Tatia
They escorted me down through halls lined with watchful eyes as whispers followed. "The new bride." "Distant pack?" I kept my head high, and hoped the veil spell held.
The great hall opened, and I saw elders in robes circling a raised dais. And there, at the very center, stood Droko Thornveil standing tall and broad.
His presence hit like a storm. Dark hair tied back, eyes piercing green, jaw set in unyielding lines. He wore leather and fur, exuding raw power, the air around him was thick with dominance. Every wolf in the room deferred, heads bowed.
As soon as I stepped in, his intense gaze locked on me.
I stopped breathing.
"Tatia Duskbane," he said in the deepest voice I'd ever heard. "Approach."
I did, my knees keeping steady by will alone. Up close, his aura pressed in possessively, making my pulse thunder.
"Alpha," I replied, dipping my head.
"So," he said, his voice low and thick with command. "This is the girl my envoy has chosen."
His silver stare burned through me.
"Yes, my lord," the envoy answered.
Droko stepped closer, boots crunching in the gravel beneathour feet. "Look at me."
I forced my chin up, though my insincts screamed to refuse.
He circled me slowly, like a predator assessing prey. "You honor my pack by coming. Do you submit to the bond?"
I met his eyes, the weight of him was overwhelming. "I do."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Good. The ritual will seal it. Prove your worth, and you'll be mine."
The high priestess, stepped forward. "To the chalice first."
They led me to the dais as Droko watched silently. The silver cup gleamed as the elders chanted. "Spill your blood, reveal your truth."
I pricked my finger, letting the drops fall into the chalice. The liquid swirled, and swirled as magic rose. There was noise all around us but all I could hear was the massive thunderstorm in my heart.
I held my breath.
Then suddey, white light flickered... hesitant at first, then it steadied.
My veil held.
The relief that washed through me was so great, my knees buckled slightly.
The priestess nodded. "Pure."
"Now for the obedience," Droko said, voice like gravel. He gestured. "Kneel."
Then he asked, "Do you know what awaits you?"
"Yes."
Murmers beoke out within the pack. The envoy rushed to my side and hispered hastily, "My lord. You're to say 'yes, my lord'." Then he grabbed my wrist tight and hissed, "Do not embarrass me here."
I could feel my pride fighting against every survival instinct within me. They didn't just want a mate for their Alpha, these bastards wanted to turn me into his personal slave. And Tatia Duskbane was no one's slave.
But then my mind flashed to my mother lying sick on the bed. Then it went to my brother and sister, finally with enough food in their bellies.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed all pride. When I opened them, I looked Droko straight in his dark green eyes. "Yes, my lord."
The crowd seemed to hold its breath, waiting for a response.
His gaze lingered for a second. Then, to everyone's surprise, a small smile came spread across his mouth. "Taming you will be fun."
Suddenly, he turned and walked away. And I followed, my pulse thundering in my chest. The ritual chamber reeked of incense and blood. The Elders gathered in a circle and watched me, their eyes pale with power.
"Obedience first," one intoned.
And one by one, the commands begun to rain down. Kneel. Stand. Bow. Speak. Each one I obeyed, my pride burning in my chest, and my magic straining beneath my skin.
Then came the last.
An Elder stepped close, his nose almost brushing my neck, and he inhaled deeply.
His brows furrowed and he paused for a moment. Then he sniffed again, slower but deeper.
When his eyes snapped open, they were narrowed with suspicion.
"Something's wrong. This one…" His voice cut through the chamber. "This one doesn't smell like wolf."
I stopped breathing.
The hall fell silent, the kind of quiet that pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. No whispers, no shuffling feet. Just the echo of the elder's words hanging there. My blood ran cold as a trickle of sweat slid down my spine. The veil must have slipped, enough for his nose to catch the witch beneath.
Panic clawed at my throat, but I forced my face calm and kept my voice even as I lifted my chin.
"There must be some mistake," I said the words in an attempt to buy a few precious seconds. "The journey was long. Perhaps the scents of the road cling to me still."
The Elder bared his teeth. "Are you questioning my senses, girl?"
Inside my head, I was screaming, weaving, clawing desperately at the cracks in my magic. I visualized threads snapping back into place, knotting them tighter, cloaking myself again.
Hide the scent. Mask it layer after layer.
But outwardly, I bowed my head. "No, Elder. I would never."
The envoy shifted beside Droko, clearly uncomfortable. One of the other Elders spoke up. "Summon Maelora Veyne. Let the High Priestess decide."
My panic tripled.
Maelora. The woman who saw through illusions as if they were glass.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd now and I looked up and met Droko's gaze boring into me, his body tense. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a thunder in my ears.
Outwardly, I kept my posture straight, hands clasped at my waist, a picture of composure. But inside, my mind raced as I weaved and spun.
Bind tighter, I urged the magic silently. Seal the crack, deepen the shadow.
The air around me hummed faintly, invisible to them, as I poured all my will and might into it, drawing on reserves I couldn't afford to spend.
Not long after, Mealora's footsteps begun to echo and the crowd parted. One by one, images assaulted me: Father, chained to a stake, his greedy face twisted in agony as fire licked his legs.
I weaved, I spun, but my maguc failed.
The priestess entered, her robes whispering along the floor, silver embroidery catching the firelight. Her dark eyes fixed on me with unnerving calm, as though she already knew the truth.
My heart raced, but I forced my face to look composed. Every second she walked closer, my mind worked faster.
The next image came: Mother, weak and coughing as her screams cut short when the flames overwhelmed her.
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron.
Please please please work...
I pulled on ancient maguc reserves that I had no business touching. Words of old power twisted off my tongue in silence, hidden beneath my breath. Conceal. Reinforce. Cloak. Hide. Still, it wasn't enough.
Another image flashed in my head: the twins, oh gods, Lira's high-pitched cries, Kael's small hands reaching out, their innocent voices silenced in smoke and ash. No. Not them.
The magic surged then, clicking into place with a snap of renewed determination, the veil thickening like iron around my core.
She reached me just as it settled, her hand extending, palm up. "Kneel again, child. Let the light judge."
I knelt to the ground as she placed one cool hand on my head and murmured in a tongue older than the stones beneath us. Her power pressed against mine, searching.
The silence of the chamber was suffocating. Even the torches seemed to still, their flames frozen. My heartbeat hammered so violently I thought it would give me away.
Her fingers lingered on my scalp and she opened her eyes suddenly and looked directly into mine. For a moment, I could swear she sensed the shadow I'd woven. But instead, she lifted her hand and her lips curved ever so slightly upward.
"All is in order," she announced.
Maelora's gaze flicked toward the doubting Elder, and said with dry humor. "Perhaps your nose is not what it once was. Age dulls even the sharpest senses."
The tension broke like glass as laughter rippled through the circle, the mood easing.
I closed my eyes for a second and let out the breath I had been holding in shaky relief.
But when I opened them, I saw Droko's gaze on me.
His dark green eyes pinned on me, slightly narrowed. He hadn't joined in the laughter. He hadn't relaxed. He was studying me like a predator studies prey that has done something unexpected.
Heat prickled the back of my neck. I lowered my gaze quickly, forcing myself into the role of obedient bride. But the weight of his stare lingered, pressing against my skin even long after he turned away.
The rest blurred in a haze of chants and gestures. Droko led me through vows, his voice booming promises of protection, dominance, heirs. I echoed them, my responses mechanical, the weight of his gaze still burning. Elders circled us, binding threads of pack magic around our wrists, a faint glow sealing the preliminary tie. It tugged at my skin, alien and insistent, but my veil held it at bay.
"You are mine now," Droko murmured close to my ear as the threads dissolved, his breath hot. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we proceed to the final rite."
nodded, throat dry, as servants guided me to a seat among the women of the pack. A maid, young with braids and a kind face, sat beside me, offering a cup of water. "You did well," she whispered. "The Alpha seems pleased."
The ceremony wound down, elders rising one by one to offer blessings. Food circulated, the hall filling with toasts and low conversations. I sipped the water, forcing smiles, my body exhausted from the spellwork. Droko held court at the dais, his laughter booming as he clasped arms with his betas, but his eyes flicked to me often, that narrowed look lingering.
Finally, the head elder stood, raising his arms for silence. The hall quieted again. "The marriage rites are set. Purity and obedience confirmed. We will reconvene tomorrow at the same hour to complete the final seal. May the pack grow strong."
Applause rose around me but my brow furrowed in confusion. Final seal?
I leaned toward the maid, keeping my voice low. "What does he mean by that?"
She glanced around, then whispered back, her eyes wide. "It's tradition, my lady. For the bond to fully take, it must be witnessed. The consummation happens right here, on this stage. All the elders watch to ensure the heir is true."
My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. "You mean…"
Her lips barely moved, but the words still came. "Yes. Tomorrow night, you will be taken by the Alpha. And all of the elders will watch."