The feast was supposed to be a celebration.
Shadowfang's great hall blazed with torches, tables groaning beneath roasted boar, venison stew, and dark wine. Warriors from both packs mingled, laughing too loudly, toasting the new "unity." To anyone else, it looked like peace.
To Lyra, it was a performance.
She sat at Kael's side on the high dais, every eye on them. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her posture perfect, her smile polite. To the crowd, she was the picture of a dutiful Omega mate. But her nails bit into her palms beneath the table.
Kael played his part as well. He drank sparingly, nodded at speeches, even placed a hand lightly on the back of her chair for appearances' sake. To the hall, it looked like affection. To Lyra, it was a brand.
"Smile," Kael murmured, his voice a low growl meant only for her.
She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. "Why don't you try it? You might look less like a wolf about to bite someone's throat."
His jaw flexed, but his smirk was almost convincing. "Careful. The pack believes we're in love."
Lyra's smile widened, all teeth. "Then let's not disappoint them, mate."
She lifted her goblet, tilting it toward his. He tapped his cup against hers, the hollow sound sharp in the hall.
From below, she heard the whispers. Perhaps this will last. Perhaps the Goddess was right.
If only they knew the truth: that the moment the feast ended, their masks would come off, and the war would resume.
Later that night, in their chamber, the fragile act shattered.
Lyra threw off the jeweled circlet that dug into her scalp. "If one more person congratulates us, I'll scream."
Kael tugged at his tunic laces, tossing the garment aside. "Get used to it. They'll see what they want to see. That's the point."
She glared at him. "The point is peace. Not deception."
He turned, bare chest catching firelight, his expression unreadable. "Peace is deception. An illusion we craft so no one notices the blade at their throat."
Her wolf bristled. "You don't believe this will work."
"I believe," Kael said, stepping closer, "that a bond forced by prophecy is a chain. One we'll both try to break."
The space between them crackled, bond tugging like a live wire. Lyra's breath caught despite her anger, her body betraying her. She stepped back, spine hitting the wall.
Kael's eyes darkened, his voice a whisper. "Tell me, Omega. If you hate me so much… why does your wolf tremble when I'm near?"
Lyra's throat tightened, fury warring with the heat that flared low in her belly. "Because even wolves are cursed by instinct. Don't mistake it for desire."
Kael's smirk was sharp as a blade. He leaned close, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. "Good. Because desire is the last thing I'd waste on you."
And yet neither of them moved for a long, dangerous moment, caught in the tension between denial and something far darker.