Chapter 1 Wedding Day Betrayal

[[The Northern Kingdom of Velmira. Home of Wolf Shifters]] *** ~~PRINCESS LYRIC VAELGOR~~ *** The happiest day of my life was supposed to be my wedding day. Or so I thought. I was glowing with joy, counting down the minutes until I became Jorath Dainvale's wife—the Beta's son, my perfect match. I couldn't wait one more second, couldn't wait to stand before the world and vow myself to him forever. What I didn't know, however, was that I’d be walking into a trap, that I’d be betrayed by everyone I loved that day. "Where are we going, Uncle?" I asked. My uncle, Alpha Tiberan Vaelgor, the Alpha Regent of our pack, was leading me away from the castle gates and into the woods. “To meet your groom, Lyric,” he replied. "Do we have to walk this far? I'm tired, and these shoes are killing me.” "Be patient, Lyric. You'll be with him soon enough." I'd been awake since dawn, enduring hours of preparation—servants scrubbing my skin until it gleamed, arranging my hair with moonstone beads, painting my face with the traditional markings of a royal bride. My feet ached. The corset beneath my gown bit into my ribs. I found it ridiculous that after putting so much effort into my looks, I had to trudge through these woods with every thorny branch and grasping vine snagging my gown. But I swallowed my protests. In less than an hour, I'd be Jorath's wife. And in a few months, when I turned twenty-three, I would take my rightful place as Alpha of ShadowHowl Pack. Then Uncle Tiberan would no longer order me around. "Here we are," Uncle Tiberan announced, stopping abruptly in a small clearing. I glanced around, confused. "Where are the other people?" I asked. My wolf, Oryx, was growling now, sensing danger. Something was very, very wrong. Just then, a figure stepped out from behind a massive oak tree. I recognized my groom, Jorath Dainvale—tall, broad-shouldered, with his dark hair pulled back in the traditional groom's braid. My Jorath, the beta's son, the boy I'd loved since we were children playing in the castle courtyard. I smiled. But my smile faded when I saw who he was holding in his arms. Mae. Uncle Tiberan’s first daughter, my cousin, my best friend. She was wearing a wedding gown. Not just any wedding gown—a perfect mirror of my own, down to the last pearl and moonstone. I stared at them, still trying to piece together the image in front of me. "Jorath? Mae? What's going on?" Mae stepped forward, smiling. "You made it, Lyric." "Of course I did. It's my wedding. Why are you with Jorath? What's with the gown? Bridesmaids don't wear white." “Isn't it obvious? Jorath and I are getting married.” The world stopped for half a second. Then I laughed. “Stop playing around. Where are the other guests?” Mae wasn't laughing, though. "You think I'm joking? You think I’d wear a gown just to make you laugh? Jorath and I are together. We’ve been together all along, Lyric." They were taking this prank too far. I turned to Jorath, searching his face for some sign of laughter. He'd never been good at pranks. You could always tell from his face. He wasn't smiling. "Jorath, what the hell is she talking about?" I asked. He wouldn't meet my eyes. "There'll be no wedding, Lyric. Mae's the one I love. She's pregnant with my baby.” I couldn't believe this. I must have been dreaming. “You’ve been fucking my cousin behind my back?” “We wanted to tell you, Lyric, but we knew you'd react badly, just as you’re doing now. Your uncle has given us a way out." A way out? What did that even mean? I whirled to face Uncle Tiberan, and that's when I noticed that his guards had moved to form a circle around me. Their hands were no longer hovering near their weapons—they were drawn, blades gleaming in the moonlight. "Don't do anything stupid, Lyric," Uncle Tiberan warned, his hand moving to his own sword. Ice replaced the blood in my veins. "What is going on, Uncle? What did you do?” "What I should have done a long time ago. I can't let you ascend the throne. You're not fit to rule this pack.” My wolf was raging now, clawing at my insides, demanding to be set free. "You're such a snake, Uncle. Attacking me in the middle of a forest? I should have known you would betray me.” "Your father was a traitor to the emperor, Lord Draekor, and his seed should never rule our pack. I'm giving you a way out that doesn't involve a massacre. I’m offering you to the emperor." The words didn't make sense at first. Offering me? Like a gift? Like a sacrifice? My real father—High Alpha Lazareth Vaelgor—was the strongest werewolf the Northern Kingdom had ever known. The leader who'd given his life fighting in the rebellion against the Demon King, Lord Draekor Malzareth. Both my father and mother had died that day, their heads presented on spikes to their people as a warning against further insurrection. I had been just a child, too young to remember much beyond the screams and the smell of burning flesh. Too young to take the throne. So Uncle Tiberan had stepped in as regent, ruling in my stead until I came of age. And now, with my twenty-third birthday approaching, I was finally going to claim what was rightfully mine. And Uncle Tiberan wanted to steal it from me? "That throne is my birthright," I snarled. "How dare you try to take it from me?" My wolf surged forward, feeding my rage. I pointed at Mae and Jorath, baring my teeth. "I'm going to kill all of you. I'm going to tear that baby out of your womb and feed it to you, you backstabbing bitch." Mae took a step back, fear finally flashing across her face. Good. She should be afraid. I could tell that everyone felt it—the raw, untamed power of Oryx thrashing beneath my skin. Even the guards shifted uneasily, their grips tightening on their weapons. Not many Alpha wolves in Velmira were as strong as Oryx. And if she were let loose, it wouldn't be a fair fight. "You can't do anything, Lyric. You're surrounded,” Mae said, but her voice trembled. I lunged for her throat, my fingers already lengthening into claws, my teeth sharpening into fangs— Something cold and heavy snapped around my neck. The pain was immediate and blinding. Like a thousand knives plunging into my flesh all at once. I dropped to my knees, my transformation halting as my wolf howled in agony. "Take it off," I gasped, clawing at the metal collar now locked around my throat. Silver, definitely silver, and something else—the acrid smell of wolfsbane burned my nostrils. "Please take it off. It burns." They all just watched as I writhed on the forest floor, my beautiful gown now stained with dirt and my own blood where my nails had torn at my neck. Not one of them moved to help. Not even Jorath, who had once sworn he would die for me. "Don't struggle, Lyric," Uncle Tiberan said, his voice almost gentle, as if he were speaking to a wounded animal. "You'll only make it worse. The King's representative will be here soon." I turned to Jorath, desperation overriding pride. "Help me, please. Please, Jorath."