Chapter 8

I made the only choice that made sense. The wedding moved with shocking speed. Ten days from waking and saying yes to standing before a mirror in a gown. Mother's fingers shook at my collar. No heavy northern robes—Kane had sent a lean, silver-white dress, shoulders edged with wolf fur, the skirt cut like a warrior's coat. “He understands you,” Mother murmured—pride and worry braided in her eyes. “He understands a posture,” I said to the mirror. “One that refuses the leash.” Father...