(Daciana POV)
Otsana’s words hung over the garden like a curse, and for several breaths, nobody moved, spoke, or even seemed alive.
The moon would demand a choice before the next full moon, and if I refused, the bond, crown, and blood oath might choose for me.
I looked at Conri’s closed fist, where the regent’s token rested like a quiet promise waiting to become a chain.
Then I looked at Bardolph’s hand, where my baby bracelet and the old marriage contract carried the weight of a dead Alpha’s plan.
One man offered me a future I had not asked for, and another brought proof that my past had been stolen before I could speak.
The old mate mark on my shoulder still burned faintly, reminding me that even my body had become a battlefield for other people’s claims.
“I will not choose tonigh
