Chapter 8

Sera's POV

Tristan lunged forward, but I stepped back before his hand could reach the flames.

"Are you insane?" he said. "That shirt took you weeks to make."

"I know exactly how long it took me," I said. "I did it, remember?"

He stared at the fire like he could still pull it back somehow, like the fabric hadn't already started burning.

"Sera, stop this."

I bent down and picked up the next piece, a wool jacket I had made for him during our fourth winter together, back when the pack still couldn't afford proper coats for anyone.

I had taught myself the pattern from a book I borrowed from the library three packs over.

I threw it into the fire.

Renee stood a few feet away, along with two other household staff silently watching. I didn't look at any of them. I kept my eyes on the flames.

"You're being dramatic," Tristan said. "This is about Willow, isn't it? You're punishing me because you're jealous."

"This has nothing to do with Willow."

"Then what is it about?"

I picked up the next item, a scarf, dark green, the color he used to say reminded him of the forest behind his childhood home.

"I made these when I believed you valued what I sacrificed for you," I said. "Every stitch, every hour I spent hunched over a needle instead of sleeping, I made because I thought I mattered to you. I thought it meant something."

"It did mean something."

"Then explain the gifts," I said. "Explain the pendant. Explain choosing Willow's panic attack over your lost child." I threw the scarf into the fire. "Every piece I burn tonight is a reminder of a marriage that apparently meant something very different to you than it did to me."

"I still love you," Tristan said. "Sera, nothing about tonight changes that."

"Love without loyalty means nothing to me," I said. "You can love someone and still betray them completely. I know that now. I didn't understand it until tonight, but I understand it perfectly now."

He reached for the next item in the pile, a jacket I hadn't burned yet, and I pulled it out of his grasp before his fingers could close around it.

"Don't touch me," I said.

"Sera..."

"Don't," I yelled. Something in my voice made him step back.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked. "Tell me what you want from me, and I'll do it."

"I expect nothing from you anymore," I said. "That's the difference between tonight and every night before it. I used to expect things. I​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ expected apologies to mean something. I expected effort to mean something. I expected that if I loved you enough, eventually you would see me the way I saw you." I threw the jacket into the fire. "I don't expect that anymore."

Tristan stood there, and for the first time all night, he looked like he didn't know what to say.

That was when Willow appeared at the edge of the courtyard, drawn by the noise, her robe pulled tight around her. Mira was trailing a few steps behind.

"What's going on," she said, though her eyes went straight to the fire, straight to the pile of clothing still waiting to be burned.

"Nothing that concerns you," I said.

"Tristan," Willow said softly, ignoring me entirely. "Are you alright? You look upset."

"I'm fine," Tristan said, though he clearly wasn't.

"This must be so hard for you," Willow said, moving closer to him, her hand finding his arm. "Watching her do this. I know how much those meant to you."

I almost laughed.

"Don't act concerned for him," I said. "You've done enough acting for one night."

Willow's eyes flicked to me, wounded, perfectly wounded. "I'm not acting, Sera. I just don't understand why you're punishing him for something that isn't his fault."

"Everything about tonight is his fault," I said. "Every single piece of it."

Tristan's jaw tightened, but he didn't defend me. He turned toward Willow instead, his hand covering hers where it rested on his arm, and I watched him do it without even seeming to notice he was doing it.

That told me everything I needed to know.

"You can have him," I said, picking up the last item from the pile, a shirt from our very first year together, the one I'd made before I even knew how to sew properly. "From now on, he's entirely yours. I don't want his apologies. I don't want his gifts nor do I want his affection."

"Sera," Tristan said. "Your wolf. I can't feel her reaching for me anymore."

I hadn't noticed it happening, not consciously, but he was right. Something inside me that used to strain toward him when I was furious with him, had simply gone still.

I said nothing.

I threw the last shirt into the fire and watched it curl and blacken along with everything else.

Tristan stood there a long moment, staring at the flames, staring at me, and then he turned and walked away without another word.

Willow trailed after him with one last smirk at me back over her shoulder.

Fuck the both of them.

I thought the night was finally over. Then one of the guards came rushing into the courtyard, breathless, his eyes wide.

"Luna," he said. "An envoy from Alpha Selene has arrived. In the middle of the night, with guards in her colors. They brought something for you. Not for the Alpha. For you alone."​​​​