Morwen’s POV

^^^^Evening^^^^

By the time I filtered the last barrel of vintage, exhaustion weighed heavily through my limbs.

Rain hadn’t fallen yet—just a faint drizzle from the morning—but the air was heavy with it, humid and waiting.

I scrubbed my hands at the fountain basin, but the fruit stains clung stubbornly, dark as wine.

“Morwen!”

The head maid’s barked,

I turned sharply, and there she stood at the wine press with hands on her hips.

“What are you still doing here—washing your hands, while the wedding has almost begun?”

“Sorry ma'am” I murmured, drying my palms against my apron.

She dipped a jar into one of the barrels and shoved it into my arms, the vintage sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

“Take this to the west cellar. It has to be tasted before the nobles start whining!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The jar wasn't that heavy, but to avoid stories, I balanced it against my chest and hurried down the stone path.

The corridor to the cellars was crowded— maids rushed to and fro with chow and meat trays.

Food stewards stood at the end of the corridor tasting everything before it is taken to the pavilion

To beat time, I turned to the archway that opened to the main stairs, hoping to slip through it to the wine cellar unseen.

One sharp glance at the corridor, it was empty.

Relief slid through me. I took the corner quickly, and collided headlong into someone.

The collision came hard, making the jar slipped from my hands—

“Moon Mother,” I gasped. My heart lurched.

The head maid did warn me.

As if the Moon mother heard my cry, the person I collided into caught the jar midair— impossibly quick.

“Wen.”

His voice purred, heartbreakingly familiar.

For a moment, the world seemed to still, the echo of the voice settling beneath the slow thud of my heart.

Only one person had ever called me that.

Leoric!

I snapped my gaze up to be sure. Yes—Leo.

He stood before me, eyes—gray as thunder—pinning me on the spot.

“How have you been?” his wolf's baritone, reverberated into my ear.

I couldn't suppress the blush on my cheeks as I nodded.

He looked serene in the Ivory tunic edged in gold, which draped over his broad shoulders.

Wise—just the kind of prince whose words carried more diplomacy

“Check me out all you want later — for now, welcome me”

Unable to make up my mind, he drew in and wrapped his hand around my tiny waist, pulling me closer— effortless, as though I weighed nothing.

His clutching tenderly as though I was something fragile— Moon stone at most.

I leaned deeper into his frame which has become taller than my memory.

For at least two heartbeats, neither of us moved, his soothing scent of cedar wafting into my nostril.

I saw his nostrils flare slightly— as if something in the air had changed, and then he pulled away.

“Morwen…” his voice was incredibly low and urgent. “It’s not safe here. Meet me at the stables.”

I nodded quickly and he set the jar back into my arms with slow precision.

“The stables,” he repeated softer before striding away.

Kaelen's Pov

I sat in front of the dresser while Mother Isolde moved around me with her usual, measured grace —

a queen who never rushed a thing in her life.

Few hours ago, I walked into the Palace courtyard from the vineyard and it was thrumming with wedding preparations.

I assumed it was for Leoric, maybe he was going to declare his mate and seal it with a wedding.

Without much thought, I strode through, to my chamber—only to behold the Royal wedding cloak sprawled across my bed.

For the first time in my life, I opposed my mother's decision.

“I don't want to get married yet” I maintained initially.

But here I am —getting adorned for a she-wolf I’ve never met.

“Hold still,” Mother murmured.

I did.

Her fingers moved over my shoulders, smoothing the folds of my turban — deep forest green, trimmed with gold.

She worked in silence, each motion deliberate, almost ritualistic.

I watched her reach for a small locket on the dresser and opened it.

Inside, nestled on velvet, was the Alpha’s Plume — a jeweled crest worn to mark dominance and bloodline.

“I had it made just for you,” she said, smiling faintly.

I said nothing. Not because I wasn’t grateful — but because I didn’t know what to feel anymore.

She clasped the jewel through the loop of the turban, her touch lingering briefly against my temple.

“All done,” she whispered, stepping aside so I could face my reflection.

The jewel gleamed sharply —nobility.

A name to everyone that I wasn't worthy to carry.

“The Mooncrest will be there one day,” she breathed behind me, voice trembling with the ghost of a sob. “I promise.”

“Who needs the Mooncrest,” I countered, standing tall, “when I already have the most precious jewel beside me?”

Her lips parted, but tears came faster than her words.

I pulled her close, holding her as she shook against me.

“Mother… stay strong,” I throated, though she was already quaking aloud.

“I won’t rest, Kaelen,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Not until you’re freed.”

I said nothing —I just let her grief spill, soft against my shoulder.

It has been nineteen years since that night — my coming of age ceremony, but she still cracks at the slightest reminder.

The night I failed to summon my wolf before the eyes of the Lycaon pack.

A shame for any Alpha heir.

That night made me realize how deep a King’s curse could wound —

how it could bend even nature itself

“Your fears won’t come true,” I said, stroking her hair gently. “Not while I breathe.”

“Yes… you just marry, have an heir,” she said, wiping her tears.

“I’m sure your son will break—”

“Shh,” I cut her off. “Leoric can take the throne. I don’t mind.”

Her head jerked up, eyes wide in awe. “But—you’re the eldest!”

“So?” I furrowed my brow faintly. “Elders are meant to protect the young pups.

He can rule from the throne—while I rule the borders.”

Without debating it further, she reached up and smoothed my cheek.

“She’s waiting—your bride. I chose her specially for you.”

“Mother,” I began carefully, unsure if she would yield . “Please, let me speak with her before the—”

“Don't” She hushed me gently, pressing her hand to my lips.

“It is forbidden for a groom to behold his bride before the Moon Mother casts her light.”