The Rejection
The moment Rowan Blackmoor rejected me, every wolf in the hall went silent.
Not the people. Their gasps rose beneath the vaulted ceiling, followed by whispers that spread through the crowd like fire through dry grass.
It was the wolves inside them that vanished.
One heartbeat earlier, I had felt their presence everywhere—restless beneath human skin, answering the blood moon that poured crimson light through the high windows. Then Rowan spoke the ancient words, and three hundred wolves fell into a silence so complete that the emptiness pressed against my bones.
“I, Rowan Blackmoor, Alpha of Ironfang, reject you, Elara Wynn, as my mate and Luna.”
He stood above me on the moonstone altar, wearing the black ceremonial armor of his bloodline. A silver crown rested on his dark hair. The same man who had held my hand beneath the old oak tree six years ago now looked at me as though I were something unpleasant he had found on his boot.
Beside him stood Selene Voss.
She was dressed in the white-and-gold robes reserved for a Luna. Her copper hair had been arranged beneath a delicate moonstone circlet, and her green eyes gleamed with satisfaction she was not quite able to hide.
My robes were gray.
Not silver, as Rowan had promised.
Gray.
I should have understood the moment the servants brought them to my room that morning. No embroidery. No pack crest. No place for a Luna’s ceremonial chain.
Still, I had put them on.
I had brushed my dull ash-blonde hair until the brittle strands stopped catching in the comb. I had covered the gray stains creeping from my collarbone with powder. I had even tried to hide the dark cracks along my jaw, although everyone in Ironfang knew they were there.
They had called me cursed since I was thirteen.
Ugly since I was sixteen.
Wolfless from the day I failed to shift.
But Rowan had called me his mate.
Last night, he had come to my room after the final rehearsal. He had stood outside my door, refusing to enter, and said, “Tomorrow, everything changes.”
Like a fool, I had believed he meant our years of hiding would finally end.
Now I understood.
Everything had changed before I entered the hall. I was simply the last person to be told.
“Elara.”
Rowan’s voice pulled me back to the altar.
I looked up at him. His expression was controlled, almost cold, but I noticed how tightly his fingers curled around the arms of the ceremonial throne.
“Did you hear me?”
Every face in the hall turned toward me.
Pack elders occupied the front rows, their silver robes glowing beneath the moonlight. Warriors stood along the walls. Behind them crowded the servants, hunters and ordinary pack members who had come to witness Rowan’s coronation.
Many of them had tormented me for years.
Now they were watching to see whether I would break.
“I heard you,” I said.
My voice did not tremble.
That seemed to disappoint them.
Rowan descended one step from the altar. “Ironfang needs a Luna capable of protecting the pack. Someone with a strong wolf and a respected bloodline.”
His gaze moved briefly over my face. It was only a second, but I felt the disgust he tried to conceal.
“You have neither.”
Someone laughed near the back of the hall.
I recognized the voice. Lysa, the daughter of one of Rowan’s generals, had once poured boiling soup over my hands because I had served her too slowly. Rowan had seen the burns afterward. When I told him what had happened, he said punishing a general’s daughter would create unnecessary conflict.
It was always the wrong time to defend me.
Apparently, it was the perfect time to humiliate me.
“Lady Selene brings an alliance with Silvercrest,” Rowan continued. “Her bloodline will strengthen our warriors and secure the northern border. As Alpha, I must place the survival of Ironfang above my personal feelings.”
Personal feelings.
As if the bond between us were an embarrassing weakness he had finally overcome.
My hand moved unconsciously to the inside of my elbow. Beneath my sleeve lay a row of pale scars left by the monthly offerings High Priestess Maevra had demanded from me.
For the wards, she always said.
A little blood from every member of the Alpha household to keep the borders strong.
Except Rowan had never given blood. Neither had his father.
Only me.
I looked toward Maevra, who stood at the side of the altar in her white ceremonial veil. The lines around her mouth deepened when our eyes met.
She was not surprised by Rowan’s announcement.
Of course she wasn’t.
She had prepared Selene’s Luna robes.
She had prepared mine too.
“An Alpha must make difficult choices,” Maevra declared. Her voice carried easily through the hall. “The moon does not always pair us with what is best for our people. Sometimes destiny must yield to duty.”
Murmurs of agreement followed.
Selene placed one graceful hand on Rowan’s arm.
“You shouldn’t blame him, Elara,” she said. Her voice was gentle enough to sound kind to anyone who did not know her. “Rowan has carried this burden for years. He tried to protect you from the truth.”
“The truth?”
Her gaze slid over my gray robes and the patches powder could not hide.
“That you were never going to be Luna.”
The crowd laughed again.
Heat burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let the tears fall.
I remembered every night I had waited for Rowan after council meetings, only for him to send word that he was too busy. Every secret touch he allowed when no one was watching. Every promise that things would be different after he became Alpha.
I remembered defending him when people said he was ashamed of me.
They had been right.
Rowan had not protected me from the truth. He had protected himself from the inconvenience of facing it.
“Elara,” Maevra said sharply, “the rejection must be answered.”
A rejected mate could refuse, leaving the bond wounded but intact. It would hurt both of us, sometimes for years.
I could cling to Rowan through that pain. I could force him to feel me every time he touched Selene. I could make sure a part of him remained bound to the ugly, wolfless woman he had discarded.
Perhaps that was what everyone expected.
The pitiful girl begging fate to return the man who had never had the courage to claim her.
Rowan extended his hand toward Selene.
She accepted it without looking away from me.
Something inside my chest cracked.
Not the mate bond. Not yet.
Something smaller and more foolish—the final piece of hope I had protected long after it stopped deserving protection.
Six years ago, when the bond first awakened, Rowan told me the moon had chosen us.
Today, in front of the entire pack, he had chosen someone else.
That meant I was free to do the same.
I lifted my chin.
“I accept your rejection, Rowan Blackmoor.”
The smile disappeared from Selene’s face.
Rowan’s shoulders jerked as though I had struck him.
For the first time that evening, uncertainty entered his eyes. Perhaps he had expected tears. Perhaps he thought I would refuse and allow him to keep the bond while giving Selene my position.
A pulse of heat spread from the moon-shaped pendant hidden beneath my robes. It burned against my skin, and words that were not mine rose from somewhere deep inside me.
“What was given through me,” I continued, “returns to me.”
Maevra went white.
“Stop her!”
Pain exploded through my chest.
I fell to one knee as the mate bond tore apart.
It did not feel like a thread snapping. It felt like a hook being ripped from my heart, dragging years of memories with it. Rowan beneath the oak tree. Rowan secretly holding my hand. Rowan promising that patience would be rewarded. Rowan standing above me while the pack laughed.
A scream caught in my throat.
I would not give them that satisfaction.
I pressed one hand against the moonstone floor and forced myself to remain conscious.
The crimson light pouring through the windows bent toward me.
Every candle in the hall went out.
Darkness swallowed the altar, followed by shouts and the scrape of weapons being drawn. Silver symbols flared beneath my palm, spreading through the floor in a web of light.
Then the wolves began to howl.
Not aloud.
Inside their owners.
Three hundred men and women clutched their heads as their wolves cried out once—and disappeared.
Warriors collapsed against the walls. Elders stumbled from their seats. Lysa screamed that she could no longer feel her wolf.
A sharp crack came from the altar.
Selene’s moonstone circlet split down the center.
She tore it from her head and stared at the broken pieces. “What did she do?”
I wondered the same thing.
The dark marks covering my hand had begun to move. Thin streams of black flowed away from my skin, sinking into the silver symbols beneath me.
For one breath, the pain behind my eyes cleared.
The world sharpened.
I could see every crack in the moonstone. Every thread of gold in Selene’s dress. Every flicker of terror crossing Maevra’s face.
Rowan staggered down from the altar.
“Ronan?” he whispered.
Ronan was the name of his wolf.
The most powerful wolf in Ironfang had answered Rowan from the time he was five years old. Rowan had once told me Ronan was always there—watching through his eyes, lending strength to his body, waiting beneath his skin.
Now Rowan looked as empty as the rest of them.
He called his wolf again.
Nothing answered.
His amber eyes found mine.
“What have you done?”
Before I could respond, Maevra pointed at me.
“Seize her!”
The guards nearest the altar hesitated. Whatever had happened to their wolves had shaken them, but years of obedience drove them forward. Six men drew their swords and surrounded me.
The silver patterns beneath my hand faded.
My strength went with them.
I tried to stand and nearly collapsed. The broken mate bond still burned inside my chest, and every breath tasted like blood.
One guard seized my arm.
Another reached for the pendant beneath my robes.
The moment his fingers touched the chain, something opened its eyes inside me.
A presence vast and ancient stretched through the hollow place where there had never been a wolf. I felt claws. Silver fur. A heartbeat far stronger than my own.
Then a woman’s voice, rough from years of silence, spoke inside my mind.
My name is Astra.
The guard tightened his grip.
Astra growled.
And if you want to live, Elara, run.
