Chapter 5 - Rosalia #2
Pine Shadow Grove was every bit the enchanted heart of the Iron Walkers.
Golden summer sun shone through ancient Pine branches, bathing the verdant meadow below in light.
Pollen from the wildflowers danced in the sunbeams, catching the hazy afternoon glimmer like tiny specks of glitter.
The soft hum of the assembled pack created a closed, almost magical energy, run through with the sweet scents of the flower garlands strung from the trees.
And yet, as she stood opposite Rick, repeating the vows Felix intoned, she might as well have been on a battlefield.
And standing across from her, Rick looked every inch the soldier.
His ceremonial robes were the traditional fighting leathers of the European wolf clans, complete with deadly blades at his hips.
With all the refinement of his suits stripped away, the full force of his animalistic power was revealed.
Bare arms corded with muscle, broad shoulders, sheer overwhelming size.
She had been right. His charming, modern handsomeness was merely a costume he wore.
This was the real thing.
As he spoke his vows to her, it was as if a marble statue of some Germanic warrior god had come to life. He certainly had all the warmth of stone.
Although he held her hands, looked into her eyes as he swore to be loyal and true, Rosalia felt no connection whatsoever to him. It was like she was a ghost, a floating inarticulate thing held together with a few ribbons and the heavy yoke of her father’s gaze.
It was only Eva’s face, shining and pure and happy, clutching a small bouquet of wild daisies and roses at her father’s side, that allowed Rosalia to feel the earth beneath her feet.
The vows were over in the blink of an eye. Rick did not kiss her. This wasn’t a human wedding.
Nor was it a mating ceremony. Not even her father’s blood oath could enforce a mating ceremony.
With a delicate emerald ring now on her finger, Rick stepped back, and she turned to Felix and knelt.
“Rosalia…Reinhardt,” he said.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“You come before the Iron Walkers of your own free will, asking to be sworn into our ranks. Do you come with loyalty in your heart, and the strength to stand beside us in times of peace and war alike?”
She stared at the grass beneath her, imagining the soft roots below, the wilderness all around her.
“I do.”
Felix paused. Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalia saw Rick’s bare feet planted in the grass. Motionless. Miles away.
She screwed her eyes shut.
“Repeat after me,” Felix said, his voice soft. “I pledge myself to the Iron Walkers.”
She could smell the forest. The trees. “I pledge myself to the Iron Walkers.”
“To their safety, their strength, and their future.”
“To their safety, their strength, and their future.”
Felix’s voice rose, deep and commanding. “I offer my knowledge, my loyalty, and my blood.”
She wondered if she breathed out hard enough, would her spirit escape her? Escape this? Float away on the breeze?
“I offer my knowledge, my loyalty, and…and my blood.”
“In return,” Felix said, “we offer you our name, our protection, and our bond. Rise, Rosalia Reinhardt of the Iron Walkers. You are one of us now.”
Her heart thudded a dull rhythm in her chest. There had been a moment there where she existed between beings, still a member of the Green Mountain Pack and yet married to an Iron Walker, and therefore had a claim to the void between them.
A moment where she was just Rosalia.
It had been nice. For a few seconds, at least.
Rick was no longer standing to the side when she rose, accepting Felix’s hand. She spied him stalking towards the other high-ranking Iron Walker males, people melting away from him as if he radiated poison.
She ignored the painful tug at her heart, the sting of embarrassment. Instead, she thanked Felix and turned to give Eva a hug. The little girl was utterly jubilant, telling her she looked like a princess, a forest fairy, a wolf maiden from one of her stories.
“And which stories are those?” Rosalia asked, kneeling down.
“Tales of the Alpine Wolves,” Eva said, “Papa reads it to me before bed sometimes.”
“I should like very much to read those stories too, if you’d let me?”
Eva grinned. “Of course! I think you’ll like one called The Wolf and The Moon. That one’s my favorite. It’s about a moon goddess who falls in love with a rogue alpha!”
Rosalia smiled. “Then I shall read that one first.”
Daisy, Cassie, and Lola appeared, pulling her towards the pack, embracing her as their new sister.
The following few hours passed in a blur of introductions and congratulations and thanks.
She met all the pack children, her heart warming to see them so carefree and happy.
She talked to the women, blushed at their compliments, and marveled at their ease, their community.
It soothed something within her, something sharp and spiked, calming it down until she found herself truly laughing.
Rick hadn’t come over to talk to her once.
She didn’t mind.
There would be time for that…later.
The sun was beginning to set by the time Rosalia excused herself to fetch a glass of elderflower cordial from the refreshments table.
The children were calming, their racing games relaxing into happy, chattering circles, watched over by the alphas of the pack.
The women talked and laughed, and Rosalia felt a pang in her chest for Katie.
Her father hadn’t allowed Katie to come. He had told her not to be sentimental and that she needed to think tactically. Needed to make inroads with the females of her new pack.
As she sipped her cordial, partially obscured by the shadow of a pine, her eyes tracked over the crowd.
While most were happy and celebrating, her new husband was ensconced with some of his friends, fire and shadow warring over his face.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
“Enjoying your wedding, my dear?” her father’s voice came from over her shoulder.
She didn’t react. Didn’t jump. Didn’t even turn. But a ripple of goosebumps spread over her shoulders and down her arms, her senses narrowing to his stalking figure behind her.
“It’s beautiful, Father. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Is that so?” her father sneered, stepping forwards. “Of course, it’s not over yet.” She glanced up at him, her throat seizing. “There is what comes after.”
Hastily, she looked down at the ground, mortification creeping up her neck. “I know what happens next, Father.”
He hummed, hands behind his back, fingers tapping. “I expect you to make him happy.”
She stood rooted to the ground, unsure what to say, what to even think. Of course, she knew what marriage entailed. Knew what occurred between a husband and wife on their wedding night. But in the maelstrom of the past week, she hadn’t had time to think about it, to begin to imagine it.
Perhaps she had been purposefully avoiding the thought. Ducking away and hiding from it, far too overwhelmed to open the gates to the flood of emotions that would no doubt follow.
She had never come close to kissing a male, let alone…
It was at times like these that she yearned for her mother. Not only for the comforting embraces and knowing words, but also for the reassurance that the woman who had come before her had not only survived, but thrived.
Of course, she did not have that reassurance, only the gaping void of her mother’s absence. And an untraversed bridge she would have to cross alone.
“I will make him happy, Father. I promise.”
Her father grunted, looking her up and down. “I dare say you will. If he hurts you, don’t scream. He may be the sort of male who abhors histrionics, but besides, behavior like that is undignified.”
More undignified than hurting someone?
She wanted to rage at her father. Wanted to scream. The edges of her vision blurred, and she recognized her wolf taking over.
With a deep, calming breath, she forced it to retreat. And her wrath ebbed away with it.
“Come,” her father said. If he had noticed her momentary lapse in control, he did not comment on it. After all, he had already won his battle.
She followed after him like a woman condemned. Whatever spirit she’d gathered in that sunlit grove had already bled into the dirt.