Cecelia POV:
A plain carriage delivered me to the gates of Prince Jude's castle. It was larger and more menacing than I had imagined, a beast of gray stone hunched against the bruised twilight sky.
No one came to greet me.
Only a sharp-featured Beta werewolf, his posture rigid with disapproval.
"I am Alastair Reynolds," he said, his voice clipped. "The castle steward."
His gaze passed over me, briefly lingering on my plain dress and scarred face. The coldness in his eyes made it clear that I was nothing more than a duty he had to fulfill. "Follow me. The ceremony is about to begin."
He led me directly to the grand hall. A handful of guests were scattered amongst the pews, their dark clothing making the event feel more like a funeral than a wedding.
An elderly woman named Agnes Miller, the presiding elder, stood before the altar. Her expression was grim. She gave me a slight nod, a flicker of pity in her eyes.
Alastair escorted me to the front. "As the prince is... no longer with us," he said calmly, a faint trace of amusement hidden in his eyes, "you will complete the binding with his ceremonial dagger."
On a velvet cushion atop the stone altar lay a silver dagger. A sapphire glittered in its pommel, and the Montgomery wolf sigil was etched into the hilt.
A dagger for a husband.
A cold anger rose within me. This was not merely an insult. They had stripped away my identity and treated me as nothing more than an offering for a dead prince. To them, even Jude’s ceremonial dagger held more value than I did.
Agnes began the ancient rites, her voice a low drone in the cavernous hall. The guests whispered behind their hands. I could feel their eyes on me—a mix of pity, curiosity, and morbid amusement.
"Now, Cecelia Kensington," Agnes said, her voice softening slightly. "Take the prince's sigil, and let the Moon Goddess bear witness to your union."
I reached for the dagger. My fingertips hovered inches from the cold metal.
Alastair's smile widened slightly. He seemed to take pleasure in the scene before him, as if this moment was the humiliation he had been waiting to witness.
The moment my skin was about to touch the silver, I snatched my hand back.
I took a step backward.
"No."
The word, quiet but clear, dropped into the silence like a stone. The whispering stopped. Every head turned toward me.
Agnes paused, her eyes wide with surprise. "What did you say, child?"
Alastair's smile vanished. He moved toward me, hissing under his breath. "Do you have any idea what you are doing? This is a command from the Alpha King!"
I turned to face him, meeting his furious gaze. My voice was steady, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"The Alpha King commanded me to bind with Jude Montgomery," I said. "Not with a piece of iron."
I let my words sink in before continuing. "I was named this prince's Mate. The future Luna of this house. By the laws of our people, I am to be afforded the respect of that station. To substitute an Alpha with a dagger is a blasphemy. An insult to the prince, to the House of Montgomery, and to the Moon Goddess herself."
I had spent the carriage ride memorizing the oldest texts on pack law. I knew that tradition was the only weapon that could defeat a man like Alastair.
"You..." He sputtered, his face flushing a deep red. He had no counter-argument.
I pressed my advantage, taking another step forward until he was forced to look up at me. "Or perhaps, Steward Reynolds, you believe you have the authority to reinterpret the King's command and the Goddess's law?"
The accusation hung in the air. It was a weight too heavy for a mere Beta steward to bear. The color drained from his face.
The guests were no longer looking at me like a pathetic creature. They were looking at me like a player in the game.
A hint of approval warmed Agnes's eyes. She cleared her throat. "The ceremony is suspended. We must reconsider."
She moved to my side, her voice a low murmur meant only for me. "You did the right thing, child. No one can force a Luna to accept an incomplete rite."
In that moment, she acknowledged my title.
I gave her a grateful nod, then turned my attention back to the pale, furious steward. "Mr. Reynolds, please arrange for my rooms. As the future mistress of this castle, I believe I have the right to know where I will be staying."
My tone was polite, but it held the unyielding edge of a command.
Alastair gritted his teeth. "... This way," he bit out.
He led me in silence through long, drafty corridors. I could feel the anger radiating from his back.
The room he brought me to was in the west wing, far from the heart of the castle. It was small, cold, and sparsely furnished.
"Your room, 'my lady,'" he said, the title dripping with sarcasm.
I ignored his petty jab, surveying the space. "Excellent. I am not to be disturbed. By anyone."
He left, slamming the door behind him.
I let out the breath I had been holding. The first step was done. I had refused to lower my head before them and forced them to acknowledge my presence.
But this was only the beginning. I leaned against the door, letting my eyes sweep over the unfamiliar room. This castle was not my home. Every person inside it had their own motives, and I could not afford to trust anyone yet.
