Page 14 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

"Tova?" I ask, a midge of curiosity lodging itself in my chest at the hint of warmth and fondness that creeps into his voice.

"My cousin. She rarely ever fell asleep without being read to. I fear I might have spoiled her as a child," he muses as we draw closer to the music that spills from the double doors ahead.

My eyebrows rise. "You do not strike me as a man who reads fairytales to children?—"

"...perhaps, he impregnated the whore and has no choice but to marry her? I hear she is an unremarkable, frail thing."

This close to the doors, the voices are louder, clearer, and just like that, every trace of warmth I garnered is gone, leaving in its place the familiar sting of hostility.

"Seraphina—"

My fists tighten as I keep a lid on the anger that lashes at me. "It's alright. It's nothing I haven't heard before. Don't stop on my account."

He casts me an unreadable look before placing his hand on the small of my back and ushers me forward. Into the crammed hall of hundreds. All of whom watch us with keen eyes. I try not to notice but I feel the weight of their stares on my skin. Their questions. Who am I, and more importantly, why did he choose me?

Curiosity. Shock. Disgust. Disapproval. I refocus my gaze elsewhere, schooling my expression into disinterest, even as their whispers almost find purchase, digging for insecurities that I have long killed.

The red skirts of my dress slap against my ankle and my heels click too loudly. If Soren thinks so, he doesn't let on, his fingers instead brushing against my skin through the silky skirt in a manner that soothes my fraying nerves more than I'll ever admit.

A hush falls over the crowd when we halt at the top of the dais and overlook the hall that screams finery and wealth. Earlier, I had felt the dramatic slit and plunging neckline, the diamond set that adorned my neck and wrists, and the intricate hairdo my hair was styled into was a little too much for a small gathering, but I should have known his definition of small and mine differed.

Soren's hand falls away and the lack of his warmth suddenly reminds me of the cruel, frigid temperature. I shiver, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering just as Soren's voice booms across the hall.

"This is Seraphina," he says, green eyes cool as they sweep over the crowd. He extends a hand to me without glancing back and I take it, tentatively, wrapping my calloused fingers around his strong, elegant ones. I don't miss the gentleness with which he tugs me forward to stand beside and not behind him. "My chosen mate and Luna."

And the theatrics begin. I only wish I could say I was surprised.

It starts with a low murmur, building up to a crescendo that nearly deafens me. Questions are hurled across, disagreements are voiced, and soon, everyone's talking, nearly yelling their disapproval.

Of me.

A man steps out of the crowd. He is tall in a way I am beginning to understand all Northerners are, with light brown hair and loathing black eyes. Silence falls again as he lowers his head in deference towards Soren and completely ignores me.

When he straightens, there's a line of frustration on his forehead. "We have always trusted your judgment, followed you without question. But this—" his lips curl, eyes sweeping over me in open disdain. "—is unacceptable."

Anger flares to life and I put a lid on it. I'm not above walking off the dais to show him howunacceptableI can be, but I doubt that'd help Soren at all.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, most of whom nod in agreement, not bothering to hide it anymore.

The man turns slightly, addressing the room now. "The marriage of a Head Alpha is a powerful union meant to shape our future for generations, for stronger bloodlines. And yet, the council was not informed."

His gaze finds me again, sharper now. "And do you understand what you have been given, girl? The importance of the seat you sully with your filthy Southern blood?"

His words hit me harder than they should've, and for a moment, doubt creeps in. I should leave. I'll never belong here.

Only for a moment.

Because I meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. "I'm from the West." My voice is dry, almost bored, as I lift my wrist and drag a nail across my skin, breaking it. The scent of blood fills the air. "And I bleed red, just like you." I let the words settle, let the weight of them sink in before adding, "So if my blood is filthy, yours must be, too."

Eric makes a choked sound behind me. The silence that follows is so absolute that, for the first time, I almost regret letting my mouth run ahead of me. Almost.

But then, Soren chuckles.

The sound startles me. He takes one step off the dais, the full weight of his gaze on the speaking man. "Tell me, Axel, are you implying that I have acted foolishly and recklessly? That your Head Alpha is incapable of making his own decisions, and must consult the council for its more important opinion on who he chooses to spend the rest of his life with?"

Axel's skin pales. "All I am doing is speaking for the majority. The girl isn't fit to be Luna. She isn't even fit to bear an heir?—"

That soft laughter slips from Soren again and he takes another step down. "Are you calling the woman who now bears my last name a misfit? Filthy?"

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