A streak of gold crept across the stone floor of my bedroom as the morning sun crept through the thin curtains. No amount of blankets or morning tea could chase away the draft, even with the warmth of the sun.

Today was the day.

The Irving island was already buzzing with activity. The sounds of voices in the courtyard mingled with the clatter of carts and the soft calls of staff preparing for the ceremony. My window looked out over the sprawling grounds dotted with banners bearing the Irving crest.

I ran a hand down the front of the dress Luciana had designed for me. As the light moved through the deep blue fabric, the silver embroidery caught the light like moonlight on water. I liked how it hugged my figure in an elegant and unapologetically flattering way. It had a high neckline, while the lattice of straps framing my shoulders gave it a more trendy feel. I wasn’t used to this level of” drama in my attire, but I didn’t mind it today.

Julia had explained that this was just the first of two outfits for the ceremony. Devon and I would welcome the guests first, then change into the ceremonial garments for the actual ritual. Apparently, Lycans didn’t do understated when it came to celebrations.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and let my gaze linger. My dark, wavy hair fell over my shoulders in loose waves, arranged just so by Julia’s masterful hands. My warm caramel skin glowed from the oil Luciana moisturized me with, and the blue dress complemented it so well. As I stared back at myself, my bright green eyes gave away more than I wanted them to. Everyone said they were my most striking feature, though I’ve always thought they made me look more serious than I am.

The dress accentuated curves I’d tried to hide for most of my life. Growing up among dainty witches and elves with their willowy frame, I felt too solid, too shapely.

Becoming his mate officially, in front of his entire clan, felt” intimidating. Not because I doubted him or us, but because it was so huge, and I was used to modest things. It was also crazy to think that he’d claim me again in front of the whole house.

As I adjusted the lattice straps on my shoulders, I took a deep breath. My heart was beating out of my chest and I couldn’t understand why I was so nervous.

“Do I look ridiculous?” I asked, turning to Julia, who had been fussing over my hair for the last twenty minutes.

Julia stepped back, tilting her head as she assessed me. Her eyes sparkled with approval. “You look like royalty,” she said simply.

I huffed, crossing my arms. “A very nervous one, maybe.”

Luciana clicked her tongue from her spot by the door. “Enough self-doubt, your grace. You’re a Le Torneau. Facing your mother is far worse than a room full of Lycans and their traditions. Hold your head high. You’re their Luna now, whether you like it or not.”

Her bluntness made me laugh. “And you wonder why I keep you around?” I muttered.

My heart leapt when I heard the knock at the door. I didn’t need to ask who it was.

“Enter,” I invited.

When Devon walked into the room, I felt the air drain from my lungs, like it always does. His scent filled the space effortlessly, curling around me like a physical presence. My eyes widened as I took him in, and for a moment, all I could do was stare.

He looked mighty in his black and silver robe, draped over his broad shoulders and chest like a majestic cape. The tailored cut accentuated that huge frame that came from centuries of hard work. Hair smoothed back, beard trimmed, and his absolutely smoking glorious face was the best part.

And those stormy grey eyes. They locked onto me the second he stepped inside, and it felt like the room shrank around us. His gaze swept over me slowly, intentionally, as if he were cataloguing every detail of my dress, my stance, the way I was gawking at him.

Heat crept up my neck, and I had to fight the urge to look away, to gather my composure. But how could I? Devon didn’t just walk into a room; he owned it. And, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or curse him for looking that good. Probably both.

He smirked, a knowing curve of his lips that made my pulse quicken. “You’re staring,” he said.

“You’re one to talk,” I shot back, even as my voice squeaked. My hands smoothed over my dress reflexively, as if I could make myself look any more composed under his gaze. “Do you always make an entrance like this?”

His smirk widened as he closed the distance between us, his eyes never leaving mine. “Only for you, C—il.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek, sending my pulseinto overdrive. I stepped back, taking deep, big breaths and looked up at him.

“You’re ready,” he said, approvingly.

“I’m dressed,” I corrected, smoothing the fabric of my skirt nervously. “Ready might be a stretch.”

He reached out, and his fingers brushed mine. “Come on, C—il. You were born for this.”

“Are you nervous?” I asked, tilting my head at him.

“Not about you.”

I raised a brow. “Then what?”

He hesitated and looked out the window. “The timing,” he said finally. “With everything happening, the sigils, the cult, this ceremony feels’”

“Like bait?” I finished for him.

His jaw tightened. “Possibly. But we can’t delay it. You need to be recognized as Luna by the Lycans. Their strength is key to guaranteeing your ascension.” He paused. “Removing the House of Jojyre from power will take a while. I’m going to need to strategise with Saffron to get the support of the oriental houses and mind benders.”

I exhaled with a nod. He was right. It was a dangerous path Gaia chose for me, but there was no turning back now. “You don’t seem concerned about the Faes or the Fangs.”

“They are predictable,” he grunted. “There’s no way we’ll get the Faes” support. They’re ensconced in their traditions. The Fangs, on the other hand, will come once you’re coronated. They go where the power is.”

Before I could say anything, Julia stepped forward and bowed low. “Lord Irving, if I may,” she said in a soft voice. “It’s true, my kind is staunch in their ways and rigid about bloodline purity. But, I think the Faes would support her grace if she entered a soul contract with one of our Faeries. Given her grace’s affinity for water, a river faerie would be ideal.”

“Gracious Gaia!” Luciana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Even your high Lords couldn’t do that. Why would you suggest Lady Celeste to do it?”

“It’s just a suggestion,” Julia replied calmly, but she sounded a little urgent. “Faeries are second only to Gaia in the Fae realm. If one entered a contract with her grace, the Faes would have no choice but to recognize her as their sovereign. It is our way.”

I’d heard of these soul contracts with faeries. But they were rare and unbreakable. It was a symbiotic union where the faerie could be used as a weapon, and it could also use you too.

To accept a faerie—a being who was both an ancestral spirit and guardian of the Faes—into my being would mean granting them a place within me, a permanent tether.

But it was nearly impossible to convince a faerie to enter into a contract. They followed their own cryptic logic and inexplicable standards. It had been so long since the last recorded bond that it had become a myth, fibs told by scholars and elders to inspire awe.

What if I got lucky? It could tip things in my favour if the Faes were on my side. Inking a contract with a faerie meant being vulnerable to their whims. I also had to worry about their ancient desires colliding with mine. Plus, once the contract was sealed, there was no turning back. If that happens, I will be at the mercy of a being whose true nature I will never fully understand.

“Julia,” I said slowly. “You’re suggesting that I tie myself to a faerie for life just to win the Fae support? Is that the only way?”

“It’s the surest way,” she told me. “The Faes hold influence that even the House of Jojyre cannot ignore. In a way, you would have to do this if you’re willing to unite all of Wridel under your rule.”

Devon’s hand found mine. “It’s not unfounded,” he said. “But soul contracts are forever. You’d be bound to the faerie in ways we don’t fully understand.”

A huff came from Luciana. “Lady Celeste is already tied to Lord Irving. Doesn’t that affect this?”

Julia tilted her head. “The mate bond is sacred and different from these contracts. A contract gives her the power to sway the Faes and the Elves. She wouldn’t be marrying a faerie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I gripped Devon’s hand tighter. Now wasn’t the time to make a decision on this. “Let’s revisit this after the ceremony,” I said. “Right now, our focus is the ceremony. One step at a time.”

Devon nodded. “Agreed. But let’s not ignore this, C—il. Julia’s right. The Faes support could turn things around. Don’t worry about our bond. It can’t be broken. Try to think objectively about this.”

I swallowed hard. “I will,” I said. “Is there’”

A knock at the door cut me off, and I turned to see my mother enter, flanked by a train of attendees.

“Mother,” I said with a tight smile. “How gracious of you to come.”

She glanced at Devon and her expression turned icy. “I didn’t have much of a choice,” she said. “I thought we were supposed to discuss this before we proceeded to elaborate wedding rituals.”

She glared at Devon, but he didn’t flinch.

With a sigh, I waved at Julia and Luciana. “Lead the ladies out,” I said. “My mother seems intent on this conversation.”

Julia and Luciana bowed and started ushering people out. I watched my mother walk to the nearest couch.

My mother sat straight with eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She inclined her head toward Devon in the barest show of respect.

“Lord Irving,” she said curtly.

He gave a quick nod. “Lady Le Torneau.”

Looking between them, I braced myself for the most chaotic, inevitable clash.

“Celeste,” my mother started. “Are you aware of the anarchy this abrupt ceremony has caused? It’s inappropriate and reflects poorly on you.”

The urge to roll my eyes was strong, but I held back. “The Irving house has rites Devon may have overlooked when he marked me. This ceremony is to reinforce our bond and guarantee that the Lycans acknowledge me as his mate. You should appreciate that.”

Her lips twitched, and she wasn’t even trying to hide her disapproval. “This could have been avoided if Lord Irving had followed proper protocol.”

Before I could respond, Devon cut in. “I apologize for the oversight, Saffron. We’re not just talking about rites any more. Delaying would have put Celeste at greater risk. The ceremony bolsters her position as supreme successor before anyone has the chance to challenge it.”

The look on her face was cold as she stared at Devon. “You’ve thrust my daughter into the spotlight without preparing her properly. You should have consulted me.”

He didn’t bat an eye. “With all due respect, Saffron, Celeste doesn’t need anyone to prepare her. She’s already proven capable of handling far more than this.”

A small, involuntary smile tugged at my lips at his unerring defence. But my mother’s expression tightened. “Capable or not, she deserves time to do things properly. Rushing risks making her vulnerable.”

“I appreciate your concern,” I interjected, stepping in before the argument boiled over. “But this isn’t a negotiation. The ceremony is happening, and I’ll make sure it’s done right.”

The look in her eyes softened as they shifted to me. “Did your mate tell you about the others yet? I wanted to explain myself, so you’d understand how difficult this will get—especially now that it’s public knowledge Lady Loreleia despises you.”

I stiffened because of her statement about Loreleia, not because she intended to tell me about the other successors. “He did.”

“Good,” she said with a curt nod, then her eyes flickered to Devon again. “Will you be accompanying her on the tour of Wridel?”

“She isn’t doing that,” Devon said, as if he’d rehearsed his answer. “As part of my agreement with Loreleia, Celeste will remain here for four seasons. During that time, I’ll teach her everything she needs to know. She’ll attend all council meetings and deliberations in my official capacity. By the next Solstice’s End Feast, her coronation will happen.”

Then he turned to face my mother. “Thanks to your efforts, word about her selection has already spread through Wridel. That was ingenious, Saffron.”

A faint flicker of satisfaction crossed her face, although her lips remained pursed. “It had to be done. If Loreleia wants her gone, the most effective defence is to make her standing as the next successor irrefutable. Wridel must see and know her as the next Supreme Successor, not just hear whispers of it.”

He tilted his head a little. “You’ve executed that. It’s time to strengthen her position.”

In a way, I felt more like a pawn than a person. “I’m right here, you know,” I said dryly. “And while I appreciate the planning, I am capable of handling myself.”

Mother raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Handling yourself isn’t enough. The only way to win is with allies, a sound strategy, and strong support. Wridel is a battlefield. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” I replied. “I’m also not going to let fear or politics dictate my every move. That’s not who I am.”

“Then you’d better learn quickly. This ceremony is only the beginning,” my mother said.

Devon’s hand settled lightly on my back. “She’s stronger than you think, Saffron.”

She stared at him, and her scrutiny was piercing. Finally, she nodded. “We’ll see. Lord Irving, if you want her to prosper, you’ll have to shield her from more than just Loreleia. The council will poke at her every chance they get.”

“And I’ll be ready for them,” I said before Devon could say anything. “Now, if we’re done with the warnings, I’d like to prepare for the ceremony.”

Mother’s gaze lingered on me for a while, like she was sizing me up one last time. Finally, she stood, smoothing the lines of her gown. “Very well,” she said. “Try not to make mortal enemies of anyone else.”

“I understand,” I replied.

With a curt nod, she turned and swept toward the door. Devon’s hand remained steady on my back, and I leaned into the quiet strength of his touch. The anxiety that had been coiled up in my chest unravelled as the door closed behind her, and I exhaled.

“She means well,” Devon said softly.

“She means to prepare me for war,” I muttered, brushing my hands over the edges of my hair. “And she’s not wrong.”

Devon stepped closer, his hands settling on my shoulders before he turned me to face him. His stormy eyes met mine, seriously. “Then let’s win it.”

“You say that like I planned to lose,” I said, smirking as I lifted a brow at him.

He smiled a little. “I’ll see you out there, C—il.”

I shoved him toward the door with a playful roll of the eyes. “Go on, Alpha. Don’t swoon too much over me.”

I loved the way he laughed as he turned to leave. When the door clicked shut, I stood there for a moment, letting the quiet settle.

War. My mother wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t about to lose this fight—not with him by my side.