Fated Error

CHAPTER TWO – THE CORRECTION

Aeris’ POV

The hall did not truly return to normal after Cael’s announcement. The music resumed, laughter followed, and glasses clinked as they always did on Unity Night, but the celebration had thinned into something brittle. The pack had heard him. Every wolf in the room understood that a decision was coming, and the anticipation hung in the air like the weight of an approaching storm.

I kept my posture straight and my expression composed. Alpha-born daughters were trained from childhood not to crumble under scrutiny. My mother used to say composure was sharper than any blade, that silence could win battles emotion never would. Tonight, composure felt less like a weapon and more like armor already cracking under strain. I was genuinely tired of being strong for appearance sake.

Cael did not return his hand to my waist. That hurt more than I could imagine. I needed him to be my strength right now. The absence unsettled me more than his grip had. Wolves approached him in careful clusters: elders first, then council members, then the heads of prominent bloodlines. Their voices were low, controlled, but every so often, one of them would glance toward me before quickly looking away. It was not reverence in their eyes. It was scrutiny.

If I moved closer to Cael, I would appear insecure. If I remained where I stood, I would appear excluded. There was no position that preserved dignity without sacrifice. Beneath my ribs, the mate bond pulsed faintly, thin and irregular. It did not comfort me. It did not warm me. It strained, as though aware it was being weighed and measured without consent. All I wanted was Cael’s warmth but I couldn’t even have that.

“Luna Aeris.”

I turned at the sound of Eldric Thorvane’s voice. Cael’s Beta approached with measured steps and an expression too neutral to trust. He had always been courteous to me, but it was the kind of courtesy one extended to something fragile. I know he never really treated and regarded me as Luna, he only respected Cael and fate.

“You look pale,” he observed.

“I’m fine,” I replied evenly.

“You should rest if the festivities overwhelm you,” he said, his tone smooth.

The suggestion was polite. The meaning was not. I was not needed. He very well should have just gone straight to the point and said that.

“Unity Night is hardly overwhelming,” I answered.

His smile sharpened slightly. “No,” he agreed. “But transitions can be.”

The word settled heavily in my chest. Transition. The bond reacted instantly, tightening beneath my sternum with a flash of heat. I steadied my breathing.

“What transition?” I asked.

“The pack thrives when its leadership is stable,” Eldric replied.

Stable. The word echoed uncomfortably. Before I could press further, he inclined his head and stepped away, leaving the implication to fester.

Across the hall, Cael stood at the center of a tightening circle. Elders leaned toward him, their postures tense but deferential. I recognized the formation. I had seen my father stand like that before announcing war or exile. It was not discussion. It was preparation. Then, they moved to the council chambers, Cael included.

The bond fluttered unevenly again, like a heartbeat losing rhythm.

Something was wrong.

I slipped away from the center of the hall, moving between carved columns toward the corridor that led to the council chambers. The further I walked, the more the music faded into a distant hum. Voices echoed ahead, urgent and restrained.

I stopped just short of the chamber doors.

“…cannot afford uncertainty,” one elder was saying.

“It weakens perception,” another added. “The neighboring packs are already questioning the bond.”

Bond. My stomach tightened.

Cael’s voice followed, calm and controlled. “The pack will not be ruled by instability.”

Instability.

“The Luna must embody strength,” Eldric continued. “If the bond falters publicly, it invites doubt. Doubt invites challenge.”

My fingers grew cold. They were not speaking abstractly.

“The bond is flawed,” an elder murmured.

The word struck with startling force. Flawed implied defect. Implied liability.

“I will correct it,” Cael said.

Ice flooded my veins.

“And the girl?” someone asked quietly.

The girl. Not Luna. Not Aeris.

“She will be handled,” Cael replied.

The bond constricted violently, a sharp pain radiating through my chest. I stumbled back, pressing a hand against my sternum as if that could steady what was unraveling inside me. Handled. The word echoed with brutal clarity. Not consulted. Not protected. Handled.

Like a problem.

I retreated down the corridor before they could sense me. My breathing had grown shallow, uneven. This was not alliance negotiation. This was removal.

I nearly collided with Lyra, my sister as I turned the corner. She caught my arms instantly, her sharp gaze scanning my face.

“What happened?” she asked.

“They’re planning something,” I whispered.

“About the alliance?”

“About me.”

I told her what I had heard. With each word, her expression hardened.

“That’s impossible,” she said at first, but doubt flickered in her eyes. Because we both knew the bond had never felt right. It had always lacked something; warmth, balance, certainty. I had convinced myself it was adjustment, that love required endurance and that Cael was just busy with alpha duties and the pack.

“If he humiliates you tonight, I will not let you stay,” Lyra said firmly.

“He wouldn’t,” I answered automatically, though it was just a whisper of words. I didn’t even have the confidence because Cael was just that unpredictable.

The ceremonial gong sounded from the hall, deep and resonant. They were reconvening.

When we returned, the pack had formed a wide semi-circle. Cael stood at the center, composed and unshaken. His eyes found mine immediately, and the bond tightened once more before flickering uncertainly.

I took my place beside him, spine straight, chin lifted. If I was to be discarded, I would not shrink.

“Leadership requires strength,” Cael began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. “Clarity and stability. Recently, certain irregularities have threatened that stability.”

My pulse roared in my ears. In my mind, I just laughed, what now? Irregularities..?

“The future of this pack will not be compromised by flawed fate,” he continued.

Flawed fate. Wow, just wow. This was just laughable. The bond reacted violently, and then, without warning, it went silent. The silence was worse than pain. It left a hollow absence beneath my ribs, as though something vital had withdrawn. My chest felt like it was on fire and definitely not the good type of fire, I felt like I was burning from my insides out.

“Therefore,” Cael concluded, “a correction must be made. The formal declaration will be made before the night concludes.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. I understood then. This was not speculation. Not political maneuvering. It was inevitability.

Cael met my gaze briefly, and for a fleeting moment I thought I saw something flicker there, fear, perhaps, but it vanished too quickly to be certain. Maybe, just maybe Cael felt something for me also and he was equally scared to lose me.

He was not rejecting me because he despised me.

He was rejecting me because I frightened him.

Because uncertainty threatened control.

And Cael Thorvane would destroy anything that threatened control.

Even fate.

The bond did not return.

And for the first time since it formed, I felt completely alone.