I take my seat near the back, folding my cuffed hands neatly on the desk, and exhale slowly.
At least Matron Elswyth isn’t here yet. She’s late, and for that I thank the Moon for small mercies. Without her droning voice reminding us that women exist to kneel and spread our legs in the name of tradition, my mind can actually breathe. Enduring her without my wolf would be pure torture.
I’m halfway lost in my thoughts when someone steps into my space.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” a cheerful voice chirps.
I look up.
Two girls stand in front of me.
The first looks excited—practically vibrating with it. The second looks like she’s swallowed poison and decided to blame me for the taste. No—worse. She looks like she wants to poison my tea instead.
“Your wedding is tomorrow,” the exci
