The mirror had never felt like a friend, but tonight it felt like an accusation.
Ava stood before it in the dim gold light of her dressing room, watching the woman reflected back at her with something close to detachment — the carefully arranged hair, the gown that had been chosen for her, the pearl earrings that had belonged to Varder's mother and sat in her ears like small, elegant shackles.
She looked like exactly what the pack expected her to look like tonight.
The alpha's wife.
She pressed her hand flat against her stomach and breathed.
Simon.
