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Adelaide's POV

The council hall of the Bloodmoon Pack hummed with cedar and damp.

I shrugged off my sweat-drenched silver fox cloak, my fingers absently tracing the Moon Goddess pendant at my throat.

The bronze throne beside me yawned empty—Alpha Ulrik's seat.

Boots echoed on stone steps before the door burst open, snowmelt and pine scent flooding in.

I knocked over the mead jug, rising to greet him, amber liquid pooling over the sheepskin map.

"You're finally back," I managed, my voice catching.

A year ago, we'd pledged ourselves as mates before the pack. Then the Lycan King summoned him north.

He never even marked me.

Now, as I looked at him, my mind was a tangled web.

My wolf let out a faint, rebellious snarl, catching a tangle of scents on Ulrik’s trail that made its hackles rise.

Now Ulrik stood armored and alive, his jaw set in that familiar stubborn line.

"Adelaide, the Lycan King's declared Velda will join the Bloodmoon Pack. I'll mark her."

My wolf snarled low in my ribs, scenting the musk of another female on him.

"Lycan Luna swore Velda was a warrior through and through. Will she kneel as a breeder?"

As soon as I finished speaking, Ulrik's cedar scent, laced with his Alpha aura, swept over me like a tidal wave.

He strode past me toward the throne, the tail of his sword scabbard scraping water-soaked stone and scraping up dark red moss.

"I'm marking her as my mate," his voice carried a sharp edge of anger. "She'll be my second Luna, just like you—equal in the Bloodmoon Pack."

The silver chain snapped in my fist. The moonstone pendant clattered toward a rain puddle.

"Two Lunas? The Moon Goddess would rage, and Bloodmoon would weaken..." I ground the shattered gem beneath my heel. The rain pounding outside the Packhouse suddenly roared in my ears. "Last year, on this day, you swore before her statue that my eyes were brighter than midsummer's—"

"Those were pheromones talking!" he roared, slit pupils narrowing as lightning flashed.

His sword hissed free, the tip lifting my damp collar. "Look at your neck. Even the temporary mark's fading."

He sheathed the blade with a metallic sigh. "Velda and I fought side by side in the north. I admired her. I used my campaign merits to petition the Lycan King for her place here. As my mate. Truth is, I didn't need your approval."

I stared at my flushed face reflected in the blade, memories flooding back of the East Wing collapse during the dry season

Those sweltering nights hauling basalt in the heat—Ulrik's messengers always claimed war made replies impossible.

Turns out, the cornflower seeds in the battle reports were never for me.

I let out a soft laugh, but when I spoke again, my voice was laced with sarcasm. "So you 'admire' her? What about the promises you made before you left for the northern tribes? You said if I fulfilled my duties as Bloodmoon's Luna, you'd use your merits to help save Frostfang Pack."

Ulrik's expression turned awkward.

He looked away, his voice tight. "Let's just forget those words. When we pledged to be mates, I hadn't met Velda yet. You were always suited to be a Luna... and now, I need something real."

I watched him, noting the tenderness in his eyes whenever he spoke of Velda.

Soon, he turned back to me. "She's unlike any she-wolf I've ever met. I love her."

I felt like I'd swallowed a fly—disgusted, but I pushed through the lump in my throat.

"And the elder Alpha and Luna—they agree?"

"Of course. It's the Lycan King's decree. My father, as former Alpha, understands its weight. Besides, they adore Velda."

They actually agreed? How ironic.

After all I'd done for Bloodmoon this past year, this was my reward.

"Is she already here? Why can't I sense her?"

I frowned, my wolf snarling in my mind as its tail lashed against my spine.

"No intruder's scent," it growled back.

Ulrik's gaze flickered, then he snapped, "She'll be my mate soon. I've already given her a temporary mark."

My wolf erupted in a snarl of fury.

Though Ulrik hadn't fully marked me, our vows before the Moon Goddess had forged a mate bond.

Giving another she-wolf a temporary mark was betrayal plain and clear.

Sensing my rage, he sheathed his sword with a metallic screech that startled the starlings nesting outside.

His ironclad armor slammed into me, knocking me back. The bronze candelabra behind me thudded as I collided with it.

"I know you feel wronged," he said, silhouetted against the light, "but it's the Lycan King's command." He paused at the stone door. "You're still the nominal Luna—until the pack grows familiar with Velda."

I forced a smile. "Then have Velda come see me. I have questions for her."

Ulrik refused flatly. "No need. She's not like the simpering she-wolves you know. A warrior through and through, too proud for petty jealousy."

I countered, "What does that make the she-wolves I know? Or what does it make me, in your eyes?"