03 Homecoming

Sera

The Valdris palace looked exactly the same.

I stood at the main entrance staring up at white stone I'd spent my childhood hating. Three years and they hadn't changed a damn thing. Same arched windows, same marble columns, same guards in their ceremonial armor.

The drive here had been long. I'd caught a bus to the border territories, then hired a car for the rest. Three days of travel, three days of staring out windows trying not to think about what I was coming back to.

The scar on my collarbone still burned.

One of the guards recognized me. His eyes went wide.

"My lady, we didn't—I should alert—"

"Just open the door."

He did.

I made it three steps inside before someone screamed.

My mother came running from the east corridor, skirts gathered in her hands. She wasn't elegant or composed or any of the things a Queen was supposed to be. She was just a woman who hadn't seen her daughter in three years.

She hit me hard enough that I stumbled.

"Sera!" Her arms went around me, squeezing tight. "Oh gods, Sera, you're here, you're really here—"

I stood there, frozen. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be hugged by someone who actually cared.

She pulled back, hands on my face, tears streaming. "You're home. My baby’s home."

"I'm home, mama."

"Sera!"

Lyra came running down the corridor. She'd grown up. Last time I'd seen my sister, she was seventeen—still figuring herself out, all nervous with braces. Now she was twenty. Taller, filled out, beautiful.

She slammed into me and my mother both.

"I can't believe you're here!" Her arms went around my neck. She broke free, taking my face "I swear I thought…” She hugged me back, “You are back."

“Yeah." I hugged her back. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." She pulled back, grinning even though she was crying. "You're here now."

For a second, it almost felt okay.

Then a voice came from the end of the hall.

"Sera."

We all turned.

My father stood there in his formal robes, hands clasped behind his back. King Aldric Valdris—ruler of the wolf territories, master of political alliances, and the man I'd made a bet with three years ago that I'd just lost.

He looked at me. I looked at him.

Mom's hand found mine and squeezed. Lyra moved closer to my side.

My father walked forward and stopped a few feet away. His face showed nothing.

"I see you've decided to honor our agreement," he said.

His voice was level. Calm. Like I'd just been on vacation.

I swallowed. "The three years are up. I'm here."

"Indeed." His eyes flicked to the scar on my collarbone. "I take it things didn't work out with your mate."

"No."

"A shame." He didn't sound like he thought it was a shame. "We'll discuss the arrangements tomorrow morning. Be in the grand dining room at eight."

Then he walked away like this conversation had never happened.

The three of us stood there in silence.

"He's glad you're home," Mom said quietly. "He just doesn't know how to show it."

I didn't believe that for a second.

───

They showed me to my old chambers. The rooms looked exactly the same—same bed, same curtains, same view of the gardens where I'd spent half my childhood planning escape routes.

Coming back here felt wrong.

A servant brought dinner to my room. I picked at it and tried not to think about tomorrow.

There was a soft knock around midnight. Nadia slipped inside before I could answer.

We stared at each other.

"How are you holding up?" she asked.

"How do you think?"

She crossed the room and sat on my bed. "What happened with Kane?"

I told her. Not everything—I didn't have the energy for everything. Just the important parts. The ceremony. Elara. The rejection.

She listened without interrupting.

"So tomorrow your father's going to discuss the marriage," she finally said.

"Yeah."

"The alpha you're supposed to marry. Do you know anything about him?"

"Just that his name is Dimitri Volkov. Second son, reasonable temperament." I pulled my knees to my chest. "My father said he was suitable."

Something shifted in Nadia's expression.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Just... be prepared tomorrow, okay? Your father's been working on this alliance for years."

"I know."

She stood. "Get some sleep. You'll need it."

After she left, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

* * *

I heard Lyra before I even reached the dining room doors.

"—and I'm telling you, he was completely mortified. Just standing there covered in wine—"

Her voice cut off the second I walked in.

"Sera!" She was up and out of her chair before I'd taken two steps, practically running around the table. "You're awake, I was starting to think you were going to sleep all day—"

"Lyra, let her breathe," my mother said, but she was smiling.

Lyra grabbed my arm anyway, pulling me toward the empty chair. "Come on, sit, you have to eat."

"I can walk by myself."

"I know, but you're slow." She practically shoved me into the chair. "Anyway, Lord Brennan got drunk off his ass at the state dinner, crashed face-first into the wine table, and had to be carried out. Next morning he showed up acting like nothing happened."

"Lyra," Mom said quietly. "Language."

"Well, he did, Mother. There's no polite way to say it."

"Some people have no shame," my mother murmured.

Silence settled over the table. My father kept eating, methodically, not looking at any of us.

I pushed eggs around my plate. The knot in my stomach was getting tighter.

"So what happens now?" The words came out before I could stop them.

My father's fork stopped. He looked up at me.

I met his eyes. "The arrangements. You said yesterday we'd discuss them this morning."

He set down his fork carefully. "We will."

"When?"

"There are things you need to understand first," my father interrupted.

Lyra had gone very still. My mother was staring into her teacup.

My father leaned back in his chair. He looked satisfied. "Three years ago, you came to me with a proposal. You asked me to cancel your arranged marriage to Dimitri Volkov. You wanted three years to become Luna of Blackwater instead." He tilted his head. "Do you remember what I said?"

I swallowed. "You agreed."

"I did more than agree. I told you it was foolish. That leaving your pack would change your status—you'd become omega the moment you stepped outside our borders. That no Alpha would make an omega his Luna." His voice was calm, almost pleasant. "And you said you'd prove me wrong."

My chest tightened.

"I could have forbidden you. Forced you to marry Dimitri three years ago." He picked up his teacup. "But I didn't. Do you know why?"

I looked up at him. His expression was cold.

"Because I knew you'd fail," he said simply. "I knew you'd come back here having learned that feelings don't matter. Status matters. Power matters." He paused. "If you'd somehow succeeded—actually became Luna despite being omega—I would have been impressed. But we both knew that wasn't going to happen. The pack would have revolted."

My hands were shaking.

"So I let reality prove me right. And here you are. Three years later. Not Luna. Not even mated." His eyes flicked to the scar on my collarbone. "Just an omega who gambled everything and lost."

Silence fell over the table.

"So what now?" I forced myself to look at him. "When does Dimitri arrive?"

"Ah. That's the complication. Dimitri Volkov was killed in battle two years ago."

"He's dead?"

"Yes."

Relief flooded through me. "So the contract is void—"

"The contract was with House Volkov. Not specifically with Dimitri. The house still stands."

Guards along the walls started closing the doors.

"I don't understand."

"Father," Lyra whispered. "Why are they closing the doors?"

My mother's teacup clinked. "Aldric, what's going on?"

He ignored them both. "When a contracted party dies, the contract transfers to their heir. Dimitri's younger brother. Fenris Volkov, current Alpha of Ironmaw."

I stared at him.

"You can't be serious."

"The agreement was with House Volkov. Not any specific member."

"But you said Dimitri was reasonable—"

"Dimitri was the Alpha three years ago. He's not anymore. His brother is."

"That's a completely different person!"

"Same house. Same alliance. Same benefit." My father's voice didn't change. "Which Volkov you marry is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" I pushed back from the table, standing. "You're talking about the rest of my life!"

"I'm calling your personal preferences irrelevant to matters of state." He stood too. "You made a bet. You gambled you could become Luna despite being omega. You lost. Now you honor the terms."

"The terms were Dimitri!"

"The terms were House Volkov. The contract states obligations transfer to the heir." He walked toward me. "If you'd paid attention instead of being so focused on your fantasy, you would have understood that."

"You knew he was dead and didn't tell me—"

"I let you serve out your three years, which is what you asked for." His voice went cold. "You were still trying to prove me wrong, remember?"

"You set me up to fail."

"I gave you exactly what you asked for. You wanted three years. You got three years. The fact that your mate chose someone else—that you're standing here an omega with no position, no power, no prospects—that's your fault. Not mine."

The words hit like blows.

"You will marry Fenris Volkov. You will secure the alliance we need. Without complaint." He stopped a few feet away. "You've proven you can't be trusted to make your own choices."

"Aldric, please—" my mother started.

"Stay out of this, Irina."

"I can't marry him," I said. "Father, he's—"

The main entrance doors swung open.

Guards poured in. Different armor, heavier, cruder. Northern pack colors.

Then someone else walked through the doorway and every thought in my head went blank.

He had to duck to get through.

That was the first thing I noticed. The doorway was built tall enough for anyone in the palace to walk through comfortably but this man had to duck his head to fit.

Fenris Volkov was massive. Six and a half feet tall, shoulders so broad he filled the entrance. He wore furs—actual wolf pelts—and underneath I could see scars everywhere. His face, his throat, his hands.

His hair was dark and pulled back. His eyes were pale gray and cold. Full beard with patches of white.

Those eyes locked onto me and didn't move.

I took a step back and my hip hit the table.

My father was talking. Greeting him. I couldn't hear it over the rushing in my ears.

Fenris didn't look at my father. Didn't acknowledge anyone else. Just stared at me.

Then he took a step forward.

Every instinct I had started screaming. Till he looked at me and said;

"You're Sera Valdris."

* * *