The soft glow of sunset filtered through the tall, arched windows of Nyma Ravengale's bedchamber, casting a golden hue over the room. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and rosewater, a calming blend that did little to ease the storm brewing in Nyma's chest.
She sat stiffly on the edge of her vanity stool, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, as her sister-in-law, Raina, and her maternal aunt, Amelia, flitted around her like hummingbirds, adjusting the intricate details of her ceremonial gown.
Raina adjusted the silver circlet resting atop Nyma's dark curls, her voice softening. "Is something troubling you, Nyma? You've been quiet all afternoon."
Nyma hesitated, her heart pounding. She knew she shouldn't ask. She knew it was foolish, reckless even. But the question had been burning in her chest for days, and she couldn't hold it in any longer.
She took a deep breath and spoke before she could lose her nerve. "Have you met or seen Jae?"
The room went still. Raina's hands froze mid-air, and Aunt Amelia's lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Raina finally broke it.
"I haven't," she said carefully, her voice low. "But I've heard from Kael that Father invited Jaerin to your ceremony."
Nyma's breath hitched. Jaerin. Here. Tonight. Her heart raced, a dangerous mix of hope and dread swirling in her chest.
Aunt Amelia's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Nyma, you are mated to Prince Adrian and I suggest you focus on him alone."
Nyma's stomach churned at the mention of Adrian's name. Lycan Prince Adrain Ryvorn was kind, handsome, and everything a young woman could want in a mate—but he wasn't Jaerin Valdyrn.
She forced a smile, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the vanity.
Raina, ever the perfectionist, smoothed the delicate silver embroidery along the hem of Nyma's dress, her fingers quick and precise. "You look stunning, Nyma," she said with a warm smile, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern. "Prince Adrian won't be able to take his eyes off you."
Amelia, standing behind Nyma, carefully braided strands of her niece's dark, silken hair, weaving in tiny crystals that caught the light like stars. "The Lycan Prince is a lucky man," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "You'll make a fine Luna, dear. Just remember to hold your head high and keep your people first."
Nyma's reflection in the mirror stared back at her, wide-eyed and pale. She barely recognized herself. The gown, the jewels, the elaborate hairstyle—it all felt like a costume, a role she wasn't ready to step into. Her heart thudded erratically, and her breaths came in shallow bursts. She felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, beautiful but suffocating.
The door creaked open, and Nyma's mother, Lady Elara Ravengale, stepped inside, her presence commanding yet gentle. In her hands, she carried a velvet-lined box, its surface worn with age. The room fell silent as she approached her only daughter, her eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
"My baby has all grown up," Elara said softly, placing the box on the vanity as she bent to kiss Nyma's forehead. There were tears in Elara's eyes which she hid in time.
Then she opened the box to reveal the ancient family jewelry—a necklace of moonstones and silver, earrings that shimmered like dewdrops, and a delicate tiara adorned with tiny wolves howling at the moon. "These have been passed down through generations of Ravengale women. Today, they are yours."
Nyma's throat tightened as her mother fastened the necklace around her neck. The cool metal against her skin did little to soothe the heat of her anxiety. "Mother," she whispered, her voice trembling, "I don't know if I can do this. I don't even know him. What if… what if he's not what I hoped for? What if I'm not what he hoped for?"
"What rubbish!" Aunt Amelia responded, "You both are fated to each other, and all that's what matters. The bond of fate is stronger than anything in the world."
Elara cupped her daughter's face, her touch grounding. "Oh, my darling," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I know this is overwhelming. But the Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes. Prince Adrian is your mate, and he chose you. That means something."
Before Nyma could respond, the door swung open again, and her elder brother, Kael, strode in, followed by their father, Lord Cedric Ravengale. Kael's broad shoulders filled the doorway, his expression stern but softened by the affection he held for his little sister. Cedric, tall and imposing, carried himself with the air of a man who had always put duty above all else.
Kael was the first one to step near, his lips curling into an amused grin. "You look…" He paused dramatically, rubbing his chin. "Surprisingly presentable. Who knew you could clean up this well?"
Nyma shot him a side glare. Aunt Amelia sighed. "Honestly, Kael, stop teasing her."
Lord Cedric cleared his throat as he stepped forward, his gaze piercing yet proud. "The Ravengale name may not carry the weight of the Alpha families, but today, you'll stand among them as their equal. Remember who you are, Nyma. Remember your bloodline."
Nyma's chest tightened under the weight of their expectations. She wanted to scream, to tell them she wasn't ready, that she was just a girl who had dreamed of love, not a political alliance. But the words stuck in her throat, choked by the fear of disappointing them.
Raina, sensing her distress, placed a reassuring hand on Nyma's shoulder. "It's okay to be nervous," she said gently. "But don't let fear steal this moment from you. You're not alone. We're all here for you."
Nyma looked around the room, at the faces of the people who loved her, and felt a flicker of courage ignite within her. She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the moonstone necklace. "I'll try," she whispered, her voice barely audible. For all of us, I'll try.