The ceremony was not large.
It was exactly what I had asked for. The people who were genuinely ours. The founding family representatives standing with the particular solemnity of people witnessing something they had waited generations to see. The twelve Vayne-adjacent wolves seated at the back, still settling into a welcome they had not expected to receive so quickly. The senior warriors in their formal lines. Bren near the front, arms crossed, trying and failing to look unmoved. The kitchen woman, who had given me coffee on my first morning in this packhouse and now stood with her hands folded against her apron as if she had dressed for the occasion specifically. Rowan beside Caden's place at the front. Lillian. Maren. Lena at the edge of the room with her hands folded, present, honest,
