**Chapter 13** **The Torn Dress**

Dorian let go of my wrist like it had burned him.

He turned around slowly. Kael was standing at the end of the garden path, maybe twenty steps away. He was still in his dark riding clothes, with mud on his boots and the wind pulling at his black hair. He must have come straight from hunting the rogues.

He didn't move. He didn't shout. He just stood there and looked at Dorian.

I had seen men afraid before. I had seen my father sweat in the square. I had seen the rogues at the spring turn and run. But I had never seen anything like the way Dorian looked at that moment. His face went grey. His hands started to shake. He took one step back, and his heel hit the low stone wall.

"Alpha," he said. His voice came out thin. "I was only saying hello. Mira and I are old friends."

"I heard you," Kael said quietly. "I have very good ears."

My heart stopped. *How much did he hear? Goddess, how much?*

But Kael's eyes didn't move to me. They stayed on Dorian.

"I heard a man who was rejected by his mate two days ago," Kael said. "I heard a man who is sick and angry and looking for someone weaker to take it out on. I know what that looks like. I've seen it in a hundred rogues." He took one slow step forward. "You're a guest in my house, Ashfall. Because your father asked, and because I don't want a war over a sad boy. But if I ever see your hand on my wife again, you'll go home without it."

Dorian swallowed hard.

Then, slowly, the crooked smile came back to his face. It shook a little at the edges, but it came back.

"Of course, Alpha," he said. "Forgive me."

He looked at me one more time as he walked past. Just a quick look. But I saw the message in his eyes, clear as words on a page.

*This isn't over.*

Then he was gone up the path, and it was just Kael and me and the wind.

---

Kael didn't speak for a long moment. He walked up beside me and stood at the low wall and looked out at the sea. I stood very still beside him and rubbed my wrist where Dorian had held it.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Those words again. Every time he said them, my heart squeezed.

"No."

"What did he want?"

I thought fast. "He wanted to say sorry," I said. "For what happened. With Selene. We were friends, before. He just wanted to say sorry."

Kael turned his head and looked at me.

"Mira," he said. "Rule seven."

My face went hot. Of course he knew. He always knew. My heart had jumped, and my breath had stopped, and I had looked down and to the left. Just like in the car.

I stood there with my cheeks burning. I wanted to lie again. Lying was easy. I had been lying to protect myself my whole life. But he was looking at me with those gold eyes, and something in me just… couldn't.

So I remembered what else he had said in the car. *If you don't want to answer something, say so. I'll respect that.*

I lifted my chin.

"Then I don't want to answer," I said.

He looked surprised. Just for a second. Then something in his face changed. It wasn't a smile, not quite. But the hard line of his mouth went a little softer.

"Fair," he said.

That was all. He didn't push. He didn't get angry. He just nodded and looked back at the sea.

I couldn't believe it. In my whole life, nobody had ever let me say no.

"Come," he said after a while. "I'll walk you to your room."

---

He walked me back through the big dark house. People bowed when we passed. Kitchen girls. Guards. A woman carrying a baby. They bowed to him, and then, a little slower, a little unsure, they bowed to me.

When we came to the bottom of the north tower stairs, I stopped.

"This is fine," I said. "I can go up by myself."

He looked at the narrow stone stairs. He looked at the cold, damp walls. He frowned.

"Why are we at the north tower?"

"That's where my room is."

His face went very still.

"Your room," he said slowly, "is in the east wing. Beside mine. I told the housekeeper myself."

"It's all right," I said quickly. "Really. I don't mind. It's quiet. I like the quiet."

But he was already walking past me, up the stairs. Two at a time. I had to run to keep up.

He pushed open my door and looked inside. He saw the narrow bed with its thin grey blanket. The tiny fireplace with no wood. The cracked window with the wind coming through. My little bag sitting on the chair.

He didn't say a word. He turned around and walked back down the stairs, and I followed him, and he went straight through the house to the main hall. The housekeeper was there, giving orders to two maids. She saw his face and went pale.

"Alpha…"

"Who put my bride in the north tower?"

The whole hall went silent.

The housekeeper's long face shook a little. "Alpha, Miss Hale asked…"

"Miss Hale," Kael said, "is a guest in this house. She is not the lady of it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She does not give orders here." His voice was quiet, but every word was like a stone. "Move Mira to the east wing. Now. Light a fire in her room. Bring her food. And if anyone in this house ever disrespects her again, they will answer to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Alpha. Yes. I'm so sorry."

As the housekeeper hurried away, I looked up and saw a flash of red silk at the top of the grand stairs.

Selene had heard everything.

She was standing very still with her hand on the rail. Her face was white with anger. Her dark eyes met mine across the hall, and they were full of poison.

Then she turned and walked away.

I knew right then, in my bones, that she would make me pay for this.

---

She did it on the night before the wedding.

My new room in the east wing was beautiful. It was big and warm, with a soft bed and thick blankets and a fire that someone kept burning all day. There were tall windows that looked out over the sea. And on one wall there was a dark wooden door with a heavy lock. It led to Kael's room. I tried not to look at it.

The wedding dress came that afternoon. The housekeeper brought it herself, carrying it in her arms like it was made of glass.

"It belonged to the Alpha's mother," she said quietly. "He asked for it to be fixed for you."

I couldn't speak. I just touched it.

It was white silk, soft and heavy, with long sleeves and a skirt that fell all the way to the floor. It wasn't fancy. There were no jewels. No ruffles. Just beautiful, simple white silk, the color of moonlight. The seamstress had made it smaller to fit me.

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever touched.

The housekeeper hung it on a stand by the window. Then she left me alone with it, and I sat on the bed and just looked at it for an hour. I tried to imagine myself in it. Walking toward him. Him looking at me.

*It's only a contract,* I told myself. *Only paper. It doesn't mean anything.*

But my heart didn't believe me.

I went down to the kitchen to help with dinner, the way I did every day now. The big cook, whose name I still didn't know, had started letting me make the bread. When I came back up to my room two hours later, the door was standing open.

I stopped in the doorway.

The wedding dress was still on its stand by the window. But the whole front of the skirt was black.

Ink. A whole bottle of black ink, poured from the waist all the way down to the floor. It had soaked into the white silk in a big, ugly stain, like a dark shadow spreading across the moonlight. It was still wet. It was dripping onto the floor.

On the floor beside it, the empty ink bottle lay on its side.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just stood in the doorway and stared at it, and something inside me went very cold and very quiet.

The housekeeper came running when she saw my face. She looked at the dress and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, no, no. The Alpha's mother's dress. Who… who would…"

We both knew who. Neither of us said it.

"There's no time," the housekeeper said. Her voice was shaking. "The wedding is at noon tomorrow. There's no other dress. There's no seamstress in the house tonight. Oh, the Alpha will be so angry…"

I walked over to the dress. I touched the ink. It came off black on my fingers.

I thought of all the nights in Hollowmere I had spent fixing clothes. Selene's torn dresses. Vivienne's silk skirts. My father's shirts with the buttons ripped off. I had sat by the kitchen fire with a needle and thread more times than I could count, while everyone else was asleep.

"I need scissors," I said.

The housekeeper looked at me. "What?"

"Scissors. A needle. White thread, a lot of it. And silver thread, if you have any." I turned to her. "And lace. White lace. Old curtains, an old tablecloth, anything. Is there a storeroom?"

She stared at me for a long moment. Then something in her long, tired face changed.

"There's a storeroom," she said slowly. "In the old wing. Full of things from the Alpha's mother's time."

"Then show me."

---

I worked all night.

I cut away the whole front of the skirt, the part with the ink. It was terrible to cut that beautiful silk, but there was no other way. Then I took the old lace from the storeroom. It was yellow with age and a little torn, and we washed it in cold water and laid it by the fire to dry. It came out the color of fresh cream.

I sewed the lace over the front of the skirt, layer on layer, so it fell like water to the floor. And over the places where the ink had crept around the edges and wouldn't come out, I sewed flowers. Small silver flowers, with silver thread, one by one. Moonflowers. The flowers my mother used to pick for me at the Weeping Spring when I was little.

The housekeeper stayed for a while, holding the candle. Then she went to sleep. Around midnight, the door opened, and the big cook came in. She was wearing her nightgown with a shawl over it, and she was carrying a big cup of tea.

"Heard you were up here," she grunted. "Heard what happened."

She put the tea beside me. Then she pulled up a chair and sat down and picked up the other needle.

"I can't sew flowers," she said. "But I can sew a hem."

So we sewed together, all night long, by the light of the fire. She didn't talk much. Neither did I. But at about three in the morning, she said, "My name's Bertha, by the way," and I said, "Thank you, Bertha," and that was enough.

When the sun came up, I put down my needle and looked at the dress.

My fingers were bleeding from the needle. My eyes were burning. My back ached like I had been carrying stones all night.

But the dress was more beautiful than it had been before.

The lace fell soft and creamy down the front. The silver moonflowers caught the morning light and shone like little stars. It didn't look like a dress someone had saved. It looked like a dress someone had made with love.

Bertha looked at it for a long time. Then she looked at me.

"Hm," she said.

And this time she smiled.

---

The great hall was full by noon.

Hundreds of wolves stood in long rows on both sides of the hall. At the very front, by a tall stone altar, sat five old wolves in a row. The Elders. Beside them stood a very old man in a long grey robe, with a white beard down to his belt. The priest.

On the altar in front of him sat a big round stone. It was pale grey, almost white, as big as a man's head, with a smooth flat top. The Moon Stone.

And beside the altar, waiting, stood Kael.

He was wearing black. Of course he was. A long black coat with silver buttons. His hair was pushed back from his face. He looked tall and hard and frightening. Like a king.

Then I walked in, and he turned and saw me.

I watched his face. I couldn't help it. I watched his eyes go to the dress, the lace and the silver moonflowers. I watched him go very still. Something moved across his face. Surprise. And something else I couldn't name.

From the front row, someone gasped.

I looked. It was Selene, in a pale pink dress, sitting beside the Elders like she belonged there. She was staring at my dress. Her face had gone completely white. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

I walked past her with my head up. I didn't smile at her. I didn't have to.

I stopped beside Kael at the altar. My heart was beating so fast I thought I might faint.

The old priest lifted his shaking hands.

"We are here," he said, in a voice like dry leaves, "to join Kael of the Draven line, Alpha of Blackfang, and Mira of Hollowmere, as husband and wife, in the sight of the Moon."

He turned to me. He held out a small silver needle.

"By our oldest law," he said, "every bride of Blackfang must give one drop of her blood to the Moon Stone. So the Moon can see her. So the Moon can accept her."

I looked at the needle. I looked at the big grey stone.

Under my collar, the moonstone was cold against my skin. Very cold. Colder than it had been all morning.

I held out my hand. The old priest pricked my finger. It was a small, sharp sting. A single red drop of blood rose up on my skin.

I held my finger over the stone.

The drop fell. It landed right in the middle of the smooth, flat top.

For one second, nothing happened.

Then the stone began to glow.

Not red. Not gold. Silver. A soft, pale, beautiful silver light, like the moon coming out from behind a cloud. It spread out from the drop of my blood across the whole stone, and then it shone up into the air, and the whole altar was full of silver light.

The great hall went completely silent.

The old priest's hands began to shake. He stared at the stone. Then he stared at me. His old eyes were wide and wet.

"Moon have mercy," he whispered, so softly that only Kael and I could hear. "It hasn't done that in a hundred years."