The Other Maddox
? Ivy ?
The court has left Roman Maddox at the western pillars, apart from King Grant and the royal family. He wears none of their ceremonial black and gold.
Instead, he looks as if he was invited because the law required it, then placed where no one would have to remember him unless something went wrong. And something has gone wrong.
My fingers close harder around the broken stems of my moon lilies.
He’s taller than Jace. Broader too, built with none of the prince’s polished softness.
His black coat is plain and fitted for movement rather than display, and his collar sits open at his throat.
His dark hair hasn’t been softened by court hands.
It’s too long at the ends, falling near a face made harsher by the pale scar cutting from cheekbone toward jaw.
Jace’s uncle. The king’s brother. The throne’s weapon.
I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. Sent to the northern wars before he was twenty, marked by a broken vow.
He walks down the aisle toward the altar, every step measured. He doesn’t look at the court, Sloane, or me. Instead, as he stops several steps from the altar, he looks at Jace.
The air changes with him close. He hasn’t raised his voice, made a threat, or done anything but stand there. Yet the room still feels smaller.
Elder Rowan’s thin fingers tighten on the ceremonial blade. “Lord Roman,” he says carefully.
Roman doesn’t answer the elder. His eyes stay on Jace. “What did you say?”
Jace’s mouth curves faintly. It isn’t a real smile. It’s the kind of smile princes use when they want cruelty to look like confidence.
“I said there’s another Maddox Alpha present,” Jace says. “The council chose her for the Maddox line. Not merely for me.”
The word lands on my skin like cold ash, her.
Jace turns slightly toward the room. “The throne can’t carry the debt. Roman is a Maddox Alpha, and he has no active vow.”
A few wolves shift in their seats.
My pulse beats in my throat.
Jace looks toward the elders. “Give her to Roman.”
The words don’t sound like rescue. They sound like disposal.
My hand tightens around the flowers until another stem breaks. The moonflower paste on my wrist burns colder. The arch flickers once. The white flames along the aisle bend.
A small, sharp sound comes from Marissa. Not because she’s offended, or because Jace rejected me, but because his solution might leave my humiliation attached to the Brooks name.
Wade rises halfway from the front row. His face has gone cold enough to look carved. “The Brooks family entered this alliance in good faith.”
His voice is steady and controlled, the voice of a man discussing broken treaty terms, not a girl standing barefoot with crushed flowers in her hand.
Jace inclines his head. “And the Maddox family will answer in good faith.”
My mouth almost trembles. I press my lips together until the feeling stops.
Marissa leans toward Wade, but her eyes stay on me. Her voice drops low enough that only the nearest wolves should hear.
“Your mother’s blood finds a stage everywhere.”
The words slide under my veil and tighten behind my ribs.
Sloane presses both hands to her mouth. Her eyes shine and from a distance, she looks devastated. But up close, I can see the satisfaction layered beneath it.
The elders begin speaking over one another.
“The royal vow has opened.”
“The debt can’t be ignored.”
“Roman Maddox holds Alpha blood.”
“The bride’s consent must be recorded.”
“The north may refuse a court Luna.”
“The prince has refused publicly. The stain has already begun.”
Bride. Debt. Blood. The council turns me into a legal problem before anyone remembers I’m standing among them. No one says my name.
The vow ribbon lies at my feet, one end still twisted around the empty place where Jace’s hand used to be. The other end brushes my toes. Its white silk has darkened at the edges.
I feel myself becoming smaller in the center of all their words. A failed match. A legal inconvenience.
Roman lifts one hand, that’s all he does and the elders stop.
Roman’s voice is low when he speaks. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
Jace gives a faint, practiced laugh. “I’m solving the problem.”
“No.” Roman’s eyes stay on him. “You rejected her in front of the kingdom. Now you’re trying to hand her off.”
Jace’s eyes flash. “Careful, Uncle.” Roman steps closer without answering.
Jace’s smile hardens. “You need a Luna. She needs a Maddox Alpha. The law can settle the rest.”
Roman’s gaze drops briefly to the ribbon at my feet, then to my crushed flowers, then back to Jace.
My fingers go numb around the stems. I don’t know why the words hurt. Maybe because they should be obvious. Maybe because no one in my life has ever treated obvious things as if they belonged to me too.
Roman finally turns his head, but not to me. He looks at the room.
His gaze passes over the elders, over Wade, over Marissa, and over the king seated high and silent beneath the royal crest.
“Has anyone asked her?”
Elder Rowan’s gaze flicks toward me, then away. Wade’s mouth tightens. Marissa’s eyes sharpen. Sloane lowers her lashes again.
Jace’s expression cools. “This is no time for sentiment.”
Roman’s mouth doesn’t move, but something in his face turns colder. “Consent isn’t sentiment.” The arch flickers again.
This time, everyone sees it. The white flames bend toward the altar, their pale tips thinning into sharp points. The moonflower paste on my wrist bites so cold I nearly gasp.
Elder Rowan steps forward, his silver robes whispering against the stone. “The law is clear.”
“The vow has opened beneath witness. Prince Jace Maddox has refused. The Maddox line owes answer before moonset, or the debt falls across the royal claim.”
Roman’s eyes settle on me, and everything inside me goes quiet.
His gaze moves over the tight veil, crushed lilies, and cold mark on my wrist. He notices how carefully I’m standing.
Then his eyes lift to my face.
“Ivy.” Roman takes one step closer, then stops far enough away that his shadow doesn’t touch my bare feet. “Did you agree to this?”
My lips part, but no words come.
I know the answer. I didn’t agree to be rejected, handed to Roman as debt, or left here while Jace made my shame useful.
But the answer is trapped behind years of training.
Girls like me don’t say no in rooms like this, not with Wade watching, Marissa warning, and the king’s silence pressing down.
Jace shifts beside the altar. “Ivy.”
I look at him, and for a moment, I see the boy I tried to imagine into a husband. The prince I studied across formal dinners. The man whose smallest kindnesses I kept and polished into hope. He looks impatient now.
I understand then with a clarity so clean it hurts. Jace didn’t reject me because he couldn’t bear to lie. He rejected me because he believed the room would help him survive the cruelty. And it has.
If I say no, the rite fails. The Maddox line carries debt. Wade will take me home with silence sharper than shouting. Marissa will remind me that my mother ruined herself. Sloane will smile softly over breakfast and ask if I slept at all.
If I say yes, I become Roman Maddox’s wife. The thought should be absurd. Instead, it steadies something shaking inside me.
Elder Rowan clears his throat. “Miss Brooks must answer before the moon lowers further.”
“Ivy, did you agree to this?” Roman asks.
I look at Jace, the prince who was supposed to make me queen and made me a spectacle instead, then at Sloane and Marissa. Finally, I look at Roman. My fingers curl around the last unbroken moon lily. “No,” I say.