The dress was too beautiful .
Cora stood in front of the mirror, staring at the woman reflected back. Deep burgundy silk that clung to her body, a neckline that showed enough to suggest power without revealing vulnerability. Her hair was pinned up, exposing the column of her neck. Jewelry she didn't recognize glittered at her ears and throat.
"Stop fidgeting." Mira's voice came from behind her, where she was adjusting the hem. "You'll wrinkle the fabric."
"I'm not fidgeting."
"You've touched your hair four times in the last minute."
Cora forced her hands to her sides. "What if I mess this up?"
"Then you mess it up. The world keeps spinning." Mira stood, brushing off her knees. "Besides, you've survived worse than a dinner party."
"This isn't just a dinner party. It's—"
"A formal gathering where every important wolf in the territory will be watching you, judging you, and waiting for you to fail?" Mira grinned. "Like I said. A dinner party."
The great hall had been transformed.
Long tables draped in white linen. Candles flickering in silver holders. Crystal glasses catching the light. The smell of roasted meat and expensive wine. Wolves in their finest, gathered in clusters, their conversations falling to whispers as Cora entered.
Damien was beside her. His hand rested on the small of her back. He wore black, as always, the suit cutting sharp lines against his frame.
"Breathe," he murmured against her ear.
"I am breathing."
"You're holding your breath."
She exhaled slowly. He was right.
They moved through the room together. Wolves inclined their heads as they passed — respect for the Alpha, curiosity for his mate. Some gazes were warm. Most were not.
Cora kept her chin up. Met their eyes when they stared.
I belong here,she told herself. *I belong here because he chose me.*
She almost believed it.
Then she saw Seraphina.
Black gown that pooled at her feet like spilled ink. Hair swept up to expose the pale column of her throat. Dark eyes that tracked Cora's movement across the room with the patience of a predator watching prey.
She smiled when their eyes met. A small, knowing curve of her lips.
I'm still here, that smile said. I'm not going anywhere.
Cora looked away first. Hated herself for it.
Damien guided her to the head table. The elevated platform where the Alpha and Luna sat, visible to everyone.
"I have to speak with Elder Ashford," Damien said quietly as they reached their seats. "A border dispute that can't wait. Will you be alright for a few minutes?"
No. "Yes."
His eyes searched her face. Whatever he saw there made his jaw tighten.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
He pressed a brief kiss to her temple, a public claim and then he was gone. Moving through the crowd toward a cluster of older wolves near the back of the hall.
Cora sat alone at the head table.
The whispers started immediately.
she heard the footstep.
Three women approaching the head table. Dressed in finery, jewels glittering, smiles fixed in place. The leader was older, silver threading through dark hair, sharp features, the kind of beauty that had hardened with age.
Lady Irina Ashford. Elder Ashford's wife.
Cora had heard the name in passing.
"Luna." The title dripped from Irina's tongue like poison disguised as honey. "How lovely to finally speak with you properly."
Cora inclined her head. "Lady Ashford."
"I must say, you clean up remarkably well." Irina's eyes swept over her — the dress, the jewelry, the careful styling. "One would almost forget you were serving drinks just weeks ago."
The women behind her tittered. Soft, polite laughter.
Cora's fingers curled beneath the table. "I'm grateful for the Alpha's generosity."
"Generosity. Yes." Irina's smile widened. "That's certainly one word for it. Though I wonder how long such... generosity... tends to last."
The insult was wrapped in silk, but the blade was there.
The implication clear — she was temporary. A plaything. A novelty the Alpha would tire of.
"The mate bond is eternal," Cora said evenly. "Or so I've been told."
"The bond, yes. But bonds can be... complicated." Irina leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for nearby wolves to hear. "Especially when one half of the bond is so clearly mismatched. A human — forgive me, a witch — with no training, no lineage worth speaking of, no understanding of our ways." She tilted her head. "One has to wonder what exactly the Alpha sees in you. Beyond the obvious, of course."
Beyond the obvious. A bed warmer. That's what she was implying.
Cora's blood heated. Something flickered in her chest — that warmth she'd felt before. Her power stirring.
"Perhaps," Cora said slowly, "he sees someone who doesn't hide her claws behind pretty words."
Irina's smile faltered. Just for a second.
"My dear, I'm simply concerned for the pack. A Luna must be strong. Capable. Able to lead if necessary." Her eyes glittered. "Can you honestly say you're any of those things?"
The room had gone quiet.
Cora could feel it, the attention shifting, the wolves tuning in, sensing conflict. Even Seraphina had turned to watch, that small smile playing on her lips.
Everyone was waiting to see what the Luna would do.
Run,part of her whispered. Hide. You don't belong here.
But another part the part that had survived St. Jude's, survived Abernathy, survived everything this world had thrown at her, that part refused to bend.
"You mistake silence for weakness," Cora said. Her voice was quiet, but it carried. "That's a dangerous assumption."
Irina's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"You asked if I'm strong enough to be Luna." Cora rose from her seat Slowly. "I grew up with nothing. No family. No protection. No one coming to save me. I survived things that would have broken most people. I'm still standing."
She stepped around the table. Closer to Irina. Close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in the older woman's eyes.
"So before you question my strength, Lady Ashford, ask yourself — could you have survived what I did?"
Something shifted in the air.
Like the moment before lightning strikes.
Cora felt it building in her chest — that warmth expanding, pushing outward. Her skin prickled. The candles on the nearest table flickered wildly.
Outside the tall windows, shadows gathered. Moving and Watching.
Birds.
Dozens of them. Then hundreds. Crows and sparrows and hawks, pressing against the glass, their dark eyes fixed on the scene inside. Silent at first. Then the crows began to caw — a harsh, unsettling chorus.
The wolves nearest the windows stepped back. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Irina's face had gone pale. She was staring at the birds, then at Cora, understanding dawning in her expression.
Witch.
Cora didn't look at the windows. Didn't acknowledge what was happening. Just held Irina's gaze with a calm she didn't entirely feel.
"I'm still standing here," she said softly. "And you're the one who stepped back."
Irina had retreated. A single step, unconscious, her body responding to the threat her mind was still processing.
The room was silent. Even the birds had stopped their cawing.
Then Cora turned and walked toward the doors. Head high.
She didn't look back.
The garden air hit her like cold water.
Cora walked until she couldn't see the windows anymore, until the sounds of the gathering faded to nothing. Then she stopped. Braced her hands on her knees. Breathed.
Her whole body was shaking.
The birds followed her. They settled in the trees around the garden, on the hedges, on the stone benches.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
They didn't answer, Of course they didn't. They were just birds.
Except they weren't. They'd come to her. Answered something she hadn't consciously called.
Her power was growing. And she had no idea how to control it.
She sank onto a bench, her legs refusing to hold her any longer. The burgundy dress pooled around her feet. The Luna's jewels felt heavy on her throat.