Elara didn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the sword piercing her chest. Felt the snap of the mate bond. Heard the echo of Kael Blackthorn's voice as he pronounced her guilty.
By dawn, her nerves were raw and her resolve hardened into steel.
She sat on the edge of her narrow bed, fingers clenched tightly in the sheets, forcing herself to breathe. The pale morning light crept through the cracked window, casting long shadows across the room she hadn't seen in over a decade.
This room was proof.
She truly had returned to the past.
Three days before the Mate Ceremony.
Three days before her fate was sealed.
In her previous life, she had been nervous but hopeful—believing that destiny had finally smiled on her. The Mate Ceremony was sacred, revered by every pack. A night when the Moon Goddess revealed true bonds.
Back then, when Kael's mark had appeared on her wrist, she had felt chosen.
Now?
She knew better.
The ceremony wasn't a blessing.
It was a chain.
"Elara."
She flinched as her aunt's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Aunt Lyris?" Elara cleared her throat, forcing calm into her voice. "Come in."
The door opened, and Lyris Nightwind stepped inside, her expression tired but gentle. Lines of worry etched her face—lines that would deepen rapidly after Elara became queen and the council turned their blades toward House Nightwind.
In her past life, Lyris would die quietly two years after Elara's execution. Poisoned. Forgotten.
Elara's chest tightened.
"You're awake early," Lyris said, glancing at the untouched breakfast tray. "Nervous?"
Elara smiled faintly.
"I had a strange dream," she replied carefully.
Lyris chuckled. "Everyone does before the ceremony. You'll be fine. You've trained your whole life for this."
Elara bit back a bitter laugh.
No one trained her to survive betrayal.
No one trained her to outlive her mate.
"I won't attend," Elara said suddenly.
Lyris froze.
"What?"
"I'm not going to the Mate Ceremony," Elara repeated, voice steady. "I'm withdrawing."
The color drained from Lyris's face.
"Elara, don't joke about such things. Refusing the ceremony is an insult to the Moon Goddess herself."
"And attending it is a death sentence," Elara thought.
Out loud, she said, "I don't want a mate chosen by fate."
Lyris rushed toward her, grabbing her hands. "Listen to me. Girls who reject the ceremony are marked. Shunned. No Alpha will claim you. The council—"
"I don't care about the council," Elara interrupted softly.
Lyris stared at her niece as if seeing her for the first time.
"Elara… what happened to you?"
Elara gently pulled her hands free.
"Please trust me," she said. "Just this once."
Lyris hesitated. Then she sighed heavily.
"I'll speak to the elders," she said at last. "But I can't promise anything."
After she left, Elara exhaled slowly.
That was step one.
Avoid the bond.
Avoid Kael.
Avoid death.
Simple.
Or so she thought.
The pain hit at noon.
Elara was helping grind herbs in the apothecary when her chest suddenly tightened. A sharp, unfamiliar ache spread through her ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs.
She staggered back, clutching her wrist.
A faint silver glow flickered beneath her skin.
Her blood ran cold.
"No… not yet…"
The mate bond was awakening early.
That had never happened before.
She dropped the pestle and fled the room, heart racing as she ran through the corridors toward the courtyard. Every instinct screamed danger.
Across the realm—
Kael Blackthorn slammed his fist into the stone wall.
The palace shook.
"What is this?" he growled, silver eyes blazing as he clutched his wrist. A burning mark pulsed beneath his skin, sending violent waves of pain through his body.
His beta, Rowan, stiffened. "Your Majesty?"
"The bond," Kael snarled. "It's reacting."
"That's impossible," Rowan said. "The ceremony is three days away."
Kael's jaw tightened.
Impossible things were happening too often.
Ever since last night.
Since he'd woken with her name on his lips and blood on his hands that wasn't there.
"Elara Nightwind," he whispered.
The name burned.
"Summon the council," Kael ordered coldly. "And send scouts to House Nightwind."
Rowan hesitated. "On what grounds?"
Kael's eyes darkened.
"On the grounds that my mate is trying to run."
Elara collapsed beneath the old oak tree in the courtyard, gasping for air as the pain finally eased. Sweat drenched her back, and her hands trembled violently.
She knew that feeling now.
The bond wasn't dormant anymore.
It was searching.
And if Kael felt it too—
Her stomach twisted.
"So you remember," she whispered bitterly. "Even before the ceremony."
She stared up at the sky, eyes burning with unshed tears.
In her last life, Kael had never once fought the bond. He had accepted it easily—too easily. He had trusted the council. Trusted the throne.
This time?
She would force him to choose.
She pushed herself to her feet.
If fate insisted on binding them together, then she would change the rules.
She would grow stronger.
Smarter.
Untouchable.
And when Kael Blackthorn finally stood before her again—
She would make sure he was the one kneeling.