Chapter Three: Then I'll Choose Your Uncle

The recording had ended, but nobody in the hall seemed to realize it. Isolde stood rigid beside Damien, staring at the floor. At the front table, the old elder opened his mouth to speak.

Seraphina spoke first.

"I, Seraphina Vale, reject you, Damien Blackthorn, as my Alpha."

Her voice carried to every corner of the hall.

Nobody moved. A glass tilted in someone's hand and a few drops of wine hit the marble. Nobody rejected Damien Blackthorn. Seasoned warriors lowered their eyes when he walked past, and his own wife had just cut ties with him in front of the entire kingdom.

Something shifted in Seraphina's chest, like a rope that had been pulled tight for years going slack all at once. The warmth under her ribs flared and settled. It didn't feel like loss. It felt like putting down something she'd carried too long.

Damien's face darkened. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"No." She almost smiled. "For the first time in three years, I think I've found it."

He stepped closer and dropped his voice. "Do you understand what this will cost you?"

"Better than you do."

"Then take it back."

"Why? You stood on that platform and told everyone you were finished with me. I'm only respecting your decision."

"You're my wife!"

"Was," she said. "You made your choice, Damien. I'm just not pretending anymore."

His jaw worked. When he spoke again, it was quiet and ugly. "You think this makes you strong? Who's going to want a wolfless woman? Name one man in this kingdom."

It landed on an old bruise. Three years of that word, used like a leash. Three years of believing that if she loved him enough, he would eventually see something in her worth keeping.

But the bruise didn't hurt the way it used to.

"You keep saying wolfless like it makes you better than me," she said. "If I'm so worthless, why are you shaking?"

"I'm not shaking."

"Then stop shouting."

Someone near the buffet snorted. Several guests hid their smiles behind their glasses, and Damien saw every one of them.

"You ungrateful woman. I gave you my name, my home, my pack. Without me, you're nothing."

"Then we'll find out."

She turned to go. He moved in front of her, blocking the way, close enough that she could smell his cologne, the same one she'd bought him two Christmases ago.

"Move."

"Not until we're finished."

"We finished when you announced it to two hundred people."

He didn't move, so she stepped around him. He let her, because the whole hall was watching and he couldn't stop her without looking like exactly what he was.

"Fine!" he shouted at her back. "Go and find another man! See who takes you. Nobody in this kingdom would touch a woman with no wolf!"

Seraphina stopped.

She turned slowly and looked around the hall. At the curious guests. At the elders. At the women who had spent the evening whispering about her. At Isolde, who wouldn't meet her eyes.

Then her gaze landed on a man standing by the tall windows.

Black suit, a glass of champagne untouched in his hand. Dark hair, grey eyes, perfectly calm. He was the only person in the room who wasn't staring at her like a spectacle. He watched her like someone reading a difficult page and rather enjoying it.

Lucian Blackthorn. Damien's uncle.

She knew the name. Everyone did. He was the one man in the kingdom Damien never raised his voice to.

Nobody in this kingdom, Damien had said.

An idea took shape. It was reckless, insulting, and exactly the thing nobody would expect.

She started walking.

The crowd parted for her. Whispers died as people realized where she was heading. Damien frowned. "Where is she going?"

Isolde's face changed. "She wouldn't."

Lucian lowered his glass as Seraphina reached him. "Lady Seraphina."

She took hold of his collar, rose onto her toes, and kissed him.

The hall gasped. Somewhere near the stairs, a fan clattered to the floor. Isolde's mouth fell open. Damien went absolutely still.

Seraphina stepped back. Lucian's grey eyes were wide for a second, and then, she could have sworn, amused.

She turned to Damien. "You said no man would want me."

"SERAPHINA!"

She ignored him. "Lord Lucian. Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?"

Silence. Lucian glanced at his nephew, who looked ready to explode, then back at her.

"Do you always kiss men before you propose?"

"Only when I'm making a point."

He laughed, low and short, as though it surprised him. "And what point is that?"

"That I don't need Damien's permission to choose my future."

"You barely know me."

"That's true."

"And you're asking me in front of two hundred people."

"I am."

He studied her for a long moment. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it. He held out his free hand.

"Then I accept."

Damien stormed over. "Uncle, you can't be serious!"

"Why not? You rejected your wife in public, Damien. You can hardly expect her to wait around for you to change your mind."

"She's doing this to spite me!"

"No," Seraphina said. "I'm doing it because I'm tired of being treated like I'm worth nothing." She slid her hand into Lucian's. "You made your choice. This is mine."

Isolde pushed forward. "Seraphina, this is ridiculous. You can't marry someone just because you're angry."

Seraphina looked at her sister. Her voice was soft, which was worse. "You're going to give me advice about love, Isolde? After tonight?"

Isolde went pale. The whispers started again, louder, and this time they weren't about Seraphina.

"Enough!" Damien snapped, gripping Isolde's arm.

Lucian stepped between him and Seraphina. "Choose your next words carefully, nephew."

"You'd really marry her? A woman with no wolf?"

Lucian's expression hardened into something Damien had clearly never seen before. "Whether she has a wolf is none of your concern anymore."

Warmth spread through Seraphina's chest. For three years she had wished Damien would speak up for her like that. And a man she had barely said ten words to had just done it without being asked.

Lucian offered his arm. "Shall we, my future wife?"

"Gladly."

They walked toward the doors together, and nobody dared block their path.

"This isn't over, Seraphina!" Damien shouted.

She didn't look back. She had spent three years turning around every time he called her name.

At the front table, the old elder watched them go. His eyes stayed on the doors long after they closed.

Damien stood alone in the middle of the hall, the whispers rising around him like a tide. He had wanted her to feel unwanted. He had wanted the whole kingdom to watch her get thrown away.

Instead she had chosen another man. His own uncle.

And all Damien could do was watch the doors swing shut.