countries, thousands of miles from its area of effect.

Men had no choice but to take in human brides just to have offspring, who took some of their traditions with them. 

Some Alphas were lucky enough to either convince or buy shewolves from other unaffected areas of the region to marry them.

“Walk properly, dear,” my mother, Queen Gisella von Rosen, whispered through a perfect smile. “People are watching.”

I kept my smile, too. Barely.

“I could,” I murmured back, teeth clenched, “if you had done your motherly duty and informed me that my attendants needed to… how shall I put this politely… invade every last shred of dignity of my behind before I walk down the aisle.”

Her fingers tightened around my arm for half a second.

“But you didn’t,” I continued sweetly. “So kindly deal with my not-so-elegant, very traumatized walk, after the fingers of my attendants diligently made sure I was thoroughly clean back there.”

She nodded to a row of elders, smiling unwaveringly.

“Lower your voice, and watch your mouth,” she said calmly. “You are a Lycan princess, not some cheap girl in the red light district. It was necessary.”

“Oh? Right…” I hissed. “Funny, because tonight I’m apparently marrying four men I’ve never even seen, so forgive me if I don’t feel particularly royal right now. I feel like a whore being sold to shoot a gangbang movie.”

I added, I can’t help it, I agreed to getting married, but I was not informed that I needed to marry four men. “I mean, who does that? Who in their right mind marries four men at the same time?”

Her jaw tightened, and her smile became stiff. “You might have grown up with humans, but you’re a Lycan. You’re not like them; don’t lower yourself to their level. This is a blessing from the Goddess of the Moon. Accept it with open arms.”

“And why…” I added, bitterness bubbling up, “ Why am I the only one being offered up like this? You’re a Lycan. Sofia is a Lycan. Why am I the only sacrificial lamb?”

Her answer came without hesitation. “You know very well the goddess blessed you with four mates,” she said. “I was not.”

“How convenient,” I said and rolled my eyes.

“As for your sister,” she continued softly, “her future is uncertain. She is weak and always sick. She may not even live long enough to meet her fated mate.”

That one landed hard. A little bit of guilt crawled up within me.

I swallowed. “So you’re saying that I should be grateful?”

“Not all werewolves even find their mate in their lifetime. But you, you not only have one, but four. You are the future Queen of this kingdom, and they are the future Kings who will rule over our land. You are very lucky, and that luck will be extended to our people after you fulfill your duties. After you give birth to the future heir who will finally break the curse that we have been suffering from for hundreds of years. I’m saying it is destiny, it is your fate.”

I snorted under my breath. “Or politics. Or a very well-dressed lie.”

She didn’t look at me. “Mind your thoughts.”

“This is very sketchy. My wolf is caged,” I whispered. “I can’t even feel if that mate pull is real. These Alphas, my so-called fated mates, could be lying, you know. Who knows? They could be fooling you because they wanted to be Kings. They wanted to rule. The elders. The priests. Everyone. I heard from the servants that no one alive today witnessed something like this before: a lycan with multiple fated mates. What if the history books were fake or wrong?”

Before she could answer, my father’s grip tightened on my other arm.

“Enough,” my father, King Alfred von Rosen, muttered sharply, smile fixed, eyes forward. “Silence. Both of you.”

He leaned in just enough for me to hear.

“Most of these guests may be hybrids,” he said, “but some of them still have very sharp ears. And your conversation is bordering on vulgar.”

I rolled my eyes but closed my mouth.

So does my mother.

We walked on. The aisle felt longer than it should. Red carpet beneath my feet. Ancient stone beneath that. 

The Great Hall stretches endlessly, banners hanging from vaulted ceilings, each bearing the crest of a pack.

I forced my steps to steady, even as my body protested.

Damn it! I can still feel what those women did to me.

Every step was a reminder; it was worse than a colonoscopy.

So humiliating!

I focus straight ahead, refusing to let my expression crack.

At the far end of the hall stands the altar, an ancient slab of moonstone carved with runes older than the kingdom itself. Behind it, the High Elder waits, staff in hand, eyes glowing faintly with power.

But something is missing.

I scanned the space beside the altar.

Empty.

No grooms.

My pulse stuttered.

So they won’t even let me see them before it’s done? This is really infuriating…

As we reached the end of the aisle, the music faded. The murmurs rose again.

I can feel them measuring me.

The Lycan heir. The shewolf who dodged the curse and death… 

My parents released my arms.

I stood alone.

The High Elder raised his staff, the runes flaring to life.

“On this night,” he intones, “under the full moon, we gather to witness the binding of ancient blood and future rule—”

The doors slammed open behind me as I faced the altar.

The sound echoes through the hall like thunder.

Every head turns.

Including mine.

Four silhouettes stood framed in moonlight by the entrance.

Tall. Broad. Unmistakably male. Unmistakably powerful. All were wearing ceremonial robes made of fur and gold threads.

My breath hitched, not in desire, but in instinctive recognition of danger.

So, I thought grimly, heart pounding. These are the men I’m supposed to marry?

They were wearing hoodies on their head but their face was visible, only that, it was covered in tribal paint with the same color that symbolizes their pack. But even with a painted face, I could still say that they are not average.

Not bad… At least I’ll marry some good-looking men and not like those hairy, scary-looking, royal guards…

And suddenly, I understood one thing with terrifying clarity.

Whatever was supposed to happen tonight… It will surely not going to be gentle.