ELIRA POV
The snow falls wrong here.
At Riverside, snow is soft. Gentle. It comes down in small flakes that melt when they touch your skin. The snow of Northwood is different. It's thick and heavy and relentless, falling sideways like it's angry about being alive.
The carriage stops and I don't need anyone to tell me why. This is the final camp. Beyond those black gates is Northwood territory. Beyond those gates is the man I'm about to marry.
I press my forehead against the cold window and try to remember how to breathe.
The scarred rider from my father's house opens the carriage door and the wind hits me like a living thing. It steals the air from my lungs. It carries the smell of pine and smoke and something wild I don't have a name for.
"He's here," the rider says simply.
My heart stops.
I step out of the carriage on legs that don't feel like they belong to me anymore. The cold air bites through my traveling cloak. My hands go numb instantly. This cold is nothing like home. This cold doesn't forgive weakness.
And then I see him.
He emerges from the winter like the cold itself took shape and learned to walk on two legs.
Kade Ashford is taller than the messenger who brought his letter. Taller than my father. Taller than any man I've ever seen. His black hair is loose around his shoulders and dusted with snow. His jaw is sharp enough to cut. His eyes are so dark they look black, and when they land on me, I feel like prey.
This is the man who wrote that I shouldn't believe anything my father told me.
This is the man I'm supposed to spend my life with.
He steps closer and I force myself not to back away. The scarred rider watches us both like he's waiting to see if I'll run. Maybe I should. Maybe that's the smart choice.
But I'm frozen.
Kade looks at me like he's looking at inventory in a warehouse. Like he's assessing value and finding me useful but ordinary. His eyes move from my face to my dress to my shoes and back again. It's not cruel exactly. It's just indifferent. Like I'm a piece of property he's already decided what to do with.
"You're smaller than I expected," he says.
His voice is rough. Deep. It sounds like it's traveled through gravel to reach me.
I don't know how to respond to that. I'm not small. I'm average. But standing in front of this man, I feel like I've shrunk. Like the cold has frozen me smaller.
I do what my governess taught me to do when meeting someone important. I curtsy.
The movement is automatic. Ingrained. My right leg bends, my back curves, my head dips in the gesture that's supposed to show respect. I've done it a thousand times in my father's house. It's supposed to be graceful.
His jaw tightens.
Something flickers across his face so fast I almost miss it. Anger maybe. Disgust maybe. Something sharp that makes me regret the curtsy immediately.
"Don't do that," he says.
"Do what?"
"Bow to me. I don't want a servant. I want a wife who doesn't flinch every time I'm in the room."
The words hit different than they should. He's not asking for affection. He's not asking for love. He's asking for something practical. A wife who can stand beside him without shaking. A woman who can survive the cold of his world.
I straighten and try to look less terrified.
He steps closer and the wind carries his scent. Pine and smoke and something underneath that makes my body react before my brain can catch up. My pulse quickens. My skin warms despite the cold.
He reaches out and touches my cheek with the back of his hand.
It's gentle. It shouldn't be gentle. But it is.
His skin is warm. Mine is ice. For a second we exist in that contrast, his warmth against my cold, and I forget that he's supposed to kill me. I forget about the letter. I forget about the warning he sent.
Then his eyes go dark and something shifts in his expression. Something sharper than before. Not quite cruel but not kind either.
"The bonding ceremony is in two hours," he says quietly. "It will hurt."
He doesn't explain what hurt means. He doesn't tell me what the ceremony involves. He just leaves that word hanging in the air between us like a threat.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
But he's already turning away. His boots crunch in the snow as he walks back toward the gates. The scarred rider doesn't meet my eyes as he helps me back into the carriage.
The ride to the ceremony chambers feels like descending into hell.
The Northwood compound is massive. Larger than anything in Riverside. Stone and iron and architecture designed to intimidate. It rises from the snow like it's daring the cold to touch it. Warriors stand at every corner. Their eyes follow the carriage as we pass, and I see something in those eyes that makes my skin crawl. Hunger maybe. Curiosity maybe.
They're wondering what I am.
A healer meets me in chambers that smell like smoke and stone. She's older, with gray in her hair and kind eyes that seem out of place in this cold territory.
"I'm here to help you prepare," she says gently. "For the ceremony."
She brings me to a bathing room where water steams in a stone basin. She adds oils that smell like flowers. Like Riverside. Like home. I want to cry but I don't. Crying won't help.
The dress is waiting when I'm clean.
White silk. Expensive. Beautiful in the way that dead things are sometimes beautiful. It hangs in the room like a ghost waiting to be worn. The healer helps me into it and I feel myself disappearing. The girl from Riverside is gone. In her place is a bride.
In her place is a sacrifice.
My hands shake as I fasten the clasps. The dress is tight around my waist. It's designed to be worn by a woman who's beautiful and confident and ready for this moment. I'm wearing it while terrified and cold and wondering if Kade meant what he said about it hurting.
The pendant sits against my collarbone. My mother's pendant. The one thing I'm allowed to keep from my old life.
I touch it for courage and it doesn't help.
The ceremony chamber is carved from stone that's black as night. Torches line the walls, casting shadows that dance like they're alive. There are people everywhere. Warriors. Council members. Everyone watching to see what the new Luna looks like.
I walk down the aisle and every eye in the room tracks my movement.
Kade stands at the altar.
He's changed clothes. He wears black leather and silver wolf clasps. His hair is bound back. His expression is carved from ice.
And when his eyes meet mine, I feel like I'm drowning.
Because for one second, just one second, I see something underneath that icy exterior. Something hungry and desperate and almost broken. His dark eyes soften for a moment like he's seeing something that surprises him.
Then the walls come back up.
His expression hardens into stone. His jaw clenches. He straightens like he's pulling himself together, forcing himself back into control.
An older man approaches us. The ceremony master. He wears white robes and carries a knife. A silver knife that catches the torchlight.
"The bonding requires a blood exchange," the ceremony master explains quietly. "It will hurt. But it will bind you to each other. Magically. Permanently. You'll feel each other's presence. You'll know each other's pain."
He looks at me like he's apologizing for something.
"The Alpha has been waiting for this moment for years," the ceremony master continues. "For a bride. For a Luna. For someone to stand beside him. Make sure you're ready. Because in a few minutes, everything changes."
I look at Kade and he's watching me with an expression I can't read.
His jaw works. His hands clench and unclench. It's like he's fighting himself about something. Like every second this moment stretches, he's becoming less sure of what he wants to do.
The ceremony master raises the silver knife.
"Are you ready?" he asks Kade.
Kade doesn't answer immediately. He looks at me. Really looks at me. And in that moment before the ceremony begins, before everything changes, I see something break in his eyes.
Like he just realized something terrible.
Like he just understood what he's about to do to me.
"Begin," he says finally.
And the knife comes down.