Chapter 1
The Invitation That Wasn’t Mine.
My sister had been missing for one hundred and eighty-four days when her pendant arrived without her.
The parcel was waiting on my father’s desk when I entered his study, damp at the corners from the afternoon rain. No seal marked the brown paper. No messenger had left a name. Someone had written only two words across the front.
Elyra Senn.
I knew something was wrong before I opened it.
Vessa knew too.
My wolf lifted from the quiet place she usually occupied inside me, every instinct suddenly alert.
Maris.
My fingers tightened around the parcel.
“You smell it too?”
Father looked up sharply. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I pulled the black thread loose.
A small silver pendant slipped into my palm.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Three pale moonstones circled a carved silver leaf. A scratch curved along the edge where I had dropped it when I was thirteen and Maris had spent the rest of the day telling me I was never touching her belongings again.
She had worn it almost every day since Mother gave it to her.
Father’s chair scraped backward.
“Where did you get that?”
“A village boy brought the parcel.”
“What boy?”
“He said a traveler paid him.”
“What traveler?”
“I don’t know.”
His face tightened.
That expression had become familiar over the past six months.
Every new rumor began with hope and ended with nothing.
A woman resembling Maris had been seen near the southern border. False.
A merchant claimed she boarded a carriage toward Edrath. False.
Someone found a dark cloak beside the Alder River. It belonged to a farmer’s daughter who was very much alive and furious that half the territory had inspected her clothing.
Eventually people stopped bringing information.
We never stopped waiting.
Father reached for the pendant.
I turned it over first.
A thin seam crossed the back.
“That wasn’t there before.”
He came around the desk.
I pressed my thumbnail against the groove. The metal shifted with a tiny click.
A folded strip of paper slid into my palm.
Father stopped beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
The handwriting was enough.
Maris formed her letters tightly when she was frightened or hurried. I had seen that hand on childhood apology notes, estate records, birthday cards, and once on a furious three page complaint after I borrowed her boots without permission.
I unfolded the paper.
Seven words.
Ravenscar. Find me before he chooses another bride.
The rain seemed louder.
Father took the note and read it twice.
“Ravenscar.”
The word came out almost soundless.
I stared at the pendant.
“She’s alive.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She wrote this.”
“We know someone had her pendant.”
“That is her handwriting.”
“Elyra.”
“She knew I would recognize it.”
His fist closed around the paper.
“You are doing exactly what whoever sent this wants.”
“Which is what?”
“Reacting before thinking.”
Anger rose faster than I wanted.
“I have spent six months thinking.”
“So have I.”
“And where has that gotten us?”
Pain crossed his face.
I wished the words back immediately.
Father turned toward the window.
Gray had spread through his hair since Maris disappeared. He slept badly now. Ate because Aunt Lenna reminded him. Sometimes I found him sitting in the study after midnight with Maris’s last estate ledger open in front of him, staring at numbers she had written as though one of them might reveal where she went.
My anger weakened.
I took the note from his hand more gently.
“Why Ravenscar?”
He did not answer.
Everyone north of the Alder River knew Ravenscar.
Its mountains supplied iron to half the territories. Its soldiers guarded passes other packs paid fortunes to use. Its Citadel was said to have never fallen, even during the winter wars.
The man ruling it had a reputation even darker than the fortress.
Alpha Corvane Rhyss.
The Ruthless Alpha.
I had never seen him.
I had heard enough.
He had executed men from his own council for treason. Stripped old noble houses of land. Exiled commanders who betrayed him. Crushed an uprising so thoroughly that no neighboring Alpha had dared test Ravenscar since.
Some stories called him cruel.
Others called him fair.
Nobody called him gentle.
Vessa shifted uneasily.
Danger.
“I know.”
Father glanced at me.
“You said that aloud.”
“I’m aware.”
His eyes went to the note again.
“Maris had no reason to be involved with Corvane Rhyss.”
“Apparently she had a reason she never told us.”
That truth hurt more than I expected.
Maris told me everything.
Or I had believed she did.
I knew which wine she hated, which childhood scar she still blamed on me, which tenant she secretly paid during hard winters because his pride would not let him accept help from Father.
I had not known Ravenscar.
“What does the bride mean?” I asked.
Father’s silence stretched.
Before he could answer, someone knocked.
Aunt Lenna entered without waiting.
Black mourning clothes made her look smaller than she had yesterday.
We buried Liora in the family cemetery less than twenty four hours ago.
My cousin had been twenty four years old.
Three weeks earlier she had been arguing with me about which gown made her look pale. Then fever took her so quickly that the house still felt unprepared for her absence.
Aunt Lenna carried an ivory envelope.
“I found this among Liora’s papers.”
Father looked exhausted. “Lenna, not now.”
“I think now.”
She held it toward me.
Dark silver wax sealed the envelope.
A raven with spread wings rested above a crescent moon.
My skin prickled.
Ravenscar.
Father swore softly.
Aunt Lenna frowned. “Why are you both looking at it like that?”
I broke the seal.
The letter inside was formal, heavy, and brief.
Lady Liora Senn of Alderfen had been invited to present herself at Ravenscar Citadel as a candidate in the bridal selection of Alpha Corvane Rhyss.
My eyes moved back to Maris’s message.
Find me before he chooses another bride.
Everything inside me became very still.
Father saw the decision before I made it.
“No.”
“I haven’t spoken.”
“You don’t need to.”
Aunt Lenna took Maris’s note from me.
Her face drained of color as she read.
“No.”
“Apparently everyone has agreed on that word.”
“Elyra, this is not funny.”
“I know.”
My gaze returned to Liora’s invitation.
No portrait.
No description.
Only her name, family, territory, and the sealed authority permitting her into Ravenscar.
Liora and I were close in height. Both dark haired. Similar enough that strangers occasionally mistook us for sisters when we were younger.
Nobody at Ravenscar knew either of us.
Aunt Lenna understood.
She snatched the invitation from my hand.
“You cannot be considering this.”
“It gets me inside.”
“It gets you killed.”
“Maris may already be inside.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t.”
My voice cracked.
“That is the problem.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Father came toward me.
“You are my daughter.”
“So is she.”
His expression broke.
I hated myself for saying it.
“Father, I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did.”
He looked away.
“You just did not mean for it to hurt.”
That was worse.
I pressed my lips together.
Aunt Lenna sat heavily in the chair near the fire.
“Liora was supposed to leave next week.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“The selection begins in six days. Ravenscar does not know she died.”
Father turned.
“Then inform them.”
Aunt Lenna’s fingers closed around the invitation.
“I will.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
She looked at me.
I could see exactly when she understood why I had asked.
“No.”
“One day.”
“No.”
“I only need enough time to reach the gates before the notice does.”
“Elyra.”
Her voice trembled.
“I buried one girl yesterday.”
The words cut straight through me.
I crossed the room and knelt before her.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“You still think wanting someone back is enough to make death bargain with you.”
I had no answer.
Maybe I did think that.
Maybe six months of waking every morning without Maris had made me willing to believe almost anything.
I took Aunt Lenna’s hand.
“If there were even a chance Liora was alive somewhere, would you stay here?”
Her breath caught.
Father closed his eyes.
I did not need her answer.
Two days later, he helped fasten my cloak.
He hated every buckle.
Aunt Lenna packed three of Liora’s gowns into my trunk and then refused to speak to me until I was already climbing into the carriage.
She finally grabbed my hand.
“Come back using your own name.”
I promised.
It was the only promise I made.
The journey north took four days.
Fields gave way to thick pine forests, then narrow mountain roads where mist clung to the cliffs. Ravenscar appeared near sunset, its Citadel rising from black stone high above the valley.
Silver banners snapped above the walls.
Vessa woke fully.
A strange sensation moved through her.
Not fear this time.
Awareness.
Almost anticipation.
Something is there.
“Maris?”
No answer.
My pulse quickened anyway.
The carriage crossed a stone bridge and rolled beneath enormous iron gates.
Too late to turn back now.
A guard opened the door.
“Lady Liora Senn?”
My stomach tightened.
The first lie was always supposed to be the hardest.
“Yes.”
I stepped down.
Cold mountain air touched my face.
Then I noticed the man waiting several paces behind the guard.
Tall, broad shouldered, dressed in black with a silver raven pinned over his heart.
He had been standing there before my carriage stopped.
Waiting specifically for me.
His eyes moved slowly over my face.
Not curious.
Assessing.
Then he smiled.
There was nothing welcoming about it.
“Lady Liora Senn.”
Vessa growled beneath my skin.
The stranger took one measured step closer.
“You took longer than we expected.”
