Chapter 1 Dinner for the princess

Sera's POV

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the dining room was that Elara was sitting beside Cairn instead of across from him, and the second thing I noticed was that his hand was resting on the back of her chair as though it belonged there.

Neither of them noticed me immediately.

They were too busy kissing.

I stopped just inside the doorway, one hand still resting lightly against the frame as I took in the scene that apparently mattered more than whether I had been invited to dinner at my own family's table. Elara's honey-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders while Cairn leaned toward her, his silver-gray eyes closed, his fingers curled loosely around the chair as though he had forgotten there were other people in the room.

My father was smiling and so was my mother.

Even the servants looked pleased.

It was almost impressive how quickly a room could become warm when everyone inside it was celebrating someone else.

I pulled the chair at the far end of the table back and sat down without saying anything. The scrape of the wood against the floor finally made Cairn open his eyes, and for half a second his gaze met mine.

Something changed in his expression.

It was small enough that nobody else seemed to notice, but I did.

Cairn knew exactly what I was to him. He had known for years and so had I.

Neither of us had ever said the words aloud, because knowing someone was your fated mate did not mean they were obligated to choose you, and I had decided a long time ago that I would rather walk away with my dignity than spend my life begging a man to see something he had already seen.

Cairn's eyes remained on mine for another heartbeat before Elara touched his arm and drew his attention back to her.

I looked away first, not because it hurt. At least, that was what I told myself.

My mother appeared from the kitchen carrying another serving dish, and the smell reached me before she placed it on the table. Roast chicken glazed with honey and herbs, creamy garlic potatoes, roasted vegetables and the sweet cinnamon dessert Elara had always loved sat in front of her like some carefully arranged tribute.

I looked at the food, then at Elara, of course tonight was one of those nights.

"Elara's favorite," my mother announced happily as she settled into her chair. "I thought we should make dinner special for her."

Elara smiled modestly, although the pleased little sparkle in her eyes told me she was enjoying every second of it. "Mom, you didn't have to do all this."

"Oh, sweetheart, of course I did. You've had such a wonderful week."

My father lifted his glass, his attention fixed entirely on Elara. "Your presentation was exceptional. The council noticed, and that's what matters."

Elara lowered her gaze with an expression of practiced humility. "I only did my best."

I nearly smiled. That sentence had always worked beautifully for her.

Cairn reached over and squeezed her hand beneath the table.

I watched the gesture without reacting.

My mother picked up the serving spoon and began placing food onto Elara's plate first. She gave her daughter generous portions of everything, adding an extra spoonful of potatoes because, apparently, Elara had been particularly fond of them lately.

When she finally looked toward me, her expression changed. "Sera, you can eat once everyone else has finished."

I stared at her for a moment.

My mother seemed almost embarrassed by the words, but not embarrassed enough to take them back.

Elara shifted slightly in her chair and Cairn's hand went still.

My father continued eating as though this were perfectly normal.

I reached for my glass of water and took a slow sip before setting it down. "Of course," I said calmly. "I've been doing that since I was ten."

My mother's fingers tightened around the serving spoon and nobody spoke.

I looked around the table, not angry, not crying, not even particularly surprised.

"Although," I continued, "I suppose I should be grateful that I'm allowed to sit at the table now. When you found me, I was half-dead, so perhaps this is progress."

The silence became heavier. Elara's smile disappeared, my mother looked down at her plate.

My father finally raised his eyes. "Sera."

There was warning in his voice. I met his gaze. "What?"

"You don't need to bring that up at dinner."

I tilted my head slightly.

"I didn't bring it up. Mom told me I had to wait to eat because Elara gets nervous around me. I was only explaining why that doesn't particularly surprise me."

Elara's cheeks flushed. "I never said I wanted you to starve."

"No," I agreed, reaching for my water again. "You don't usually have to say things like that. Other people seem quite happy to say them for you."

Her eyes narrowed for the briefest moment before the sweetness returned. "I just get uncomfortable sometimes."

"I know."

"You look at me like you hate me."

I almost laughed, but instead, I rested my forearms against the table and looked at her properly. "I don't hate you, Elara."

Her eyebrows lifted. "You don't?"

"No. I barely know you."

That landed harder than I expected.

My father frowned, but I kept my voice even.

"You were already here when I came home. You had my parents, my room, my family, my place at this table, and everyone had spent five years learning how to love you while I had spent five years learning how to survive." I paused, choosing my next words carefully because I had no intention of turning dinner into a screaming match. "I don't hate you for that. I simply don't pretend it didn't happen."

My mother swallowed. "Sera, we were told you were dead."

"I know."

"We thought we had lost you."

"I know that too." My voice softened, although the ache beneath it never did.

"I was ten when I came home, Mom. I knew what happened to me. I knew what I had lost. I knew my brother wasn't there. I knew I had scars on my body that hadn't been there before. I knew I was terrified of people touching me, and I knew I woke up screaming almost every night."

I glanced toward the food again.

"And somehow, I was still expected to understand that everyone else had moved on."

Cairn was watching me now, not Elara, but me. His expression had lost its earlier amusement, replaced by something I couldn't quite name.

Guilt, perhaps or discomfort, but I didn't care enough to figure it out.

My father leaned back in his chair. "We did what we could."

"I know."

"You weren't an easy child."

I smiled faintly. "There it is."

My mother looked at him, but he continued.

"You fought everyone. You refused to follow instructions. You argued about everything."

"I still do." The corner of my mouth lifted.

For the first time that evening, my father looked almost irritated.

I picked up my fork and turned it between my fingers.

"I was ten," I said quietly. "I had survived something none of you understood, and I refused to sit quietly while everyone treated me like I was the problem. If that made me difficult, then I suppose I was difficult."

Elara shifted beside Cairn. "You always make everything about yourself."

I looked at her. "No. I make sure nobody else gets to tell my story for me."

That shut her up.

I could feel Cairn's gaze on me again, and when I finally looked at him, our eyes met across the table.

For one strange moment, the noise around us seemed to disappear.

His wolf was there beneath his skin.

I could feel the faint pull of the bond I had spent years refusing to acknowledge aloud, the quiet awareness that told me exactly who he was to me and what he had chosen not to do about it.

Cairn looked away first.

I leaned back in my chair. My appetite had disappeared, but my pride hadn't, and hat was something my family had never managed to take from me.

My mother resumed eating, clearly hoping the moment would pass, while my father began talking to Elara about her presentation again. Cairn joined the conversation, and within minutes the table was alive with laughter once more.

I listened for a while then I pushed my chair back.

My father looked at me. "Where are you going?"

"To eat."

His eyebrows drew together. "You haven't been served."

"I noticed." I stood, smoothing the front of my dress. "I'll find something somewhere else."

My mother opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came.

I looked at Elara one last time.

She was sitting beneath the warm chandelier light, surrounded by everything she had always been given so easily.

Then I looked at Cairn. He was still watching me. I gave him a small, polite smile. Not bitter and not broken just enough to remind him that I knew exactly what he had been doing.

Then I walked out of the dining room with my head held high, leaving the princess to her dinner and the people who had chosen her long before I ever came home.

What they didn't know was that I had somewhere else to be.

The track was waiting, and unlike my family, it had never asked me to make myself smaller just to make someone else comfortable.