The Moonblood Palace was quieter than usual that night, but it was not the calm of peace ,it was the stillness before a storm.
Natalie sat alone in the royal library, her fingers trailing absently over the spine of a book she hadn't been reading. A thousand thoughts crowded her mind: the envoy's threat, Selene's refusal, the unspoken danger that now hung over the pack like a shroud.
The door opened without warning. Queen Elara stepped inside, her gown whispering against the polished floor. She did not waste time on pleasantries.
"Your sister has made her choice," she said.
Natalie closed the book, her eyes meeting her mother's. "She refused."
"Yes," Elara replied evenly. "And now the Alpha will still expect a bride… one who can stand in her place."
A cold shiver ran down Natalie's spine. "You mean—"
"I mean," the Queen interrupted, "that you will take her place."
The words seemed to echo through the vast room, settling heavy in Natalie's chest.
"Mother, I—"
"This is not a matter of choice, Natalie," Elara's tone sharpened. "The King's army could wipe our pack from the map. If the Northern Court sees weakness, they will exploit it. This marriage is the only shield we have."
Natalie's hands curled into fists. "And Selene gets to walk free?"
"She is the heir," Elara said without hesitation. "Her safety ensures the stability of our rule. You, however…" She let the sentence trail off, as though the rest didn't matter.
It stung, but it wasn't new. Natalie had lived her life knowing she was second, the spare, the shadow.
"And if I refuse?" Natalie asked quietly.
Her mother's gaze was steady, calculating. "Then you will be the one to bear the consequences when the Northern Court's armies arrive at our pack. And make no mistake, they will arrive."
The truth in those words pressed down on Natalie like a weight. She thought of the villages scattered along the borders, the wolf pups who played in the market squares, the guards who'd sworn loyalty to the crown. If she refused, it wouldn't just be her life at risk ,it would be theirs as well.
"You've already decided," she said at last, her voice flat.
Elara stepped closer, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from Natalie's face. "This is your duty, daughter. And in fulfilling it, you will protect your people."
But there was no warmth in the gesture, no softness in her eyes. Only the cold precision of a queen who saw her daughter as a pawn on the board.
Later that night, Natalie found Selene in their shared balcony chamber. Her twin was leaning against the railing, the moonlight catching in her silver hair, making her look ethereal.
"You know," Selene said without turning, "he'll hate you."
Natalie froze in the doorway. "What?"
"The Alpha," Selene clarified, her tone almost lazy. "He wanted a princess with charm, beauty, and the kind of grace that makes men forget their own names. Instead, he'll get you."
The words struck hard, but Natalie refused to give Selene the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. "Then perhaps he'll learn to value something other than a pretty face."
Selene laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're walking into a cage, Natalie. A cold, bloodstained cage. And the worst part? You'll lock the door yourself."
"Better me than our people," Natalie said firmly.
Selene finally turned, her smile small and sharp. "That's the difference between us. You'd bleed for them. I'd make them bleed for me."
Natalie met her gaze, seeing the truth in those words — and the gulf that had always existed between them.
---
The next morning, the answer was delivered to Lord Maelor.
In the grand hall, before the nobles and court advisors, Queen Elara stood tall and regal. "The Moonblood Pack accepts the Northern Court's proposal. My daughter will be the bride of Alpha Damien."
The words rang out like a bell tolling a sentence.
Maelor inclined his head, his eyes briefly meeting Natalie's. "The King will be… pleased."
Natalie said nothing. She stood with her back straight, her hands hidden in the folds of her gown so no one would see them tremble.
---
That night, she lay awake, listening to the wind rattle against the balcony doors. Somewhere far to the north, a ruthless Alpha awaited her arrival. An Alpha with blood on his hands, an army at his back… and an illness whispered about in fearful tones.
She didn't know whether she was marching toward a throne or a grave.
Perhaps both.