Annabella's POV

The Alpha went in and I just sat there. I was just outside, hiding behind a hedge and trying to breathe, when a voice that could cut glass shouted my name.

“Annabella Monroe! What are you doing there, staring at the sky like an idiot?”

I turned slowly. Is she….Queen Jiang? Right obviously the pretty rude witch, depending on who you were to her. Kael’s mother. Gorgeous, sharp-eyed, and somehow terrifying without moving a muscle. Her skirts swished across the marble like she was gliding over the world instead of walking on it.

“I was…” My voice failed me. Actually, my brain failed me. Nothing I could say would make sense.

“Was what? Admiring the palace from a distance? Dreaming about jumping over the fence?” She didn’t even wait for an answer. She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Come here.”

I obeyed, because arguing with someone who could probably snap my neck without blinking seemed like a bad plan. She came closer, all elegance and teeth and judgment, and leaned toward me. Her voice dropped. “You realize you’re the bride, right? The one everyone is waiting for? What is so stupid about standing outside thinking of running?”

“ I just .” I swallowed. “I thought I could…maybe. ..”

“Thought you could what? Run? Ha. You’re wearing the dress of a Monroe now. You can’t run. You walk. Preferably in the right direction.” She flicked her hand toward the palace. “Get in there. The maids will wash you properly. And yes, I mean properly. Not like the hovel you came from.”

I trudged behind her, muttering under my breath about maids, showers, and dresses that probably made Cinderella cry. And I got proof. When they dragged me into the dressing room, the maids had these bright, itchy gloves and tubs of steaming water ready. They didn’t even ask me. They just started scrubbing.

“Your hair,” one of them said, dragging a brush through my knots. “Why would someone let it look like this?”

I yelped. “Because I like it!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Someone might, but not in Silvercrest.”

Next, the dresses. Oh, God. The dresses. They handed me a gown that looked like it had swallowed half the palace and then decided to vomit sparkles everywhere. I stepped into it, and the fabric nearly dragged me to the floor. My arms had tubes of silk squeezing them like they were being suffocated politely. I glared at my reflection. It was big, it was shiny, and it made me look like the center of a very expensive disaster.

“Wow. Great. Just great,” I muttered to myself. “This is so flattering it hurts my eyes.”

One of the maids tried to adjust a sleeve. “You look like a princess.”

“A princess? Sure. A princess whose stomach is in knots, heart is pounding, and will probably throw up in front of an entire court in thirty minutes. That’s me.”

After what felt like a decade of brushing, cleaning, and dressing, I was finally led into the main hall. My legs felt like jelly in the heels that were clearly designed to punish humans, and my hands shook. Why do people even wear these oh my goodness.

The hall itself was… a.. I don't know the word for it, it was magnificent. Long tables, silver chandeliers glinting like little moons, and everywhere, people staring. Some of them gossiping, and some of them stared openly. My brother Darian stood at the side. He didn’t wave or look at me. He didn’t nod. He just… watched.

The elders were there. Their robes swished. Their eyes sharp. Minor alphas from smaller packs I’d never heard of were scattered among the crowd, trying to look important. And then… the two big ones.

Ronan Darkfang. Everyone had whispered about him. The Darkfang Alpha. Black armor, massive presence, eyes that didn’t blink as if blinking was a waste of his time. Handsome, hot and seductive. Everyone in the room seemed to suck in their breath when he moved. And I knew the story. Everyone knew the story. He had loved Kael’s sister once. And he hated Silvercrest for what happened to their love story. Which meant, by some cosmic joke, he probably hated me too.

Across the hall, was Seraphine Veyra of Dawnveil Enclave. Calm, cold, and luminous. Magic and prophecy and all that scary stuff I didn’t understand. Everyone bowed, whispered, or froze when she looked their way. I realized she was assessing me already, probably calculating what my bloodline meant.

I swallowed. My heart was beating like a drum solo.

And then, a soft, sharp voice beside me made me jump. “You may proceed,” the queen said, stepping aside.

I walked. Tried not to trip.

Then I saw them. My new… family, I guess. Kael’s wives. Zira. Her eyes flicked toward me. And then… Elara. Calm. Reserved. Almost… kind. She smiled politely, and I realized she wasn’t sizing me up for battle. Just… noting that I existed. And that was scary in a completely different way.

One of the council members ushered me forward to a chair at the head of the room. A huge, carved seat that felt more like a throne and less like a chair. I was sweating through silk.

The high priestess approached. She moved slowly, eyes on me, and started the rites. Elders flanked her, murmuring words I didn’t understand. Some kind of chant. Some kind of ancient, heavy magic.

And then she paused. Looked at me. Smiled faintly. “Annabella Monroe,” she said, voice calm. “You are to be…”

I froze. That pause. My blood turned to ice. Every rumor about Alphas, multiple mates, alliances, bloodlines it all came crashing down.

“You are to be…” she continued, slow, precise, and I couldn’t breathe. “The bloodmate of Alpha Kael Silvercrest.”

I blinked. Then blinked again. I swallowed. “Wait. Wait. Wait. Did I hear that right?”

“Yes,” she said, as if I was supposed to know. “The seat above your new position has been taken. Your role is clear. You will take your place beside the Alpha and the other mates.”

Not Luna, not consort, just bloodmate. Oh my flipping… I'm cooked.