His Rejected Mate's Secret
The moon had turned once in the sky since Lyra’s death; now we returned the favor with a petition.
I stepped into the circle with the twins at my chest. Their weight steadied me like an anchor. A current of something like prayer moved through the gathered crowd, threads of hush and chant woven together. Maelis’s voice rose, low and layered, a language older than packs and borders, and the spring responded with a silver ripple that traveled outward like a pulse.
“Tonight,” Maelis intoned, “the Moon calls. She asks for witness and for vow. We offer both.”