LUCY
The silence after my declaration falls like a heavy blanket. An oppressive one.
For one terrible second, it makes me question my resolve. Makes me wonder if I have just shattered my own dreams along with the expectations of everyone around me.
It is so quiet that I can hear the gentle wind caressing the leaves of the pines surrounding us. So still that my own irregular heartbeat echoes like thunder inside my ears.
I can even hear Doyle's breath being held captive.
He is so shocked that his mouth hangs open.
I like that look on him. I like it very much.
Then, as though the world remembers how to breathe, a roar of commotion erupts.
A frenzy of murmurs explodes around me like a disturbed hive, breaking apart the serene atmosphere.
Voices filled with disbelief and confusion, vibrating with shock and outrage, collide and create a chaotic symphony that almost drowns out the sound of my own pulse.
I can feel the weight of every curious gaze piercing through me.
The atmosphere, once sweet with lilies and celebration, suddenly tastes of copper and ozone.
I see elders and members of the royal cabinet leaning toward one another, whispering frantically. I see the representative from Solthera stiffen in offense, his brows rising in disbelief.
I don't blame them. Not really.
They came for a union. And I have given them a divorce before the marriage has even begun.
But I notice something else.
I can feel them watching Doyle suspiciously.
Good. Let them wonder.
My father steps forward then, his face ghastly.
His Alpha aura leaks out unconsciously, silver and commanding, vibrating with agitation.
"Lucy?" he demands. "What are you talking about? What is this nonsense?"
I don't look at Father. I don't look at Mother either, who I am sure is only seconds away from fainting.
Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the man I once thought was my forever.
"Doyle doesn't want me," I say, my voice steady, even though my heart is battering itself against my ribs. "He wants the healer's daughter. He wants Mina. I am simply setting him free, so he can stop living a lie in my shadow."
Doyle's handsome face passes through a kaleidoscope of emotions before settling on injured disbelief.
Of course.
He throws his hands up and turns partly toward the crowd, almost as if seeking support.
"Lucy, please," he says softly, his voice dripping with forced concern. "I know you've been stressed. I know the fire was a shock, but you're being insecure."
His blue eyes shine with pain. Fake pain.
"How can you say something so cruel to me? I have loved you since we were children."
His voice cracks beautifully. "And worse, you accuse your best friend? Mina has been nothing short of loyal to you."
I turn toward her out of curiosity.
Mina has already begun her performance.
Of course she has.
Her eyes are wet. Her lower lip trembles. Her hands clutch the fabric of her dress.
She looks so small. So fragile. So wounded. Never mind that she could probably snap the necks of half the men staring at her.
One tear escapes. Just one. She doesn't even defend herself.
She simply stares at me with wide, devastated eyes, as though I have just plunged a knife into her chest.
As though I am the traitor. As though she is the victim.
And really, that is enough.
It has always been enough for Mina.
The murmurs instantly change.
I hear them.
"She's lost her mind…"
"Poor Doyle. Imagine being accused of that on your wedding day."
"She's always been spoiled, but this…"
"I blame her parents. They shouldn't have made her think the sun rises from her ass."
"Can you imagine the audacity of a wolfless princess?"
"You still call her princess? She doesn't deserve the title."
"Pure Mina! She even accuses that girl."
"Maybe her cursed nature is finally affecting her mind."
"This girl is foolish. Doesn't she know she is lucky to have Doyle despite her wolflessness?"
"Doesn't she know she is lucky to have Mina as a friend?"
"So ungrateful."
"It's that pride. That stinking pride."
"Imagine accusing Doyle…"
They believe him.
Of course they do.
He is the golden warrior. Mina is the saintly healer. And I am just the wolfless princess throwing a tantrum.
Something inside me cracks. Not from surprise.
No. From disappointment.
Because somewhere deep down, I had still hoped.
Hoped someone would believe me. Anyone.
"I don't care if you believe me," I say quietly, looking toward the officiating elder. "I am asking to be rejected. The bond cannot be sealed in deceit."
My father closes the distance between us. His shadow falls over me. And I see it.
The shame. The humiliation. The anger.
He is a man of pride. In his eyes, I am dragging the Drakonia name through the dirt before Virelan, before Solthera—
Before the whole Dominion.
Soltherans never keep quiet.
"Call off this rubbish, Lucy," he growls. Dangerously. "Stop playing games with the throne."
His voice rises. "You are embarrassing your bloodline! If you do not proceed with this union right now, you forfeit your claim."
The world seems to stop.
"You lose your right to the throne."
His eyes burn into mine. "And you lose your place in this pack."
So… He doesn't believe me either.
Or maybe he does. But pride—
That cursed Drakonia pride… will not allow him to stand with me in public. Not while the crowd stands against me.
For a heartbeat, I waver.
Fear sinks its claws into me, because this wasn't my plan.
I wanted Doyle eating dust. I wanted Mina ruined. Not this. Never this.
I turn toward Mother.
Please. Believe me.
But her eyes are pleading too. Filled with desperate, frantic energy. Say yes.
Her lips tremble, but she says nothing.
Nothing.
And then, that ancient anger and pride rises within me again.
I am a princess, for gods' sake! I am an Alpha's daughter. And Father himself raised me never to crawl.
I would rather live as a stray in the wilderness than live as a cuckolded queen in a palace of lies. I will not bend.
"Then I lose it."
Father blanches because he hadn't expected that answer. He thought I would submit, that I would break and weep.
His pride becomes a cage. Even as regret flashes in his eyes, he cannot take back the ultimatum.
"Fine!" he bellows. "Then you are no longer of this pack!"
Gasps ripple through the crowd.
"You leave this ground and you do not return!"
Mother makes a strangled sound.
And for a moment, I almost break. Almost.
But I lift my chin. "I will go."
My voice shakes only slightly.
"But Doyle must reject the bond first."
I turn toward him.
"I will not carry his mark into my exile."
Doyle stares at me. And despite the sorrow painted across his face, I see it.
Triumph. Sweet, ugly triumph.
Because with me gone, he becomes the obvious heir. The son Father never had.
I clamp down on the whimper trying to escape my throat.
I lost.
Gods. I still lost. They will have my throne.
Is this truly the will of the Moon Goddess? I thought she was fair.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
Not now. Not before them. Not before him.
Doyle steps forward, places a hand over his heart, and with enough fake sadness to deserve an award, he says,
"Since you insist on destroying us, Lucy…"
A pause.
"I reject you."
Agony explodes inside me.
I physically feel the spiritual threads snap apart. It feels like someone has driven claws through my chest.
My knees nearly buckle. But I don't fall. I don't give him that satisfaction.
Instead, I level him with a bored look.
The confusion that flashes across his face is almost worth the pain.
My father doesn't even spare me another glance. He turns on his heel and storms away, his cape billowing behind him.
Mother hesitates for one second. Her tear-filled eyes meet mine, and hope blooms inside me.
She's coming.
She'll come.
She's my mother—
But then she turns, and goes after her husband. Ever the dutiful Luna.
The crowd begins dispersing, scandal buzzing through the air.
Some men even clap Doyle on the shoulder. Others pat his back, offering comfort, offering sympathy. As though he is the victim.
He leaves looking angry and wounded.
Mina rushes after him immediately.
Not a single person comes to me.
Not one.
So I remain standing in the center of the Sacred Grounds. Alone. Dressed in white silk, still clutching my bouquet in my hands, surrounded by the remains of a celebration that died before it even began.
A princess of nowhere.
And for the first time in my life, I truly understand what it means to be rejected.