Chapter 1
"Give it a little more."
Alpha Rowan pressed a silver graver into my palm.
"Vivian says the Crown sits a bit loose on her."
My hands stilled.
The graver was cold against my skin.
But the Moon Crown in my hand—the one I'd held just last night, putting the final polish on it—still carried a faint warmth from my touch.
I looked up.
"What do you mean?"
Rowan tipped his chin toward the temple.
"Go see for yourself."
I blinked, confused for just a breath. Then I picked up my kit and walked in.
Tomorrow was the wedding.
By pack tradition, the day before the ceremony, the future Luna had to personally inspect the Moon Crown. Make sure there were no flaws. No imperfections.
It was the last rite.
And the one thing my mother had made me promise, over and over, as she lay dying.
The Crown isn't glory, she'd said.
It's duty.
So for the past hundred and eight days, I'd barely left the temple.
Every silver filigree—I carved it with my own hands.
Every moonstone—I'd taken it to the sacred spring under the full moon and cleansed it myself.
Last night, I'd even burned my fingers on the moon-silver while sanding down the final groove.
Rowan had held my hand, pressed a kiss to my fingertips, his eyes soft with concern.
"Tomorrow," he'd said, "I'll put it on you myself."
I believed him.
I'd always believed him.
The temple doors swung open.
Moonlight flooded the great hall.
The flowers were arranged just as I'd left them. The red carpet stretched all the way to the altar. I even spotted the bundle of white moon-roses in the corner—I'd placed them there myself, just yesterday.
Everything was exactly as I'd left it.
Except—
The person standing at the center of the altar.
Vivian.
She wore a long white gown, and she stood before the sacred mirror, tilting her head this way and that, admiring herself.
And my Moon Crown.
Was on her head.
She lifted a hand, touched the Crown ever so carefully, and smiled.
"Rowan," she asked, "how do I look?"
Rowan walked over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
His gaze was tender.
"Beautiful."
"It's just a little off in size."
Vivian's brow creased slightly.
"Maybe my sister's head is just bigger," she said lightly, with a little laugh. "It keeps slipping."
And then.
She finally saw me in the mirror.
"Elena!"
Her eyes lit up, as if she'd just spotted her savior.
"Good, you're here."
She reached up to steady the Crown on her head.
"Could you adjust it for me? I'm worried it'll get uncomfortable wearing it all day tomorrow."
The air went still.
I couldn't take my eyes off that Crown.
The Luna's Crown.
Under wolf law, no one—no one—was permitted to wear it before the future Luna. Not even for a moment.
Every wolf learned that rule as a pup.
Vivian knew it.
Rowan knew it better than anyone.
And yet they stood there like nothing was wrong.
I finally lifted my gaze to Rowan.
My voice came out quiet.
"Why is she wearing my Crown?"
Rowan's expression didn't flicker. As if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"She's just trying it on," he said. "It doesn't fit right. It needs adjusting."
I said nothing. Just looked at him.
Rowan went on.
"You know the Moon Crown better than anyone here."
"Fix it for her."
He reached out a hand toward me.
His face was calm. His tone easy. Like he was asking me to do something perfectly natural.
"Elena."
"Adjust the Crown so it fits Vivian."
Suddenly, the world went silent.
The flowers. The moonlight. The altar.
All of it blurred at the edges.
All I could see was that Crown.
And the smiling face beneath it.
Slowly, my fingers curled tighter around the graver. The blade pressed a deep red line into my palm.
I couldn't feel it.
Because the pain wasn't in my hand.
It was in my chest.
I had poured a hundred and eight days into that Crown.
And the first person to wear it—
Wasn't me.