The Woman Wearing My Face

The woman beside my mate had my face. 

My exact face. 

My mouth, painted with the berry stain I hated. My cheekbones. My winter-pale skin. The small scar above my left brow from the training wall, the one Kael used to kiss when he thought no one was watching. 

Not similar. 

Not a cousin's unlucky resemblance. 

Mine. 

She wore my pearl combs. 

She wore my silver Luna gown. 

And when Alpha Kael Thorne bent his head and kissed her hand, the entire Moonridge Pack cheered for her. 

For me. 

For the woman pretending to be me. 

I stood at the back of the hall with rain dripping from my cloak and blood drying under the bandage at my ribs. Mud covered my boots. My hair stuck to my neck. Three nights ago, someone had dragged me from my bed and cut me open beneath the moon. 

Now my pack was celebrating because the cut had not killed me fast enough. 

Because if the woman on the dais finished the rite, she would not only steal my wedding. 

She would steal the part of the pack that remembered I had ever existed. 

The High Priest lifted the moon blade. "Liora Venn, chosen mate of Alpha Kael Thorne, do you accept the Luna bond before blood, moon, and pack?" 

The woman on the dais smiled. 

She had practiced that too. 

I knew because it was the smile I used when my ribs hurt from corsets and elders told me pain made a Luna graceful. 

"I accept," she said. 

My voice. 

Soft. 

Perfect. 

Wrong. 

My wolf slammed against my skin. 

Mate. Wrong. Move. 

I pushed away from the doors. 

A guard saw me. "Stop her." 

Too late. 

I was already halfway down the aisle. 

Every head turned. Gasps ran through the hall as rainwater fell from my cloak onto the white moonstone floor. I saw people I had known since childhood. Women who had braided my hair. Men who had bowed to me yesterday. Servants who had carried my breakfast and whispered about my wedding gown. 

None of them said my name. 

Kael looked at me. 

For half a second, I forgot the blood and the mud and the woman wearing my skin. I saw my mate. The boy who had carved my initials into a training post. The Alpha who promised no one would ever make me kneel again. 

Then his mouth curled. 

Not in shock. 

In disgust. 

"Remove her," he said. 

The words hit harder than the blade under my ribs. 

"Kael." My voice broke. I hated that it broke. "Look at me." 

The false Liora stiffened. 

Good. 

Let her be afraid. 

Two guards grabbed my arms. Pain flashed white through my side, but I kept my eyes on Kael. 

"That's not me." 

The hall went silent. 

The woman on the dais stepped down. 

She moved exactly like I did because someone had taught her where to place her hands, how to lower her lashes, how to make every man in the room think softness meant innocence. 

She stopped in front of me. 

Close enough for me to smell jasmine oil. 

Mine. 

"Oh," she whispered. "Poor thing." 

My own voice made the insult gentle. 

People murmured. 

Kael came down one step. "Who sent you?" 

I stared at him. "You know me." 

"I know my mate." His eyes moved over my torn cloak, my dirty hair, the bruise at my throat. "You are not her." 

My knees almost gave. 

The guards forced them down instead. 

Stone struck bone. 

The whole pack watched me kneel before a woman wearing my crown. 

The false Liora crouched in front of me. Her gown did not touch the mud. Naturally, it did not. My gown had always been trained better than I had. 

"If you are hungry, we will feed you," she said. "If you are sick, we will heal you. But you cannot steal what the Goddess gave me." 

Then she reached out and touched my cheek. 

With my hand. 

Something inside me snapped. 

I lunged. 

The guards slammed me down before my teeth reached her fingers. 

The hall erupted. 

Kael roared, "Liora!" 

For one stupid heartbeat, I thought he meant me. 

He did not. 

He pulled her behind him. His arm went around her waist. His body turned to shield her from me. 

From me. 

The High Priest raised the blade again, pale and sweating. "The rite must continue before the hostile delegation uses this disorder." 

Only then did I see the wolves in black along the eastern wall. 

Ironwood. 

Enemy wolves. 

No banners. No silver. No pretty Moonridge lies. Just dark leather, quiet weapons, and a man in the center watching me as if everyone else in the hall had gone blurry. 

Alpha Dacre Vale. 

Border butcher. 

Enemy Alpha. 

The man mothers used to scare disobedient sons. 

He was not looking at the woman on the dais. 

He was looking at me. 

No. 

He was breathing me in. 

The priest's voice shook. "Alpha Kael Thorne, do you claim Liora Venn as Luna in body, bond, and name?" 

I tried to scream. 

A guard clamped a hand over my mouth. 

Kael lifted the false Liora's hand. 

Dacre moved. 

The room made space for him before anyone admitted they were afraid. 

"Stop the rite," he said. 

Kael turned. "This is not your ceremony." 

"No," Dacre said. "But she is my evidence." 

The false Liora gripped Kael's sleeve. 

Dacre crouched in front of me. Up close, he smelled like snow, smoke, and steel. His eyes were dark green and not kind. 

That should have scared me more than it did. 

Kindness had watched me kneel. 

Danger was the first thing in the room that looked at me properly. 

He reached toward my face. 

I flinched. 

He stopped before touching me. 

Then he looked up at Kael. 

"Everyone sees her face on your dais," Dacre said. "I smell your mate in the dirt." 

The silence changed. 

Kael went white. 

The false Liora whispered, "He's lying." 

Dacre smiled. 

It was not comforting. 

"Probably," he said. "I do that well." 

He offered me his hand. 

Not grabbed. 

Offered. 

I took it because my own pack had just put me on my knees. 

Dacre helped me stand. 

Kael stepped forward. "Take your hands off her." 

For one wild second, I thought he meant me. 

Then his eyes went to the woman behind him. 

Dacre noticed. 

So did I. 

Whatever soft thing had survived inside me went cold. 

Dacre leaned close, his voice low enough for only me. 

"If you want your name back," he said, "walk out with the enemy." 

Behind him, Kael growled. "She is under arrest." 

Dacre's hand tightened around mine, not enough to hurt. 

"No," he said, eyes still on me. "She is under witness." 

I did not understand the law. 

I understood the hand he had offered instead of taking. 

The false Liora gasped. 

Blood slid from the stolen Luna mark beneath her throat. 

This time, everyone saw.