Chapter 1

Vira's POV 

The silk lining of the wedding gown moved against my ribs as my mother pulled the silver corset laces tight enough to leave bruises on my skin.  

I pressed my hands on the cold mahogany table, breathing in short, painful gasps.  

"Stop breathing like that, Vira," my mother hissed, tying the thick ribbons into a hard double knot at the base of my back.  

"If the Alpha King sees you panting like a fish out of water, he will know this dress was not made for you."  

"I'm not a chicken Mother, I'm three inches wider than Elara at the waist, Mother," I said through clenched teeth, my cheeks burning under the thick white powder she had smeared on my face.  

"And my hips are twice the size of hers. The moment I bow at the altar, these seams will tear open."  

"Then do not bow," my father snapped, slamming the dressing room door shut. His face was pale and covered in sweat in the dim candlelight.  

"Elara is gone. 

She climbed the garden wall at dawn and ran away with that useless tracker.  

If I enter that chapel with empty hands, King Gryfyn will cut off my head and take my lands before midday."  

"Then tell him the truth!" I begged, turning my head as far as the stiff collar would allow.  

"Offer him money! Do not lie to a man who commands forty thousand northern wolves!"  

"He is an Alpha King, you foolish girl!" my father shouted, grabbing my shoulder and squeezing until it hurt.  

"He does not take deals from weak southern lords. He came here for a bride to seal a blood treaty.  

You will wear that veil, you will walk down that aisle, and you will keep quiet until we are far past his border."  

"He will know the moment he touches my hand," I said, my voice shaking with anger and fear.  

"I do not walk like Elara. I do not smell like her. 

I have spent my whole life hiding in your gardens while you showed her off!"  

"Then today you will finally be useful to this family," my mother spat, grabbing the heavy three-layered silver veil from the velvet cushion and throwing it over my head.  

The thick lace fell over my eyes and everything turned dark and blurry.  

Before I could lift it, my father grabbed my elbow with a painful grip and dragged my stiff, suffocating body out of the room and into the stone halls of the chapel.  

Walking down the long aisle felt like walking to my death.  

Through the dark lace, I could see the tall shadows of Northern war guards standing on both sides of the stone floor.

  

Their dark leather armor smelled of iron, dried blood, and cold mountain air.  

At the end of the aisle stood a large, dark figure, Alpha King Gryfyn Black did not look like a groom.  

He looked like an executioner, His broad shoulders stretched the dark velvet of his coat, and his wide chest rose and fell in slow, dangerous breaths.  

The cold energy coming off him was so strong that my lungs felt frozen before I even reached the altar steps.  

My father dropped my arm like I was dirty, and stepped back into the shadows.  

I stood alone at the bottom of the stairs, my hands pressed tightly over the tight fabric across my stomach, my heart pounding like a trapped bird.  

"You are late, Lord Lynx," a deep, rough voice growled from above.  

The voice was cold and had no warmth at all.  

"The bride was... preparing herself, My Lord," my father stammered behind me.  

Gryfyn did not even reply, he just walked down the stone steps.  

His heavy leather boots made soft sounds on the floor, and he stopped right in front of me.  

The smell of pine, dark earth, and pure Alpha male hit me, and my wolf cowered in fear.  

"Give me your hand," Gryfyn ordered, his voice sharp and cold.  

My hand shook as I lifted it, My fingers looked pale through the lace glove.  

The moment his large, rough palm closed around mine, a violent rush of heat shot through my body.  

It was not sweet, It was painful, like an electric shock that hit my heart and made me gasp.  

Gryfyn’s grip turned to steel, A low, dangerous growl came from deep in his chest.  

Without waiting for the priest, without saying a word, his long fingers reached up, grabbed the heavy veil, and tore it off my head with force.  

The cold air hit my face, and my dark hair fell over my bare, round shoulders.  

Gryfyn stared down at me, His golden eyes were narrow and full of hatred.  

He looked at my round face, my full dark brows, and down to the heavy curves straining against my sister’s small silk dress.  

He did not look at me with surprise, He looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe.  

"Who are you?" Gryfyn barked, his voice echoing through the stone walls.  

"I... I am Vira," I whispered, trying to stay steady even though fear was choking me.  

"Elara's sister."  

Behind me, my father dropped to his knees and started begging.  

Gryfyn did not even look at him, He stepped closer, his large body towering over me.

And his  golden eyes burned with anger, He just reached out and dug his thick thumb into my chin, forcing me to look up at him.  

"A substitute," Gryfyn said quietly, his voice low and dangerous and making my blood run cold.  

"Your coward of a father thought he could give me his unwanted daughter and insult my kingdom."  

A painful lump rose in my throat, but I forced myself not to cry.  

Not in front of him.  

"I am not an insult, My Lord," I said, my hazel eyes burning with quiet anger.  

"And I am not my sister."  

"No, you are not," Gryfyn growled, letting go of my chin and grabbed my wrist, holding me tightly to his side.  

Then he turned to his head warrior, his voice loud in the silent chapel "Kaelen! Arrest Lord Lynx, Take their food stores, double their taxes, and lock down their estate!"  

"Gryfyn, no!" I gasped, trying to pull my wrist from his grip.  

"Take me, but leave my people alone!"  

Gryfyn looked down at me, His face was cold as ice.  

"I am taking you, substitute," Gryfyn whispered in my ear.  

His hot breath made me shiver with hate.  

"You are coming to the North as my prisoner.  

And you will pay for what your family did, every single day, until I find your sister.”