Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Elena
The woman in the mirror wore a white wedding gown, the neckline rimmed with tiny pearls, the skirt spreading around the vanity stool like a bloom past its prime.
I was about to marry into the legendary Hale family.
I stared at my reflection, barely recognizing myself.
My skin looked softer than before, my amber eyes catching the morning light with a shallow golden gleam.
My hair was pinned up, a few loose strands framing my face—the stylist called it "gentle and refined. "
Gentle. Refined.
"You're a Gray woman now. This is who you must be." That's what my mother told me. That's how she'd raised me these past years—the werewolf way. But I still felt disoriented. Had I really transformed from that human Elena?
Five years ago, I woke from a dizzy spell to find myself on a bed far too soft, silk covers brushing my chin. A middle-aged woman I'd never seen sat in the chair beside me. The moment I opened my eyes, she pulled me into her arms.
"I finally found you, my daughter!"
Daughter?
The word hit my brain like a brick. Everything went blank. She looked about forty, well-kept, with dark brown hair swept back, delicate features, and a cold elegance in her expression. Her eyes were amber—the same amber as mine.
"My name is Cecilia," she said, touching my face. "My child."
Her fingertips carried a faint fragrance that reminded me of sunlight and warmth. It made my nose sting. After twenty-some years of getting used to having no mother, she'd suddenly appeared—like a gift delivered too late.
She told me she'd gotten pregnant after a one-night stand with my father.
"You know how special mixed-blood status is here.
I was terrified back then." My mother pressed a handkerchief delicately to her eyes.
"So I had no choice but to give you to your father.
" Her voice caught. She gripped my hand. "Let me make it up to you now. Please?"
My eyes burned. I clutched the covers until my knuckles turned white.
"Okay," I said. "Mom."
She smiled and pulled me into her embrace.
Pressed against her shoulder, breathing in her faint perfume, only one thought circled through my mind—
My child.
I had to get him back.
She'd just said "let me make it up to you.
" She said she was from the Gray family—the Grays had power and influence in Silver pine, connections, guards, resources.
She had more ability to find someone than I did.
If I could use her power, her status, her resources, maybe I could get my son back. At least protect us from being killed.
"Mom." I pulled back from her embrace, gripping the covers, staring into her eyes. "There's something I need to tell you."
She smiled. "What is it?"
"I..." I took a deep breath. "I had a baby. Not even a month old. I left him at the guard station. Can you help me find out if he was adopted? I want to get him back."
My mother's expression froze. Less than half a second, almost imperceptible—but I saw it. Her smile didn't change, but something in her eyes went cold for an instant, quick as an illusion.
"You had a baby?" she asked.
"A werewolf's child." I lowered my head. "The father... I don't know him. I don't know who he is."
The room went quiet. She looked at me for several seconds. Then she laughed lightly and patted my shoulder, her voice brighter than I expected. "Of course I can help. You're back now. You're a Gray daughter. You have a mother, you have a family. One child isn't hard to manage."
My fingers twisted the covers tighter. "Really?"
"Really." She stood, smoothed her skirt. "You rest and recover. Don't worry about anything else. I'll send someone to the guard station tomorrow."
She glanced back at me from the doorway and smiled. "Get some rest. You need to learn how to be a werewolf, not that... human girl you used to be."
Her tone was gentle, but that pause—that half-second before "human girl"—made the hair on my neck stand up.
But she never mentioned it again. When I asked, she'd always say, "Elena, right now you need to focus on learning to be a werewolf.
" I'd look at her calm face and swallow my words.
I started learning how to be a werewolf, how to be a "Gray daughter.
" So I dropped out of school and threw myself in completely.
Werewolf etiquette, noble social codes, Moon Goddess rituals, pureblooded family genealogies—I stuffed it all into my brain, hoping that if I became good enough quickly enough, maybe then my mother would help me find my child.
But she didn't.
Gradually, I stopped asking. My mother... probably wasn't sincere. She didn't like that child—of course not. I was meant for a political marriage.
My heart sank, then lifted again.
No. I couldn't give up.
I searched for clues in secret, but the trail went cold fast. The guards at the station refused to say who'd adopted him. Even the records and paperwork were classified at the highest level.
Who took my child?
Did they treat him well? Were they hurting him?
I worried constantly. Then something else happened. My fragrance was banned too.
The first time my mother smelled my fragrance, she frowned. She looked at my bottles and vials with a strange smile—that look like she'd remembered something but was holding it back. "Werewolves are very sensitive to scents. Starting today, you're done making those things. Throw them out."
Her tone was flat.
I felt crushed. I'd already made her a blend, spent so much effort on it. My mother frowned, then relaxed and put her hand on my shoulder. "Elena, these don't match your Gray identity." She said I should use high-end perfumes instead.
"Elena, my dear daughter. You'll listen, won't you?"
I opened my mouth, looking at her calm face—just like before with the child.
I couldn't say anything. My mother carried a kind of authority that made me afraid to argue.
I was scared that if I did, something very bad would happen next.
And I loved her. I didn't want to make her angry or disappointed. So I listened. But not completely.
I packed those bottles and vials into an old wooden box, shoved it to the bottom of my closet, and buried it under winter clothes I never wore.
Sometimes when I couldn't sleep at night, I'd drag out the box, unscrew a bottle of rose oil, and hold it to my nose for a moment, then quickly cap it again, terrified the smell would drift out and my mother would find it.
That was the biggest compromise I could manage.
Sometimes, on sleepless nights, standing on the balcony, I'd think about that man. My wolf whimpered inside me. Over these five years, I'd learned enough to understand—it was mourning our mate.
When I learned about this in werewolf education, all I could see were flashes from that night—the dim golden light in the hotel suite, the scent of cedar and amber, him pinning me down, whispering in my ear, "You're mine."
So that was a fated mate.
So I hadn't been crazy.
I wanted to find him. But my mother told me I was meant for a political marriage. "This is for the honor of the Grays." She'd warn me. "That's why I had to leave your father..."
Every time she reached this part, she'd cry. My heart would ache for her. If that was the case, I could only bury the thought deep down—including my child—and wait to marry a man I barely knew and didn't love.
The day my mother told me about the marriage arrangement, I was learning tea ceremony.
She placed a letter on the tea table, her tone flat. "Hale, our King, is looking for a Luna. I've chosen you as the match."
The teacup in my hand wobbled. Hot liquid splashed my fingers. "What?"
"Exactly what I said." She lifted her own cup and took a sip, not looking at me. "Hale, King of Silver pine. You understand what that position means. You'll be Luna. It's good for our family. I wouldn't harm you. What else can a mixed-blood like you do if you don't marry a high-status man?"
I wouldn't harm you.
Doubt crawled onto my shoulders. My wolf let out a low whine. Unease settled in, but I clenched my hands and agreed. I thought—if I became Luna, maybe finding my child would be easier.
My mother nodded, the barely perceptible curve of her lips not escaping me. She was satisfied. She reached over and stroked my hair, her palm warm.
"Good girl. I knew you'd understand. But we need to hide your identity."
All these years, she'd kept me here. No one outside except her knew I was mixed-blood. My mother stood and locked the door.
She positioned herself in front of me, pressed her palm to my forehead, lips moving silently through words I couldn't understand—old werewolf language, maybe witch incantations.
A cold force seeped from her palm, flowing through my veins, finally condensing at the gland in my neck like a transparent shell.
My wolf convulsed violently, then woke up.
"There." She lowered her hand, stepped back. "From now on, all your scents will be covered, including your pheromones, including the lily and bay leaf. To everyone else, you'll smell like a werewolf with no scent."
No scent.
My eyes widened. "Mom, I thought you were only covering my mixed-blood scent?" A scentless werewolf? What would Hale's people think of me? "My mate—how will he recognize me?"
My mother laughed softly, elegantly. "Elena, you're just filling that position anyway. What does it matter if you have a scent or not? Mate? You're about to be Luna of Silver pine. Is there a better 'mate' for you than the King of Silver pine himself?"
Her attitude made my throat tighten. After she left, I stood there and realized I needed to breathe.
Anxiety grew from the bottom of my heart, nearly strangling it. No, I must be overthinking. My mother wouldn't speak to me with such coldness, like I wasn't her daughter but just a chess piece.