Chapter Fifty-Five
Calista
The room felt like it was narrowing in around us. Savage’s gaze finally flicked toward me. Heat hit my skin, sharper than any blade.
Possession. Relief. Something darker. Then it was gone, masked again. “We begin.” His tone was like iron.
Neris’s eyes widened. “We cannot.”
His attention snapped back to her. “We can, and we will.”
“We cannot,” she repeated, firmer this time. “Not without the Conclave. The rite must be witnessed, and the end must be sealed in law.”
Savage’s jaw tightened. “Then we will get to the end slowly.”
Neris stepped closer, lowering her voice, but the hall was so silent I heard every word anyway. “Your Majesty, if the Conclave is absent, it isn’t an oversight on their part. Someone has made sure of it.”
Savage’s fingers curled once at his side, then forced themselves open. “I am aware.” His gaze swept the hall, taking in the watching Wolvryn. The Courts, his supposed allies. The weight of their eyes.
Then his voice rang out, carrying across the temple. “We proceed to the binding.”
A wave of murmurs rose, uneasy and hungry. He ignored them all.
The priestesses moved like silver shadows, and the dais brightened under the moonlight. The air thickened with ancient elra, the Moon Temple’s walls pulsing in slow rhythm.
Neris mounted the steps, her voice lifting into the formal cadence I remembered from the last time we attempted this ritual, when I’d stood at Frostcrag’s chapel and thought I understood what I was walking into.
I hadn’t. Not at all.
Now, with the Moon Crown earned and my Edicts spoken, this rite was not me being offered. It was me being forged into something new.
The high priestess raised her hands. “Selraya of two faces,” she intoned. “Sel who heals. Raya who claims.”
The crowd echoed, soft and reverent.
I stepped forward and Sav—Thorne moved opposite me. He was close enough that I could feel him, molten heat under carved ice.
“Breathe, little wolf,” he whispered for my ears alone.
Glancing up at him, I only nodded, too afraid to loosen my tongue for fear of what might come out.
Neris’s gaze flicked between us, sharp. “Blood calls truth,” she said. “Truth calls bond. Bond calls law.”
A priestess brought forward the ceremonial blade, its edge shimmering like moonlight on water.
My pulse hammered.
Neris extended the blade toward me first. “Calista Vale of Hollowcrest, do you come to the temple of Selraya of your own will, bearing the Moon Crown’s claim and the weight of your Edicts?”
“I do,” I answered, voice steady even as my knees wanted to shake.
Then Neris turned the blade toward Savage. “Your Highness, Alpha of Frostcrag and King of the Wolvryn Courts of Lunaris, do you accept the Moon Crown’s queen and bind your body and Court to the protection of her law?”
Savage’s voice didn’t waver. “I do.”
A wave of warmth filled my chest, momentarily quelling the unease.
“Now, wrists.”
Savage reached for the cord, wrapping it around his arm then mine. My pulse jumped against the leather. Or maybe it was his touch.
“Speak your vow, Alpha King.”
His words were rough as he began, eyes locked on mine.
“I take you, Calista Vale, at my side in the hall and at my back in the field. I will not drown your voice with mine. When the moon is whole, I will be your steadiness and when the night is loud, I will be your quiet. Before Sel and Raya, I keep your truth, your name, and your breath safe.”
I traced the movement of his lips, awe filling my chest. The words struck something deep inside me.
“Now you, moon bride.” Neris nodded and handed me an ancient scroll.
My voice wavered for only a moment as I read from the weathered parchment.
“I take you, Alpha King, at my right in witness and at my side in storm. I will not turn your strength against you. When the moon is thin, I will be your light and when the road is cold, I will be your warmth. Before Sel and Raya, I keep your truth, your name, and your breath safe.”
A gruff sound of approval, something between a growl and a purr, vibrated across Savage’s massive chest.
The priestess bound us with the rope, and it seemed as if the entire hall held its breath alongside us. “Witnessed.”
Neris lifted her chin. “Now offer your blood.”
I took the blade and the cold of it bit into my palm.
I drew the edge across my skin, a clean slice right over the crescent mark.
Pain flared, along with a hint of satisfaction, at mutilating the damned symbol that had marked me as the prize bride for the past year.
The sting fell away, and my blood welled bright against my pale skin.
A flash of moonlight streaked through the temple’s skylight overhead. Savage didn’t move, but I felt his attention sharpen, like a wolf scenting blood. His nostrils flared and for an instant my thoughts drifted back to that mouth, that warm tongue…
The priestess took my hand, drawing me from the inappropriate musings, and pressed it to the stone pulpit of the dais. An ancient crescent groove waited there like a mouth. My blood filled it, glowing faintly as it sank into the stone.
Then Neris turned to Savage. He took the blade without ceremony and cut into his palm. Blood darkened his skin, and for a heartbeat, I saw the beast under his control push against the edges.
The priestess pressed his hand to the matching groove opposite mine and the crescent lines lit.
The hall went still.
The goddess’s sacred power, elra, rose like a tide. My skin prickled, the severed mark on my palm igniting in a slivery sheen. My lungs tightened, as if Selraya herself had leaned in.
Neris’s voice dropped, urgent now. “Step closer.”
Savage obeyed, and the gap between us vanished.
The priestess reached for our hands, pulling them together once again, blood to blood, palm to palm. Fiery heat slammed into me. The smoldering fire wasn’t sensual at first, it felt ancient and relentless.
My breath caught as something invisible tightened around my wrist, around my heart, like a thread pulled taut.
Sav—no, Thorne’s piercing gaze found mine, fingers closing around my hand. His thumb pressed once, steadying. “You’re shaking,” he murmured so low only I could hear. The tremor in my fingers eased the moment he touched me as if my body remembered how to be whole.
“I’m not.” I lied through clenched teeth as the glow beneath our palms intensified.
His gaze pinned me through iron, but he said nothing.
Neris lifted her hands in supplication, and the temple’s gemstone heart pulsed brighter.
A sound like thunder cracked through the immense chamber. The great doors banged open so hard the iron hinges shrieked. Wolvryn snarls erupted, and the crowd surged in a ripple of alarm.
Thorne’s head snapped toward the entrance, and our joined palms fell apart.
My stomach dropped as dark figures poured in.
Raiders. They moved with brutal coordination, dressed in dusky leathers and salt-stained cloaks, blades out, faces hard and hungry.
My heart lodged in my throat when I took in the males standing between them… The Alphas. All eleven of them, bound and gagged, dragged in like trophies.
Thorne moved a half step that put his enormous body between mine and the world.
My fingers instinctively reached for my crescent and rope, then a strangled sound caught and died in my throat when I remembered I’d left them in my chamber.
Frost damned the priestess and her rules regarding weapons in the temple.
Dorian stumbled in among the Alphas, wrists bound, and eyes weary. A bruised, furious gaze locked on mine for a heartbeat, then the raiders shoved him forward with the others.
Rage rolled off the king in a wave I could feel deep in my bones. His shoulders broadened as if the Wolvryn inside him surged, ready to tear free. His hands flexed, claws threatening beneath skin.
The hall vibrated with the sound of Wolvryn about to break restraint. We were only one day past the full moon. The Alphas should’ve still been able to summon their inner beasts.
Why hadn’t they?
A male stepped forward at the center of the raiders, swaggering like he belonged in sacred light. Tarrik. Even if I’d never seen him before, I knew by the way Savage regarded him. With pure, undiluted hatred.
“Well,” he drawled, voice carrying through the temple like rot. “Would you look at that. The mighty king’s mating ceremony.”
Savage’s voice was a growl wrapped in steel. “Tarrik.” The name hit the room like a curse.
Tarrik sneered, flashing teeth. “It’s been a long time, old friend. I thought you’d be more grateful. I brought you your Conclave all tied up with pretty bows.”
Thorne took one step forward, and the ground seemed to shudder beneath him.
Tarrik lifted a hand, casual. “Careful, Your Highness,” he said, mockingly gentle. “One twitch and I open throats. I’m sure Selraya would love that kind of blood spilled in her house.”
My skin went cold. Still, I searched the chamber for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Neris stood frozen on the dais, face pale as the stone, ceremonial blade clenched in her fist. If I could just get close enough…
Suri’s gasp came from somewhere in the crowd, small and terrified, distracting me. I tried to give her a reassuring smile. Eira stood beside her, face pale.
Savage’s breath suddenly went thick. I could practically hear the beast inside him slamming against bone. His Wolvryn wanted out now.
“And I have yet another gift for you on your wedding day.” Tarrik shifted to the side, and the raiders parted. Another figure stepped through.
For a heartbeat, my mind refused to make sense of what I saw.
The male who stood in the middle of the Blackwake looked just like Thorne. Not exactly the same but carved from the same line. Same height. Same hard edges. Same royal bone structure, much like Eira, as if Frostcrag had stamped them from the same brutal mold.