001

"I won't go, Father. I'm sorry," I said firmly.

It was the season when a chosen noble house had to give up a daughter as a bride for the Alpha King before the full moon. Everyone knew what happened to the brides who went before. They all ended up dead. No one had ever survived the mating ritual with the Alpha King.

"Don't be unreasonable, Elara. Do you expect us to give your sister to the king instead? She's too young and fragile to survive the palace." My mother held Wren close, one arm wrapped around her like she might fall apart if she let go.

"You're setting me up to die, Mother." My voice shook, but I kept going. "The bride is supposed to be full-blooded. I'm not. I'm part human. I won't just die in that palace — I might not even make it past the screening before they execute me."

I tried to explain, even though I already knew their minds were made up. I could see it in my father's tight jaw. In my mother's flat, final eyes.

"Don't worry, Father. I'll go." Wren's voice came out soft and sweet, the voice she always used when she saw people watching her. "I don't want to let you or Mother down. I don't want us to be the family that refuses a royal command." Tears filled her eyes right on cue. She pressed herself closer to my mother. "We won't survive the king's anger if we don't do what's expected."

"You ungrateful girl." My mother's voice cracked like a whip. "We took you in. We fed you. We put clothes on your back and a roof over your head when you were left to die in that orphanage — and this is how you repay us?"

"Mother, that's—"

"Enough." She said it through her teeth, still stroking Wren's hair, like I hadn't spoken at all. "I've had it with you. Why can't you be like your sister? She's always ready to do what's best for this family, for this pack. And you — you complain about everything, every single time. Why must you be so difficult, Elara?"

Over my mother's shoulder, Wren watched me with a small satisfied smile. She already thought she'd won.

I took a breath before I spoke again, because I was done. Done arguing with people who'd already decided I didn't matter.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father, but I refuse this proposal. I won't sacrifice myself for something this pointless. I'll accept whatever punishment that comes from saying no." I turned to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

Wren crossed the room before I made it two steps. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

"You ungrateful little bitch." Her voice dropped low, meant only for me. "You're going to that palace in my place, and you're going to die there. That's exactly what you deserve."

I yanked my arm free. She stumbled back and fell to the floor, like I had pushed her with both hands. I hadn't even touched her at all.

Our parents rushed to her side before she'd even finished falling like flies drawn to something sweet and rotten. My mother gathered her up like she was made of glass.

"I was only trying to help," Wren sobbed, her whole body shaking, "and she...she pushed me."

"I didn't even touch her. I just—"

The slap landed before I finished the sentence. My cheek burned. My vision blurred. For a moment the room tilted around the ringing in my ear.

"How dare you lay hands on our daughter." My father wiped his palm on his trousers, like he'd touched something dirty and needed it off his skin. "This is the only reason we brought you into this family, and you will do as you're told. Pack your bags. You leave by dawn. End of discussion."

He turned back to my mother and helped Wren to her feet. Gentle in a way he hadn't been with me in years, not even once.

I stood there with my hand pressed to my burning cheek, watching them walk away without a single glance back. Wren looked over her shoulder just once, long enough to let me see her smirk, before she disappeared around the corner with our parents on either side of her like guards.

I made it to my room before the tears actually fell. Twenty years, and this was what it came down to — a substitute for their precious, fragile daughter. A wolf in sheep's clothing, dressed up in tears and shaking hands, and somehow I was the one who got slapped for it.

I packed anyway but not for the palace. I'd rather die alone in the forest from a bear attack than to give myself to the Alpha king.

My plan was simple: wait until after dinner, until the house went quiet and everyone was asleep, then leave. Disappear before dawn instead of being sent off like livestock. Let them explain that to the crown themselves.

At dinner, I ate in silence while Wren talked and laughed easily with our parents, like the afternoon had never happened. Of course she could laugh, her head isn't the one served on a golden plater.

I finished my plate, drank my water, and excused myself early. I'd need my strength for the road ahead. I had no wolf to lean on the way the others did, being only half of one, and every mile away from this house was going to cost me more than it would cost someone full-blooded.

Ten minutes after I left the dining hall, the hallway back to my room began to tilt. Was it me or the corridor looked funny.

My vision blurred at the edges and my steps slowed without my permission.

"No." I caught the wall to steady myself, my palm sliding against the stone as my knees started to give out. "It can't be."

I tried to push myself upright. I tried to force my feet to carry me the rest of the way to my room. But the darkness was closing in faster than I could fight it.

The last thing I saw, before it swallowed me whole, was Wren standing at the end of the hallway.

Sound comes back before sight does.

Wheels grinding over stone. Hooves, slow and even, somewhere ahead of me. My head knocks against something hard with every dip in the road, and I can't make my arms work enough to stop it.

I try to open my eyes but it's too bright, with torchlights smearing sideways across my vision.

Hands close around my arms, my feet scraping uselessly against stone that feels cold even through the haze. I want to fighy but my body isn't listening to a single thing I tell it.

My hair falls forward over my face, and I don't have the strength left in me to push it away.

Footsteps stop close by. Not the ones holding me — someone else. Someone whose presence alone seems to pull the air tighter around us, even half-conscious as I am.

"She'll do." The voice is low, unhurried, like he's appraising livestock instead of a person. "Take her to my chambers."