Rejected By The Mate

Ruined Silk

Luna

The silence that followed Mia’s departure was louder than her screaming. I sat on the cold, splintered floor, my fingers clutching the shredded remains of the Silver King’s coat.

The expensive wool was now just a collection of jagged rags. The soft fur that had once kept me warm in the frozen woods was scattered like dead leaves across the dust of my attic.

My heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, mirroring the shattered glass of the mirror on the wall. I gathered the largest piece of fabric—a scrap that still held the faint, smoky scent of cedar—and pressed it against my cheek.

"I’m sorry," I mouthed into the empty room. I was apologizing to the coat. I was apologizing to the King.

I felt like I had failed a test. He had given me a gift of protection, and I had allowed my family to turn it into trash.

Suddenly, the door creaked open again. I flinched, pulling the rags closer to my chest, expecting Mia to return for more blood.

But it wasn't Mia. It was Ben, my older brother.

Ben was the golden boy of the Valeraine pack, a warrior who lived for the thrill of the hunt and the sound of breaking bones. He stepped into the room, his heavy boots crushing the pieces of fur I hadn't been able to reach.

"Still crying over a pile of laundry, Luna?" Ben asked, his voice dripping with a casual, lazy cruelty.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his muscular arms. He looked at the wreckage of my room with a bored, mocking expression.

"Mia told me you had a trophy from the King," Ben said, his amber eyes scanning the floor. "I didn't believe her. I didn't think even a King could be that blind to your filth."

I looked up at him, my eyes burning with a mix of fear and hatred. I tried to stand, but my legs felt like lead.

Ben walked toward me, his presence filling the small attic until the air felt thin. He reached down and snatched the scrap of fabric from my hand.

"This is it?" he mocked, turning the silver-threaded cloth over. "This is what you're pinning your hopes on? A piece of trash from a man who probably forgot your face the second he turned his back?"

I reached for it, a small, desperate sound escaping my throat. Ben only laughed, holding the cloth high above my head where he knew I couldn't reach.

"You really are pathetic, little sister," Ben hissed, his face darkening as he leaned down toward me. "You think because a King felt sorry for a stray dog, it makes you special? You think you're going to be a Queen?"

"Give... it..." I mouthed, my fingers clawing at the air.

"You want this back?" Ben sneered. He dropped the cloth, but before I could grab it, he ground the heel of his boot into the silver embroidery, twisting it into the dirt.

"There," he said, stepping back. "Now it’s just as dirty as you are. Don't get ideas, Luna. You’re a Valeraine in name only. You have no wolf. You have no fire. You're just a mouth we have to feed out of pity."

I crawled toward the cloth, my heart hammering against my ribs. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him that he was the monster, not me.

"Ben! That’s enough. Leave the creature alone."

A sharp, feminine voice cut through the air like a blade. My mother, Zara Valeraine, stood in the doorway.

She didn't look at me with anger. She looked at me with something far worse: complete and utter disappointment. To Zara, I wasn't a daughter; I was a stain on her perfect life.

"Mother," Ben said, straightening up and giving her a respectful nod. "I was just reminding the Mute of her place before the Pairing begins."

Zara walked into the room, her silk dress rustling against the dusty floorboards. She looked at the shredded coat, then at my tear-stained face.

"Mia told me what happened," Zara said coldly, her voice flat and devoid of any motherly warmth. "She was right to destroy that thing. It was a distraction. A delusion you couldn't afford."

She stepped over the ruins of my hope as if it were common street waste. "You are turning eighteen soon, Luna. The Great Pairing is a week away. Do you understand what that means for this house?"

I looked at her, my breath catching in my throat. Was she actually going to let me attend the ceremony? Was there a chance?

"Don't look so hopeful, child," Zara snapped, her eyes narrowing until they were like shards of ice. "You will be there, but only as a servant. You will wait on the High House daughters. You will pour their wine and wash their feet."

The words felt like a physical blow to my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. I was to be a servant at my own Mating ceremony.

"We must show the King and the other Alphas that the Valeraines do not hide their mistakes," Zara continued, her voice rising. "We put them to work. You will show the world that you are nothing but a maid in your own home."

"Please..." I mouthed, my eyes pleading with her.

"Do not 'please' me with those silent lips!" Zara shouted, her hand flying out to strike me across the face.

The blow sent me sprawling back into the wreckage of the coat. My cheek burned, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

"And as for this garbage..." Zara pointed to the shredded coat. "Clean it up. If I see a single thread of this 'Silver King' nonsense left in this room by tonight, I will have Ben throw you into the dungeons."

She turned to Ben, ignoring my muffled sob. "Come. Your father, Thor, wants to discuss the border patrols. We have no more time to waste on attic dramas."

Ben gave me one last, mocking grin, kicking a pile of shredded wool into my face before following her out. The door slammed shut, and I heard the heavy click of the lock.

I was alone again. Truly, deeply alone in the dark.

I looked down at the pile of rags. My mother wanted me to throw them away. She wanted me to erase the memory of the King’s mercy.

But as I sat there, a cold, hard resolve began to form in my chest. It was a feeling I had never felt before—a sharp, jagged edge of defiance.

They had taken my voice. They had broken my mirror. They had torn my coat.

But they couldn't take the memory of how I felt when Fenris looked at me. They couldn't take the way my blood sang when his hand touched my skin.

I began to gather the scraps of the coat, one by one. I didn't throw them away. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

I pulled out a small, rusted sewing kit from a hidden hole in the floorboards. My fingers were shaky, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been.

I couldn't fix the coat. It was too far gone, ripped by the hands of a jealous wolf.

But I could turn it into something else. Something hidden. Something powerful.

I began to sew the scraps together into a small, flat pouch. I worked through the afternoon and into the night, the needle pricking my skin until my own blood stained the dark wool.

I didn't care about the pain. Each stitch was a promise. Each knot was a vow against the people who shared my name but not my heart.

"I will not be a servant," I whispered in my mind. "I will not be forgotten."

I would go to the Great Pairing. I would stand in that hall, even if I had to carry trays of wine and suffer their insults.

And I would carry this pouch against my heart. I would carry the King's scent with me into the den of the wolves.

By the time the moon was high, the pouch was finished. I tucked a small, unbroken shard of my shattered mirror inside it, along with the scrap of the silver crest.

I tied the pouch around my neck with a piece of twine, hiding it beneath my thin, flour-stained tunic. The weight of it felt like a secret weapon against my skin.

Mia thought she had destroyed my dreams. Ben thought he had crushed my spirit. My mother thought she had turned me into a slave.

They were all wrong.

I looked out the window at the rising moon. It was the same moon that had watched the King save me from James.

"I am still here," I mouthed to the night sky, feeling the pulse of the King's cedar scent against my chest.

I wasn't a wolf. I wasn't a warrior. I was just a girl with a piece of a King's coat.

But in a world of monsters, a secret can be more dangerous than a claw.

I lay down on my bare mattress, my hand clutching the pouch over my heart. The scent of cedar and silver was faint, but it was there, grounding me.

I closed my eyes, imagining the look on Fenris’s face when he saw me again. Would he recognize the girl he saved? Or would he see the servant my family wanted me to be?

"Wait for me," I thought, the darkness of the room no longer feeling like a cage.

I didn't know the answer yet. But for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of the future.

I was waiting for it. Because in the dark, even a ghost can become a nightmare.

And I was tired of being the one who was hunted.