The Alpha Princess and Her Enemy

Marking Ceremony

Wrenna POV

“Oh my Goddess, where is she?!” Wrenna’s heart hammered as her fingers twisted into the soft fabric of her marking dress. The Council hadn’t just been notified—they were already here. The assholes.

She peaked out from behind the door of the mudroom they usually used after training. It had now been transformed into her dressing room. Nerves coursed through her. Her mind raced. She was at her own marking ceremony, and if her auntie didn’t come through for her, this would actually be happening.

“Where—”

“Wrenna!” Brax’s voice boomed from the other side of the door. “It’s time!”

“Oh Goddess, oh Goddess—” she muttered, twisting the fabric of her skirt until it nearly tore.

“Wrenna,” A voice came from behind her, making her jump. She’d been so preoccupied by her own thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed the portal that had opened.

“Auntie, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she panted, a hand on her racing heart.

Seraphina chuckled, before taking out what seemed like a deodorant stick from her pocket—two of them actually.

“It took me a while since I had to ask Damian what he wanted too.”

Wrenna took them, opened one and stared at it. It was smaller than a deodorant, but looked just like it.

“Do we just….roll them on?” she asked, her eyes lifting to the witch’s.

“Yes. Think of it like a glamour. The ink remembers what you imagine as it’s applied, and that’s what others will see.”

Before Wrenna could reply, the door opened, and her father walked in. Her head snapped back, eyes wide, but Seraphina had already disappeared.

“Wrenna…I—I know this is not how you imagined this going—”

“You can say that again,” she snapped, slipping the deodorant in the pocket of her skirt.

Imagine.

She had…Ever since she was a child and had witnessed her father and Ronnie’s marking ceremony—she’d dreamed of her own one. Picking out her dress, choosing the flower decorations, the song she would walk to…her father guiding her to her mate…but she hadn’t imagined Damian. No, never Damain—and never with a pup growing in her belly.

“—But this is for the best,” he pressed on, ignoring the jab. “The Council has always been against you. When your brother was born, they pushed hard for him to become my heir. But I said no. You’re my firstborn. You’re my heir. And I won’t let them strip that from you over one mistake.”

The emotion in his voice caused her anger to dissipate.

“I know.” She nodded, surrender in her features.

“I love you, Wren. And I cannot wait to be a Pops. I was just hoping it be a little later but—” he chuckled.

Wrenna’s face cracked into a small smile. “I love you too. And my child will never call you Pops,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah…it sounded weird as I said it.”

The walk down the aisle wasn’t romantic, filled with warmth or wholesome. Wrenna felt the cold, harsh stares of the Council members with each step she took, while her father’s hand around hers tightened—trying to protect her from the vultures.

Her dress, that hung loosely around her, somehow felt suffocating. As she looked to the end of the aisle, she noticed Damian, looking sharp in his suit, but paler than she’d seen before.

This wasn’t a joyous occasion—no, it almost felt like a funeral. Hers.

“Marking Ceremony before 21? Unheard of!”

“Too young…”

“Her mother would be ashamed…”

The Council members muttered, just loud enough for her to hear—each word like a knife to her heart. But Wrenna jutted out her chin—and straightened her back, just like her father—and Veronica—had taught her.

Her eyes landed on Damian at the end of the aisle. He was wearing a sharp suit, his dark hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it—but his skin was paler than she’d remembered.

When her father handed her to him and took a seat, the Council representative stepped forward.

The Council representative stepped forward, his robes rustling like dry leaves. His face was carved from stone, lips pressed thin as he intoned, “Dearly beloved, we are here today to bless this union—though it comes earlier than wisdom would advise.” Bless. The word was acid in his mouth.

For some reason, Wrenna’s mind drifted to Brad. What was he doing now? Was he with Sien— No, stop it. It doesn’t matter. He’s not important. It was just her—and the pup in her belly.

Her hand subconsciously pressed to her stomach. Her pup.

“And now, for the marking,” the representative intoned, his voice clipped and cold.

Wrenna’s smile felt brittle. Her palms were damp. If anything went wrong—if anyone noticed—they’d be caught. Forced to mark for real. Forced to come clean.

Damian leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek. To everyone watching, it would look like an intimate moment. But to Wrenna, it was a cover.

She tilted her head, letting her hair slip forward like a curtain. Her fingers slipped into her pocket, closing around the cool little stick Seraphina had given her. For one heartbeat, she hesitated. The entire room seemed to hold its breath with her.

Then—swift, practiced—she dragged it across the curve of her neck, the faintest tingle sparking where it touched. Damian’s lips brushed her neck, and her hand tightened on his shoulder, a picture of a girl being claimed.

When he pulled back, she forced a sweet smile, leaning into him again. This time her fingers moved like a thief’s, slipping the stick across his neck before tucking it away. Her lips pressed to his throat, sealing the illusion.

The crowd politely clapped—but Wrenna knew it was all for show.

“We’d like to invite you to dine with us in the Alpha’s private dining room,” Damian said smoothly, his voice steady even as his fingers tightened around hers. He guided her off the dais, hand warm and firm, as if daring anyone to challenge their bond.

“Thank you,” she whispered and Damian nodded, his ever-supportive smile back in place.

Dinner was a blur of elegance, stiff conversations and practiced smiles—even though she could feel the Council’s glares on her.

When Wrenna yawned, Damian leaned into her. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” she smiled sleepily. He nodded to her, urging her to step into her Alpha role, like he knew she could.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council, I’d like to thank you for coming to our special day,” she said formally, “but my new mate and I would like to retire for the evening.”

A few of them nodded their heads in goodbye, but Wrenna didn’t wait for an answer as she stood. Damian quickly followed behind her, but as they stepped into the hallway, her father followed.

“You did well today, both of you. And that is one special mark you have,” Brax smiled as he took a closer look of the mark Damian had ‘left’ on her skin.

“Thank you, dad,” Wrenna said, hugging him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’ve already had the omegas move all of Damian’s things into your room.”

Wrenna froze. s**t. She hadn’t thought of that. They would have to live together from now on.

She forced a smile for her father’s sake, then let Damian steer her toward her rooms. The walk felt like a march all over again, her stomach tight with nerves.

When the door swung open, though, her heart stuttered.

“Surprise!”

Callie was sprawled on her bed, grinning ear to ear, while Killian lounged in her desk chair like he owned it.

“What—what are you two doing here?” Wrenna gasped.

“We dropped out,” Callie said proudly, tossing her hair. “Couldn’t let our Alpha face the Council’s vultures alone.”

Killian smirked. “Besides, the Council can call us the screw-up unit all they want. We’ll still be your screw-up unit.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest before she could stop it. The weight of the day didn’t feel so crushing with them here. For the first time since the ceremony, Wrenna let herself breathe.