Lyra's POV
"Keep your head down," Helena whispered urgently. "Don't speak unless absolutely necessary, and if he asks direct questions, just nod or shake your head."
Another sharp knock echoed through the door. His patience was wearing thin.
"One moment," she called out, strain evident in her voice as she fought to sound composed. "The bride needs a few more minutes."
She whirled back to me, her fingers moving with desperate speed as she yanked me out of the blue bridesmaid dress. The fabric slipped down my arms and crumpled at my feet. Before I could even catch my breath, she was lifting the elaborate wedding gown and pulling it over my head. Her hands worked frantically, securing buttons and clasps, adjusting fabric, while I stood frozen like a mannequin.
The moment she finished, she opened the door.
My pulse thundered against my ribcage so violently I was certain he could hear it from the doorway.
"At last," he said. "Are you prepared?"
I gave a small nod, following Helena's instructions.
"You look stunning." His tone softened considerably. "I understand this feels overwhelming, but everything will settle once we complete the ceremony."
If he only knew the truth.
Helena positioned herself beside me, her fingers finding mine and gripping with painful intensity. "She's just anxious. You know how brides get on their wedding day."
"Naturally." He extended his arm toward me, and even that simple gesture carried weight. "Shall we proceed?"
"Just another moment," Helena interjected smoothly, sliding between us. "I need to touch up her makeup."
Kaelen's gaze swept over us both. His stare felt penetrating enough to slice through my veil and expose our deception completely. My stomach plummeted, convinced he'd somehow discovered our ruse, that he could detect the lies radiating from us. Then he nodded once. "Very well. I'll wait in the corridor."
As he moved toward the door, Helena added casually, "Your bride isn't going anywhere."
A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Then everything is as it should be."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving us in suffocating silence. Helena released a sharp breath through her nose, and my legs felt unsteady with terror.
"He suspects something," I whispered.
"You just need to survive the ceremony. I'll handle everything afterward." Helena snatched her cosmetic bag and began working on my face. She kept darting glances toward the door like she expected him to storm back in and tear the veil from my head.
"Remember," she murmured while applying powder beneath my eyes, "if you absolutely must speak, keep your voice soft. Daphne's tone is lighter than yours, more delicate. And whatever happens, keep that veil in place until the absolute final moment."
My throat felt parched as desert sand. "What if someone recognizes me? What if Father notices and realizes what we've done?"
"Your father is too occupied with his political maneuvering to pay attention. Besides, who would imagine we'd attempt something this reckless? The plan is too outrageous for anyone to suspect, which is precisely why it'll succeed."
She stepped back, examining me with critical eyes, then nodded decisively. "It's time. We can't delay any longer without arousing suspicion."
Helena cracked the door and peered into the hallway like she was scouting for enemy soldiers. "Let's go, and remember to keep your head down."
I trailed behind her through the packhouse hallways, my heartbeat growing more violent with each step. The wedding dress swished around my ankles, heavier than any garment I'd ever worn.
We paused at the entrance to the stone walkway leading from the main building to the ceremony grounds. Beyond us, neat rows of chairs stretched beneath the open sky, already occupied. The murmur of conversation drifted toward us on the breeze.
"Ready?" Helena asked.
I would never be ready for this deception. But I nodded.
We stepped onto the pathway, and every guest turned in unison to watch me. I didn't dare meet their gazes, terrified they would somehow sense I was a fraud. Helena guided me down the aisle, each step feeling like I was wading through quicksand. Whispered comments followed in our wake. Initially, I couldn't distinguish individual words over the roaring panic in my ears.
As my nerves settled marginally, their voices became clearer.
"Absolutely beautiful," someone murmured appreciatively.
"She looks luminous," another voice drifted from my left.
"Daphne was always the most beautiful sister," a woman commented.
The words stung, even though I'd heard similar comparisons throughout my life.
Within moments, I found myself positioned beside Kaelen. His dark hair was styled away from his face, and even from this distance, his scent reached me. Pine mixed with expensive cologne.
Helena squeezed my hand hard enough to bruise before stepping away to join the other witnesses. Kaelen offered his arm, and my hand trembled noticeably as it settled on his sleeve. I wondered if he could feel the shaking through the fabric.
An Elder waited beside him. She appeared to be Ironfang's pack healer or spiritual advisor. Her silver hair was woven with moonstone beads, and her eyes were pale blue like winter ice.
She beamed at us warmly.
"We gather today to witness the union of two souls," she began, her voice carrying clearly across the assembly without effort. "Alpha Kaelen of the Ironfang Pack and Daphne of the Willow Brook Pack have chosen to bind themselves not merely in marriage, but in the sacred bond of chosen mates."
Chosen mates meant more than political alliance. It meant we would petition the goddess to forge a mate bond, something typically reserved for fated pairs.
Elder Helga raised a chalice containing clear liquid and offered it to Kaelen.
"Drink, and open your soul to your chosen mate," she instructed.
Kaelen took a sip, his throat moving as he swallowed, then passed the chalice to me.
My hands shook as I lifted the veil just enough to bring the cup to my lips without revealing my face. The liquid tasted bland initially, then created a tingling sensation as it went down.
Elder Helga began chanting in ancient words. She produced a length of crimson rope and started wrapping it around our clasped hands, weaving it over and under.
"With this binding, your souls reach across the darkness toward each other," she proclaimed. "What the Moon Goddess has not destined, you petition to be forged through determination and love."
The rope grew warm against my skin, then blazingly hot. Something fluttered inside my chest like a trapped bird seeking escape. I gasped and looked up at Kaelen through the veil.
His eyes had widened in shock.
I'd experienced this sensation once before, so I knew exactly what was happening.
A mate bond was forming.
Pure terror flooded through me like ice water in my veins. This wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to simply perform the motions, speak the required words, maintain the illusion until later when we could devise a solution. A chosen-mate bond could eventually be severed. But my real fear was that this connection would allow him to sense my emotions, possibly even access my thoughts if it strengthened sufficiently.
"The bond manifests," Elder Helga announced with profound satisfaction. "Now, let this union be consecrated with a kiss."
The crowd burst into cheers and applause. Kaelen moved closer, his hands rising toward my face to lift the veil.
"No," I whispered, but my protest was completely swallowed by the celebration surrounding us. I clutched at the lace with both hands, desperately trying to keep it positioned, fighting to keep my identity hidden for just moments longer.
Kaelen laughed as if I'd made an amusing comment. "Still modest? That's perfectly fine, we have plenty of time."
"She's been anxious all day," someone shouted from the audience. I couldn't identify the speaker. More laughter rippled through the gathering.
"Daphne was always the shy one," another voice added.
I turned frantically toward where I knew Helena stood, seeking help or direction or anything, but when I located her face in the crowd, she simply gazed back with blank composure. As if nothing disastrous were about to occur, as if everything were proceeding exactly as planned.
That expression seemed strange.
Kaelen's hands were tender but absolutely determined as they moved to grasp my veil's edges. "It's alright," he said quietly, intended only for my ears. "I'll be careful. I won't cause you pain."
His reassurance only intensified my panic. I attempted to pull away, to keep the veil down for just seconds longer, but his strength was overwhelming.
The fabric began rising away from my face, inch by devastating inch.
"Please," I whispered, but he couldn't hear me over the crowd's rhythmic chanting of 'kiss, kiss, kiss'.
The veil lifted and swept over my head in one fluid motion.
Complete silence fell instantly.
Alpha Kaelen's expression cycled through emotions too rapidly for me to process. Confusion first, as if he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, then recognition as understanding caught up with perception.
When he finally spoke, his voice emerged deadly quiet in a way that chilled my blood.
"You are not my bride."