Chapter 2

The carriage jolted to a halt, and the curtain was yanked aside. "Inspection for Sterling Territory! Out!" a cold voice barked.

I was hauled down, staring up at the imposing Sterling Keep. A guard announced, "Single young individual found! Suspicious identity!"

The captain leading the patrol scanned me. "Take her. Fits the conscription profile. Send her to the Pack Healer’s lodge."

Two Warrior Attendants seized me, ignoring my struggles, and dragged me toward the stone cottage flanking the keep.

Pack Healer Lyra rushed to meet us, speaking rapidly. "Hurry! Wash her up and change her clothes! The ceremony must start!" She smelled of herbs and antiseptic.

I was forced into a chair by Omega Caretakers. They scrubbed me down and stuffed me into an oversized white dress emblazoned with the Sterling wolf crest. Finally, a rough, heavy dark wooden mask lined with wolf fangs and bone shards was clamped over my face, blocking my vision.

"Escort the Luna to the ceremony hall!" Lyra sighed in relief.

Trapped in the mask’s darkness, I was half-carried through stone corridors, ears filled with hushed whispers and distant trumpets—the signal for the wedding to begin.

"Poor thing, she’s shaking nonstop..."

"Shh! Orders are the ceremony must proceed..."

"Did the scheduled noble bride run off? Is this a replacement?"

"Captain Edmund’s situation is also problematic..."

My heart raced. Replacement? Like me? Had the crying bride fled, and I’d been grabbed to take her place? The sobbing girl...

In a corner near the entrance to the bustling hall, I heard muffled, terrified sobs.

"Sister?" I turned my head, voice muffled by the mask. "Why are you crying?"

The sobs intensified. "...Forced to replace Lord Edmund’s fated mate... He’ll definitely notice... I’m in love with a warrior..."

Memories flashed! The laborers had said Alaric’s marriage was a political union! I was substituting the political bride, while she was impersonating a bonded fated mate! This could never stay hidden!

"If you’re replacing a fated mate, you’ll be exposed!" I hissed, voice sharpening. "Run! Now! I’m here as a stand-in for Alaric’s political match—maybe I can fool them! Go to your lover! I’ll explain to Lord Alaric and keep them from blaming you!"

Her voice trembled with desperate hope. "...Thank you! May the Moon Goddess bless you!" Fabric rustled, and her footsteps faded quickly.

"Hurry! The ceremony’s starting!" Lyra’s voice approached. I was seized again and shoved toward the door radiating overwhelming Alpha power—still wearing the ill-fitting white dress embroidered with the Sterling wolf crest.

In the mask’s darkness, at the altar stood a figure as massive as a mountain—Alaric Argent. His Alpha presence made my knees weak, yet a strange sense of calm washed over me, overriding my fear.

Ancient vows echoed. A Warrior Attendant thrust a heavy silver ceremonial cup into my hands. Alaric’s palm closed over mine, steady and strong, as we raised the cup together. The vows were completed.

After the ceremony, I was escorted to Alaric’s chambers. I sat on the stone bed draped in furs, clutching the oversized dress, awaiting my strange husband.

Steady footsteps approached the door. It swung open, and he entered, carrying the scent of night dew and faint blood. He picked up the silver ritual dagger on the table and advanced toward me—to remove the mask.

"Lord Alaric!" An urgent report came from outside the door, "The tenant dispute in the southern border has escalated. Representatives from Oak Hollow and Grayborne are already waiting in the council chamber for your personal ruling!"

Alaric’s hand froze. His Alpha aura carried a flicker of impatience, but he only paused briefly before saying coldly, "Understood." The dagger was carefully set aside. He turned toward the door, then halted at the threshold, tilting his head slightly. His voice filtered through the mask, "Rest, Luna. No need to wait up. Pack matters take precedence."

"Go ahead, the pack’s affairs are crucial... I’ll stay here," I replied instinctively, my voice trembling slightly.

His footsteps vanished quickly.

I removed the heavy headdress and mask. An Omega Caretaker entered, "Luna, please forgive—"

"No need," I murmured. "The front lines need him."

Deep into the night, Alaric hadn’t returned. His Warrior Attendant knocked softly. "Luna, Lord Alaric may be out all night. He left his personal wolfhead insignia—it’s dusty and...stained with blood. I dare not clean it without permission."

On the table, wrapped in soft leather, was a heavy silver badge: a majestic wolf head, edges worn, a speck of dark red blood on its fangs.

I took the soft deer hide wrapping the badge, dampened it, and gently wiped away the dirt and blood. The badge gleamed in the firelight. With a charcoal pencil, I lightly sketched two overlapping tiny pine needle outlines on the smooth back surface of the badge.

After cleaning, I wrapped the badge again. As dawn broke, I leaned against the fireplace, clutching it, and drifted into a light sleep.

In my half-dream, a familiar scent surrounded me. A large hand gently brushed hair from my face and tucked the blanket securely around my shoulders. His thumb restrainedly stroked the top of my head.

The door closed softly.

Outside, Alaric whispered to the Omega Brigid, "Grandma Isolde will meet her soon. You know her...strict demands. Ensure...She doesn’t make things difficult for the Luna."