MORANA
I sit in front of the bronze mirror, tilting my neck slightly. The pain in my bones still simmers beneath the skin, but I have to admit that the healing salves father sent me this time are far better than anything the pack healer gave. In just two days, the bruises are gone, as if they never existed.
"Cousin!" Julia's bright voice fills the room as she pushes the door open. "Look at the gown the Alpha sent! I heard these are all the rage among humans."
I glance at her through the mirror, watching her circle the midnight blue gown hanging in the center of my room like a centerpiece in a temple. It looks like it belongs in a fairytale, not my bleak little life.
"Among humans?" I echo, a faint trace of curiosity escaping my voice.
"If you'd ever stepped out of Frostmere, you'd have recognized it in a heartbeat." Julia's eyes gleam as she runs her fingers over the fabric. "The Alpha clearly didn't pick this at random. Wearing this… you'll be the center of the Moonrise Gala."
A flicker of something warm stirs in my chest at the mention of him. Today is my coming-of-age ceremony. And by sheer coincidence, or fate, it's also the night of the Moonrise Gala. The most sacred, the most celebrated event of the year.
This morning, even before I opened my eyes, Zacreus had sent everything I loved, wildflowers and roses, a box of sweet macarons, this breathtaking gown, and jewelry laced with gold and blue sapphires.
"Quick, before Uncle finds another reason to snap at you," Julia says, bustling around the room as she gathers things close to the mirror.
"Wait," I hold her hand gently. "What are you wearing tonight?"
"It doesn't matter. I'll just throw something on. It's your night, not mine."
I don't let her finish. Instead, I tug her to my wardrobe and pull open the doors. "Pick whatever you like. This entire row's new. It's your night too, Juli. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
I never had a sister. I used to envy the girls who did. But ever since Julia moved in with us, she's filled that void. She's the only warmth I have inside this house.
After she leaves to get ready, I sit before the mirror again and begin applying light makeup. Subtle foundation, a hint of blush. But for my lips, I pick a bold red. Pin by pin, I unravel the bun in my silver hair until it spills around my shoulders like liquid moonlight.
Just as I reach for the dress—
Knock. Knock.
"Morana."
His voice sends a chill in my veins. The pins in my hand clatter to the floor as the door creaks open. My father steps in, Kenna clinging to his arm like a parasite. Her breasts press against him so aggressively, I wonder how her ribs haven't snapped.
"You're not ready?" His voice scrapes across my skin.
I stand without thinking, my knuckles white. "Dad—"
"This is what the Alpha sent for you?" He cuts me off, his lip curling like he's just bitten into something foul when he takes in the sight of the beautiful gown. "You're not wearing it." A harsh frown tugs between his brows when he looks at me again, as if just the sight of me is distasteful to him.
It sends a wave of bitterness to my chest. I have been preparing myself for this for a while now. I know that once I am mated to Zacreus, this life would be over. I would no longer be living under the same roof as my abusive father, wondering what I did to deserve his hate. Yet, no amount of resolve puts my heart at ease when he refuses to even look at me.
For years now, I have lived in the darkness. Yet today, I want to ask him and I want to demand an answer. And the thought fills me up with such courage that I am standing before I realize it, "Dad…"
"Kenna," Dad cuts me off. Again. And at his thunderous voice, his 'personal shawl' detaches from his arm.
That's all it takes. Kenna saunters to the side of the room and picks up a candle. The blood drains from my face as I realize what she's about to do.
"Don't—" I start, lunging forward.
But a rough hand clamps down on the back of my neck and throws me down like I'm nothing but garbage. Pain shoots down my spine. My lip splits as I hit the floor and a metallic taste spreads in my mouth.
Kenna tosses the candle. Flames erupt, dancing across the midnight blue gown like demons in celebration.
"I warned you," my father says above me, "Before you're mated, the Alpha should not touch you. Nor should you be flaunting his gifts like a desperate whore. Especially not tonight."
He doesn't give me a chance to argue. He storms out as if the scene never happened and my heart thuds at how blatantly he ignores me and my feelings. A part of me still craves for the father who would stand behind me like a protector when I was young. But with every passing encounter with Dad, I realize that those days will never come back again. My eyes burn and my heart aches as I watch the midnight blue gown burn.
Kenna hauls me to my feet. "Such a shame," she mutters, "that the Beta couldn't father something a little stronger."
Her fingers rub off the red lipstick from my lips. Her nails twist my hair back into its usual tight bun. For once, the weight of my 18th birthday presses onto me to the extent that I feel suffocated. Or, the cause of suffocation can be Kenna tugging at my corset so hard that my waist is barely visible, with my organs fighting for space.
…
The Moonrise Gala is held in the Ancestral Residence, deep within Frostmere. In the Bloodbane Pack, it's the heart of everything. The place where destinies are sealed and bloodlines celebrated.
Dad, Kenna, Julia, and I ride there in his car. Julia squeezes my hand tightly, her grip trembling. She's older than me by days but still hasn't found her mate. Tonight, she hopes to.
Along the way, Dad doesn't say a word to me. Instead, he humors Kenna who clings to his arms, asking him about birds and bees.
To this day, I do not understand the obsession of my father's mistress with acting like a naive little girl in front of him. For some reason, everytime he is near, she would pretend not to know how to differentiate between night and day. And it seems to work on Dad just fine.
As we step into the Ancestral Hall, golden chandeliers bathe the room in light, and rows of ancient paintings stare down from the stone walls. At the center lies the altar, cold, pristine, sacred.
The crowd stirs at our arrival yet my heart refuses to cease beating, for completely other reasons. My eyes trail through every corner of the huge place, searching for the sight of a towering figure.