ELIRA POV
The letter burns in my pocket worse than the pendant burns against my chest.
I read it seventeen times on the first day of travel and the words don't make more sense. Your father's peace is a lie. Everything changes tomorrow. The handwriting is sharp like the man himself must be sharp. Like he cuts through things instead of working around them.
The carriage rocks beneath me as we move deeper into territory I don't recognize. Familiar trees from Riverside give way to white forest. The snow gets thicker. The air gets colder. The world I knew shrinks behind us with every mile.
I sit between my father's advisor, Edmund, and a pack healer named Marcus who smells like herbs and something sweeter underneath. Both of them are here to make sure I arrive in one piece. Both of them are watching me.
Edmund keeps glancing at the letter in my hands like he knows something. His jaw is tight. His fingers drum against his leg in a pattern that matches the carriage wheels. Nervous. That's what he is. My father's right hand is nervous about sending me to Northwood.
That doesn't help.
Marcus tries to fill the silence with stories. He talks about pack unity like it's a beautiful thing. He talks about honorable marriages and strong Lunas and how the Alpha will be fortunate to have me. His voice is soft and kind and completely full of lies.
I smile politely and don't listen.
What I listen to instead is the sound of the snow crunching under the carriage wheels. What I listen to is Edmund's breathing. What I listen to is the muffled voices of the riders outside, discussing routes and distances and whether we'll make good time.
Nobody mentions the letter.
That night we camp in tents that smell like travel and sweat. Edmund and Marcus share one. I'm given my own because apparently even in a caravan, the soon-to-be Luna gets privacy. The irony is bitter. I get privacy for the next three days. After that, I get none.
I sit on the bedroll and read Kade's letter again by candlelight.
Your father's peace is a lie.
I keep getting stuck on that word. Lie. Not mistake. Not misunderstanding. Lie. Like my father knew something wasn't right and he did it anyway. Like he sent me here knowing the ground beneath my feet might not be solid.
The letter doesn't explain what the lie is. It just plants the seed and watches me grow paranoid in the dark.
When I finally sleep, I dream about wolves.
The second day is worse because I start thinking about Kade Ashford in ways I wasn't thinking before. I know he's powerful. Everyone knows that. Northwood is one of the strongest packs in the entire territory and he built it from rubble after his father died. Powerful in a way that sounds like violence.
I know he's cold. The riders who came to collect me had frost in their eyes and scars on their skin and they looked at me like I was a problem to be delivered. If the Alpha's guards are like that, what is the Alpha like?
I know he lost his father ten years ago to violence. That's the one thing everyone whispers about when they think I'm not listening. The Riverside Alpha, the one before my father, was responsible. Or at least that's the story. That's the thing that made two packs enemies.
Nothing else.
I don't know his voice. I don't know his face except that he's tall and dark and dangerous. I don't know if he actually wants me there or if I'm just part of a strategy. I don't know if he's the kind of man who keeps his promises or if he breaks them when it suits him.
I don't know anything about the man I'm supposed to marry tomorrow.
Marcus sits across from me and starts talking about Kade's pack again. He's trying to be helpful. I can see it in his eyes. He's trying to prepare me for something that can't be prepared for.
"The Alpha is strict," Marcus says carefully. "But he's fair. He cares about his people."
My people weren't his people. That's the part he doesn't say out loud.
"Will he hurt me?" I ask.
The question surprises both of us. Edmund stops his nervous finger tapping. Marcus stops mid-breath. They exchange a look that's heavy with things they can't say.
"No," Marcus says finally. "The Alpha wants this treaty. He won't do anything to jeopardize it."
That's not the same as saying he won't hurt me. That's just saying he won't hurt me if it would cost him something.
I fold the letter and put it back in my pocket.
The third day arrives like a funeral. We wake early and pack faster than we did on the other days. There's an urgency now. We're close. Close enough that everyone can feel it. Close enough that I can feel my heart starting to move wrong in my chest.
The scarred rider who gave me the letter rides up beside the carriage window and tells us we'll reach the border camp by evening. From there, it's just hours until Northwood territory. Just hours until I'm married.
I watch the forest change. The white snow gets deeper. The trees get darker. The sky gets heavier like something is pressing down on it from above. This is the North. This is where I'm going to live. This is what I chose by being born to the wrong father.
By evening, the caravan stops at a clearing that's been set up as a camp. There are tents already arranged. Fires already burning. It's like they've been expecting us, which they have. My father sent word ahead. Northwood has known exactly when I'd arrive.
Edmund helps me down from the carriage and my legs are shaky from three days of sitting. The ground feels unreal beneath my feet. The air tastes like metal and pine.
Marcus guides me to a tent and tells me I should rest. Tomorrow comes early. Tomorrow everything changes. I nod like I haven't spent the last three days already knowing that.
I lie on a bedroll that's softer than the ones we've been using and I stare at the tent ceiling and I think about what Kade said. Everything changes tomorrow. Including you.
What does that mean exactly. Including you. Like I'm separate from the changes. Like I'm going to transform into something else just by being in his territory. Like a girl who reads books and listens at doors is going to become a Luna by virtue of proximity to power.
Sleep doesn't come.
I lay there listening to the camp sounds. Horses. Fire. Men talking quietly about routes and supplies. The normal sounds of travel.
Then the sounds change.
The voices outside go quiet in a way that's different from quiet. It's the kind of quiet that happens when someone important arrives. The kind of quiet that's full of respect and fear mixed together.
I sit up.
Edmund appears at the tent entrance with his face carefully neutral, but his hands are shaking.
"He's here," Edmund says.
My heart stops completely. It doesn't just slow down. It doesn't just race. It stops like it's forgotten how to beat.
"He wants to see you. Right now."
I stand on legs that don't feel like they belong to me. I smooth my dress even though there's no point. I touch my mother's pendant even though it won't help.
Outside the tent, the camp is arranged in a circle and there's a space in the middle where everyone is looking.
There's a horse. Black as the gates of Northwood. Built for power and speed and things that don't ask permission.
And on that horse is a man.
He's tall. That's the first thing I notice. Taller than he should be. Taller than anyone I've ever seen. Black hair. Sharp jaw. Eyes so dark they look like they've swallowed light instead of reflecting it.
He's wearing all black. Leather and steel and things that smell like battle. He looks like he's made of shadow and violence and things that don't belong in daylight.
He's looking at me.
His gaze is heavy enough that I feel it like a physical weight. Like he's touching me without moving. Like he's reading something inside me that I didn't know was written there.
He dismounts in one fluid movement. The scarred rider from before immediately appears to take his horse.
The Alpha of Northwood walks toward me.
My heart starts again. It's racing so fast I can feel it in my throat. My hands go cold. The pendant feels like it's burning a hole through my skin.
He stops in front of me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to see his face. Close enough that I can smell him. Snow and smoke and something dark underneath.
"You're the bride," he says.
His voice is rough like rocks grinding together. Like something broken and sharp. It doesn't sound like a question.
I nod because words stopped existing.
He reaches out and his hand is huge. His fingers brush my cheek and they're warm despite the cold. His touch is gentle which is somehow more terrifying than if it had been rough.
Something flickers across his face. An expression I can't read. It lasts one second. Then it's gone and his walls come back up.
"The ceremony is at midnight," he says. "Be ready."
Then he turns around and walks back to his horse without looking back.
As he rides away into the dark forest, I realize I'm holding my breath.
Edmund puts a hand on my shoulder.
"That," he whispers, "is the man you're about to marry."
The man who said everything changes tomorrow.