The kitchen smelled like burning bread and panic.
"Aria, stop murdering the dough."
I looked up from the sticky mass in my hands. Lila glared at me from across the long wooden table, dark hair escaping her braid, flour smeared across her cheek like war paint.
"I'm not murdering it," I said. "I'm… disciplining it."
"You're tearing it," she said. "And Mrs. Hawthorn said if you ruin another batch, she'll personally volunteer you for latrine duty during mating season."
I winced. "She wouldn't."
"She would," Lila said. "She doesn't bluff."
The head cook—broad shouldered, greying, eternally unimpressed—slammed the oven door closed with a clang that made the whole kitchen flinch.
"Aria," Mrs. Hawthorn barked without looking. "If that loaf looks like something even a rogue wouldn't eat, you'll be scrubbing blood out of the training sand tomorrow."
"Yes, Mrs. Hawthorn," I said automatically.
This was not how the morning of my supposed Luna ceremony was meant to go.
By now, according to half the pack, I should've been wrapped in silk, having my hair braided with silver thread while elders whispered blessings over me.
Instead, I was on my third attempt at a simple loaf while omegas whispered a different type of prophecy:
"Future Luna can't bake to save her life."
"Future Luna works in the kitchen. Maybe the Moon changed Her mind."
Everyone assumed tonight, under the full Moon, I'd officially become Caden's mate. Alpha and Luna, neatly tied like a bow on top of Silver Ridge.
But I wasn't Luna. Not yet. And until the Moon made that choice, I was just Aria, the late-blooming beta's daughter with the wrong kind of reputation and the right kind of bloodline.
I finished shaping the loaf and slid it onto the tray. Mrs. Hawthorn inspected it like she was judging a battle wound.
"Not terrible," she grunted finally. "A small miracle."
"I live to amaze," I muttered.
Lila tried to smother a laugh. Mrs. Hawthorn's sharp eyes cut toward us, and Lila coughed hard enough to sound innocent.
"Aria," Mrs. Hawthorn said, jabbing a dough-covered finger in my direction. "After this batch, you're done. Go rest. The Moon doesn't like Her sacrifices exhausted."
I frowned. "Lunas aren't sacrifices."
"Everyone's a sacrifice to something," she said. "You're just fancier."
It wasn't the most comforting thing I'd heard.
Lila sidled closer as Mrs. Hawthorn turned away. "So," she whispered. "Have you picked a dress yet?"
"I own exactly two dresses that aren't work clothes," I said. "It's not much of a choice."
"Blue," she said firmly. "The white makes you look like a terrified ghost."
"I am a terrified ghost."
"You're going to be Luna," Lila said, smacking my arm with the back of her spoon. "You can't be a ghost. You have to be terrifying."
"I can do terrified," I said. "The rest is a stretch."
Before Lila could answer, the back door swung open, letting in a rush of cold air and pine-scent.
The entire kitchen stilled.
Caden walked in like he owned the room. To be fair, as Alpha, he technically did.
He wasn't the biggest alpha I'd ever seen, but he moved like every inch of him knew exactly where it belonged. Golden-brown hair, broad shoulders, lean muscle—he looked like a painting of what an alpha should be, if paintings could growl orders and rip out throats.
His scent hit me a second later—pine, crisp wind, something warm and dark underneath—and my wolf, usually pacing restlessly in the back of my mind, shoved forward so fast I almost stumbled.
"Alpha Caden," Mrs. Hawthorn said, bowing her head. Several kitchen staff followed suit.
He nodded briefly, eyes sweeping the room. When they reached me, my heart did something weak and embarrassing in my chest.
For one second, his gaze softened. Then it was gone, replaced with the cool, distant look he'd worn ever since taking his father's place.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "My mother wanted to make sure preparations are… under control."
Mrs. Hawthorn sniffed. "You can tell your mother the bread is fine. The stew will not embarrass the pack. And no, I'm not making the honey-glazed rolls she likes because we are not a decorative court—we're a working territory."
One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll… adjust expectations."
Lila elbowed me. "Go talk to him," she hissed. "This is your moment. Alpha in the kitchen. Future Luna with flour on her face. It's fate."
"That's not how fate works," I muttered, but my feet were already moving.
"Aria," Caden said as I approached, his voice like a firm hand on the back of my neck. "You shouldn't be here."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Hello to you too."
"You should be resting," he said. "Tonight is—"
"I know what tonight is," I snapped. "The Moon hasn't exactly been quiet about it."
He frowned. "You haven't tried on the dress yet."
Ah. That.
A plain box, wrapped in pale blue paper, had appeared on my bed that morning, courtesy of his mother. I hadn't opened it. Not because I didn't care, but because opening it felt like… accepting something I wasn't ready to admit I wanted.
"I've been busy," I said weakly, gesturing at the conquered bread.
"You've been hiding," he corrected. "Aria. This isn't one of your training sessions you can skip."
"Wow," I said. "Thank you for comparing our potential fated bond to sparring practice."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "You know I didn't—"
"I know you've been avoiding me for a year," I cut in. "So forgive me if I'm not rushing to play dress-up for the Moon."
The kitchen had gone almost silent. Lila stared at the ceiling. Mrs. Hawthorn pretended to slam pots louder.
Caden's gaze flicked briefly to our audience, then back to me. His voice lowered. "Not here."
"Where then?" I whispered. "You're always 'Alpha' now. Never Caden. Never my friend."
His expression cracked for half a second. "It's not that simple."
"It used to be," I said. "Before your father died. Before the council decided I was a convenient future Luna. Before everyone started acting like the Moon owed us a bond."
He stepped closer, close enough that his scent wrapped around me. My wolf pressed against my ribs, desperate and hopeful.
"Try the dress," he said, softer now. "Please. And rest. Tonight… whatever happens, you'll need your strength."
My throat tightened. "Whatever happens?"
His gaze searched mine like he wanted to say more. Then something shuttered behind his eyes.
"Mrs. Hawthorn," he said, stepping back. "Release her from duty for the day."
"Was planning to," she grunted. "She's a terrible baker."
He almost smiled. "She's good at other things."
Then he left, the door swinging shut behind him.
The kitchen exhaled.
Lila sidled up, eyebrows in her hairline. "Well."
"Don't start," I said.
"You're in love with him," she sing-songed under her breath.
"I'm in love with the idea of him," I corrected. "The version who didn't tell me to rest like I'm a broken cart."
She sobered. "He's under pressure, Aria. The council. The borders. The ceremony. You know that."
"I know," I said. "Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
Mrs. Hawthorn slammed a pan onto the table in front of me. "Go," she ordered. "Before you drip teen angst into my dough. Try on the damn dress. If the Moon chose you for him, standing in your underclothes won't change it."
"Very spiritual," I muttered.
Lila grinned. "Want help with hair later?"
"Maybe," I said. "If I don't run away into the forest and become a swamp witch first."
"If you do, take me with you."
I tried to smile. It came out crooked.
Our rooms were on the second floor of the main house, near the balcony overlooking the training grounds. I paused there, elbows on the railing, looking down.
Caden was in the center of the practice yard, sparring with our best fighter. No shirt. Just sweat, scars, and motion.
He moved like water around a rock—fluid, relentless, impossible to pin down. Every time his opponent lunged, Caden flowed away, then slammed back in twice as hard. The observing warriors shouted encouragement; even from here, I could feel their pride.
The future of the pack. Our alpha. My maybe-mate.
My chest ached.
My father—tall, broad, silver at his temples now—stood at the edge of the circle, arms crossed, watching with a calculating eye only a seasoned beta could wear.
He glanced up suddenly, sensing me. Our gazes met. His face softened for a moment, then he gave me a tiny nod, the kind that said: You're stronger than you think. Keep walking.
So I did.
The box waited on my bed like a patient predator.
Inside, the dress was pale blue silk, fine and soft as water. When I held it up, it shimmered in the dim light, tiny silver threads catching along the hem in a pattern of crescent moons and leaves.
It was beautiful. It was heavy. It was not meant for a girl who burned bread.
I stepped into it anyway.
The fabric slid over my skin with a sigh, settling into place like it had been sewn to my bones. When I turned to the mirror, for a second I didn't recognize myself.
No flour. No work clothes. Just a girl with dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders, eyes too big and too dark, wearing a dress that belonged to someone important.
"Luna," I whispered to the empty room, testing the word.
My wolf stirred, uncertain.
A sharp pain speared suddenly between my eyes. I gasped, clutching my head.
White light flashed behind my lids. The room dissolved.
For a heartbeat, I was somewhere else.
A forest. Not ours. Darker. Colder. The air tasted of iron and snow. Overhead, not one Moon but three hung heavy in the sky, their pale bodies overlapping like a twisted constellation.
Under their light stood three silhouettes.
One familiar in the lines of his shoulders, the proud set of his jaw: Caden.
Two others, strangers. One tall, broad, burning like a storm held in a bottle. The other stiller, colder, presence coiled like a snake at rest.
All three looked at me.
A voice slid through the trees, soft and wrong, echoing inside my skull instead of my ears.
Forsaken by one… desired by many…
My wolf snarled, suddenly wide awake.
I staggered back, ripping myself free from the vision like tearing skin. My knees hit the floor. The dress whispered around me in a pool of blue.
My heart hammered. Sweat slicked my spine.
"What," I panted to no one, "was that?"
The only answer was the distant sound of the training horns, calling the pack to midday drills.
And the faint, impossible feeling that somewhere beyond our borders, under a different sky, two other hearts had just kicked harder in their chests—like they'd heard my name without knowing it.
I looked down at the dress in my lap, silk crumpled in my shaking hands.
Tonight, the Moon would decide my fate with one mate.
But the shadows under that triple sky already knew better.
Somewhere, three threads had begun to spin.
And if I was in the center of them…
Then I wasn't just becoming Luna.
I was becoming a problem the whole world would have to survive.