Three days flew past like clouds racing across the sky. Each morning, I woke to find the moon growing fuller, rounder, its pull on my wolf strengthening as the celestial countdown continued. With Natalia's lessons temporarily suspended, I channeled my nervous energy into Nicki's training sessions, returning to my quarters each night pleasantly exhausted. Twice I dined with Derick's parents, watching his father's eyes crinkle with laughter at his own jokes while his mother gazed at her son with unmistakable pride.
And then it was time. I blinked sleep from my eyes as dawn broke over the Royal Pack's courtyard, golden light cutting through the last of the night. I stood with the other initiates on ancient stones worn smooth by centuries of use. We all wore the same plain, bone-colored sleeveless robes. Mine itched at the seams, as if deliberately made uncomfortable.
The nobility watched from viewing platforms on three sides of the square. They lined the balustrades—some leaning forward curiously, others whispering behind their hands. I kept my eyes down, afraid they'd all stare at my black hair and bruised jaw and see me as an outsider.
The royal family occupied the fourth side. Three white marble thrones dominated the terrace. King Theo sat in the center, his massive frame making the throne look small, shirtsleeves rolled up on powerful arms. Queen Lisa sat to his left in a sunrise-colored dress, her blonde hair tightly coiled, her expression calm and unreadable except when she glanced at her son. And there was Derick on the right, wearing a dark blue ceremonial robe, standing with barely concealed nervousness that matched my own.
A bell tolled once. The sound vibrated through my bones. All whispers in the courtyard stopped at the same moment. The King stood up. His boots hit the stone floor with a thunderous sound that echoed everywhere.
"Let the new children come forward," he called, and I felt the words as much as heard them, deep and resonant.
One by one, the initiates filed toward the center of the square, bare feet slapping against the cold stone. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to be the one who tripped or lagged behind. We assembled in a grid, two dozen wide, three deep, not a word spoken as we faced the throne.
The King scanned us—slowly, methodically—then lifted a hand. "Cassandra Blackwater," he said, and my heart slammed against my ribs like it wanted to escape. My name in his voice echoed through the courtyard, a death sentence and salvation all at once.
"Step forward."
Terror clawed up my throat. Why me? Why first? My legs trembled beneath the thin robe, and for one horrible second, I thought I might collapse in front of everyone—in front of Derick. The whispers from the nobility burned my ears as a flush of humiliation scorched up my neck. Josh would have loved this moment, seeing me exposed, vulnerable.
I forced myself forward, each step a battle against the urge to run. The stone bit into my bare feet, cold as a grave. I stopped where Natalia had marked for me, close enough to see the flecks of gold in the King's eyes, far enough that he couldn't smell my fear. I lowered my head, my pulse thundering so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it.
The King's gaze raked over me, piercing through every defense I'd built. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal. He didn't look for the scars or the bruises—he looked straight into my eyes, as if peeling back layers of my soul. For a terrible second, he said nothing, and I fought the urge to crumble under his scrutiny. Then, in a voice pitched just for me, gentle yet commanding: "Are you ready to bind your soul to the Royal Pack?"
My throat constricted, desert-dry with fear and longing. "I am, Your Majesty," I whispered, the words carrying all my desperate hope for belonging.
A solemn nod, then he gestured to the far end of the square, where a low altar stood waiting. The simple block of pale wood seemed to glow in the morning light, the silver chalice at its center gleaming like a promise.
"Take the oath," said the King.
Each step toward the altar felt like walking through deep water. My hands trembled until I clenched them into fists, willing them steady. The weight of a hundred stares pressed down on me. I caught sight of Derick, his beautiful face tight with anxiety, his eyes burning into mine with such fierce protectiveness that my chest ached.
When I reached the altar, my fingers splayed across the wood, I felt a jolt—the grain warm and alive beneath my touch. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything but this moment. I closed my eyes, tears threatening at the corners, and poured every shattered piece of myself into the ancient words:
"I pledge my blood and breath to the Royal Pack," my voice broke slightly, then strengthened. "I am the moon's child, the kingdom's shield, the kin of all who share our bond. My loyalty is unbroken. My strength, unyielding. My heart belongs to my mate, my will to my Alpha. From this moment," I felt something inside me crack open, "I am Silvermoon."
The last word hung there, suspended. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then something snapped—not the familiar choking pressure of my old pack bond that had wrapped around my throat like Josh's fingers, but a sensation like diving into cool water after years of drought. An electric current shot up my arm, through my shoulder, and into my spine, expanding my lungs rather than crushing them. I gasped, every hair on my body standing rigid, not in fear but awakening. The courtyard vanished, replaced by a thousand pinpricks of light where before there had only been shadows and commands. I felt, with blinding clarity, the presence of every wolf in the Royal Pack—some bright and curious, others distant and guarded, but none pressing down on my will, none demanding submission. A corridor opened in my mind where walls had stood before, and I heard, as clearly as a whisper in my own ear:
*Cassy, I love you.* My head snapped to the side, where Derick grinned at me, confirming my Link. Something burst open inside my chest—warm and golden and unstoppable—and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face, so wide it hurt. For the first time in years, joy flooded through me, pure and unguarded.
The words came from everywhere and nowhere, but I knew instantly whose voice it was. Derick. His message came wrapped in a tidal surge of warmth, a balm for the electric ache still ringing through my nerves.
I blinked, and the world returned. My hand trembled on the altar, but I lifted it, the silver chalice already warming from my grip. I took a single sip, as tradition dictated. The liquid inside was cold and sweet, and as it slid down my throat, the sharp taste faded to something soft and floral, like a memory of wildflowers. The King's voice sounded again:
"Welcome, Cassandra Blackwater, to the Royal Pack. From this moment, you are kin to all who stand here."
The crowd above did not clap or cheer. Instead, a low, collective hum rose—a sound both ancient and entirely nonhuman. A wolf's approval, held in the throats of a thousand observers.
One by one, the other new members stepped forward, repeating the ritual. Some stumbled over the words, their nerves obvious. Others recited with the robotic precision of overpracticed theater. But each, when the oath was finished, shuddered as the pack bond latched onto them—some crying out, others swallowing the shock in stony silence.
I watched it all from my new place on the edge, my senses still ablaze. The link in my head thrummed like a tuning fork, each new voice joining the pack song. My throat tightened as I remembered my first initiation—sixteen and trembling in the Blackwater clearing, Josh's eyes burning into my back, his father's claws digging into my shoulder as he forced me to kneel. I'd bitten through my lip trying not to cry.
When the last initiate finished, King Theo nodded, satisfied. He raised a hand, and the sun crested the top of the eastern wall, spilling fresh light into the square. The warmth on my face felt like forgiveness. No bruises this time. No whispered threats. Just light and air and the steady hum of acceptance in my blood.
Derick moved to join me at the front of the line, his hand finding mine, fingers squeezing. I squeezed back, tears pricking behind my eyes. Three years ago, I'd believed I would die in that pack, Josh's possession. Now Derick's thoughts wrapped around mine like a shield, and for the first time since my father's murder, I felt something fragile unfurling in my chest: hope. The oaths were done. And ahead, the next stage waited—the one that would strip us down to fur and bone, and prove, before the entire kingdom, what kind of wolf I was always meant to be.
The first test had been for the mind and spirit. The next belonged to the beast.