The Enstranged Alpha's Mate

Chapter Eight:The Ceremony

The morning of the ceremony, Rowan stood in front of the mirror in the guest lodge and did not recognize the woman looking back at her.

Not because of the dress — dark green, simple, more armor than gown, chosen deliberately over anything that looked like the white ceremonial furs Voss tradition apparently favored, because Rowan had made it clear during the planning that she would participate in this ceremony as an Alpha standing beside an equal, not as a bride being handed over to complete someone else's story. Kane had agreed without argument, which had surprised her more than she wanted to admit.

No — what she didn't recognize was the steadiness in her own eyes. Ten years ago, the last time she'd stood in front of a mirror before facing a crowd of Voss wolves, she'd been shaking so badly Brie had to help her stand still long enough to braid her hair. Today her hands were steady. Whatever this ceremony meant, whatever it cost her, she was walking into it as someone who had already survived the worst version of this exact moment and built an entire life on the other side of it.

"You look terrifying," Brie said from the doorway, in the tone she reserved for her highest compliments. "In the best possible way."

"Good." Rowan turned from the mirror. "That's exactly the impression I'm going for."

Brie crossed the room and adjusted the collar of Rowan's dress with small, careful movements, the same fussing she'd done before every hard thing Rowan had ever faced — the first winter after they'd founded Ashwood, the first pack challenge Rowan had to put down herself, the first time either of them had buried someone they loved. It wasn't about the collar. It never had been. It was Brie's way of saying I'm here without having to say it plainly, and Rowan let herself lean into the familiarity of it for exactly as long as she could afford to.

"Last chance to back out," Brie said, not quite joking. "I've got the truck running. We could be over the border in twenty minutes."

"You'd never actually let me run."

"No," Brie agreed. "But I'd always offer, so you know the door's there if you need it." She met Rowan's eyes in the mirror. "You don't need it, though. I can see it on you. You're not the girl who ran the first time. You're the one who came back to make sure nobody else has to."

Rowan swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat and nodded, once, sharp, because if she said anything else out loud right now she wasn't sure it wouldn't come out as something closer to tears than words. Brie squeezed her shoulder and stepped back, giving her the moment of composure she needed.

"For what it's worth," Brie added, quieter now, "whatever happens out there today — with the ceremony, with him — you already won, a long time ago. Everything after this is just you deciding how much of the win you want to share."

Rowan held onto that thought like a handhold on a rock face. She reached for her boots, and stopped, because Brie had gone very still in the doorway, watching her with an expression that wasn't quite worry and wasn't quite pride.

"What?" Rowan said.

"Nothing. I just keep thinking about the girl I found half-frozen behind the mine, eleven months after all this happened the first time." Brie's voice was rough. "You wouldn't say his name for two years. Do you know that? Two years, and I only ever heard you call him 'the Alpha,' like saying Kane out loud might undo whatever you'd rebuilt."

"I remember."

"I'm not bringing it up to hurt you. I'm bringing it up because I want you to notice it. You said his name four times yesterday without flinching." Brie shook her head, almost laughing. "I don't know what to do with that information. I've spent ten years learning how to hate him efficiently on your behalf. I might be out of a job."

"You'll find other things to hate efficiently."

"I certainly hope so. It's half my personality." Brie helped her into her jacket, smoothing the shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"No," Rowan admitted. "But I wasn't ready the first time either, and I got through it. I'll get through this one too, on my own terms instead of his."

"That's the whole difference, isn't it."

"That's the whole difference."

There was a knock at the door before either of them could say more. It was one of the kitchen girls, breathless, holding a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

"From Alpha Voss's father," she said, and fled before Rowan could ask which one.

Rowan unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a sprig of rowan berries, tied with a strip of green ribbon that matched her dress exactly, and a short note in a cramped, formal hand.

I looked up the meaning of your name last night. Protection. Rebirth. Keeping bad luck at the door. I thought you should carry some of it today, since you've spent ten years being all three for people who had nowhere else to go.

— G.V.

Rowan stared at it for a long moment. Brie read it over her shoulder and let out a low whistle.

"Well," Brie said. "That's new."

"That's new," Rowan agreed, and found, to her own surprise, that her eyes had gone hot. She pinned the sprig to her collar, over the place where the bond mark waited, and told herself it didn't mean anything beyond what it was. A kindness. Nothing more.

Outside, the compound was already stirring — voices carrying up from the yard, the particular hum of two packs preparing for something they didn't yet know how to name together. Rowan could hear hammering, someone testing a length of bunting, a child laughing somewhere near the kitchens. It didn't sound like Voss anymore, not quite. It sounded like something in between, unfinished, cautiously hopeful.

She walked out of the guest lodge and into the cold, bright morning air, the ceremony ground waiting for her at the bottom of the hill, and beyond it, the man who'd once made her fall and was about to find out exactly how far she'd climbed since.

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