Under the Same Roof

Chapter Five

The celebration stretches long into the night, but the atmosphere never quite settles into ease. Music plays, and fires burn low and golden around the clearing, their light dancing across faces that smile a little too carefully. Wolves move between the tables, drinks in hand, laughter rising in bursts that feel more like obligation than joy. The alliance is real now—spoken, sealed, witnessed—but acceptance is something else entirely.

I stay close to Kael, the unfamiliar weight of my dress pulling at my shoulders, reminding me with every step that this night has changed everything. The fabric brushes against my legs as we move, and though the air is cool, I feel warm beneath the Moonlight, exposed in a way I can’t quite explain.

“Too much?” Kael asks quietly as we pause near one of the outer fire pits, his voice calm, concerned but not pressing.

“Not too much,” I answer honestly. “Just… a lot.”

He nods as though that makes perfect sense. “You don’t have to meet everyone tonight. They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

There’s no impatience in him, no expectation. Just consideration.

“I don’t want them thinking I’m hiding,” I say.

“They won’t,” he replies. “And if they do, they’ll learn better.”

His words are steady, not defensive, and the quiet confidence in them eases something tight inside me. He doesn’t speak like a man proving something. He speaks like someone certain of his place—and mine beside him.

Groups approach and leave in steady waves. Elders offer formal greetings. Warriors give respectful nods that linger a moment too long, eyes assessing, memorizing. I respond the way I was raised to—measured, polite, attentive. Years of being the Alpha’s daughter prepared me for this kind of scrutiny, even if knowing how to stand under it doesn’t make the weight lighter.

Kael handles most of the conversation, speaking of border patrol adjustments and resource distribution, but every so often he shifts just enough that our shoulders nearly touch, a subtle placement that speaks louder than any claim. He’s not placing me behind him. Not shielding me from view.

He’s placing me beside him.

And somehow, that matters more than anything he could say.

Eventually, the crowd thins near us, and Kael is called away briefly by one of his lieutenants. I remain near the edge of the clearing, grateful for the moment of stillness, letting the night air cool my thoughts.

That’s when I see him again.

Darian stands a short distance away near the older Raventhorn elders, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his profile. Without the ceremony’s formality, he looks less polished but no less commanding. His black shirt sleeves are rolled, forearms bare, his posture relaxed in appearance only. Even in stillness, there’s a contained readiness about him, like someone who never fully rests.

I don’t mean to watch.

But I do.

One of the elders—older than the rest, his hair streaked with grey—steps closer to Darian. I recognize him as the former Alpha, Darian and Kael’s father, though he no longer carries the title.

“You stayed for the ceremony,” the older man says, voice low but carrying in the quiet.

Darian inclines his head slightly. “Of course.”

“You could have left after the vows,” his father continues. “Many Alphas would have.”

“This concerns our pack,” Darian replies simply.

A pause follows, the kind built on years of unspoken understanding.

“You’re twenty-four now,” his father says at last. “Your brother has married. Alliances strengthen. When do you plan to think about your own?”

The question hangs in the air, casual in tone but not in meaning.

Darian doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze moves over the clearing once, unreadable.

“The mate bond doesn’t reveal itself until both wolves are twenty-one,” he says finally. “Before that, it’s just instinct and imagination. I still haven't found my mate. ”

“And now?” his father asks.

“Now,” Darian says quietly, “if it happens, it happens.”

There’s no eagerness in his voice. No anticipation.

Just acceptance.

His father studies him for a moment longer. “Choice shapes packs as much as fate does. Don’t forget that.”

“I don’t,” Darian replies.

I look away then, my thoughts shifting in ways I don’t want to examine too closely.

Choice.

The word feels heavier than it did earlier.

Kael returns a moment later, expression apologetic. “Sorry. Logistics never stop.”

“I’m learning that,” I say softly.

He smiles faintly, and we fall into step together, moving toward the larger gathering area as the night continues.

Behind us, the firelight flickers, and the sounds of the celebration carry on—laughter, music, the low hum of a pack trying to convince itself that unity has already taken root.

But beneath it all, something else lingers.

Not doubt.

Not fear.

Something quieter.

Like the sense that this alliance, like all things built by choice, will have to prove itself in time.

And that some of the choices made tonight may echo longer than anyone expects.