Two days later, the Summit’s closing feast turned into a battlefield.
Socially, at least.
“Deep breaths,” Brenna murmured, straightening the collar of my borrowed dress. “If you faint in front of eight alphas, I’m never letting you live it down.”
“I’m not going to faint,” I whispered, even as my stomach churned. “I might set something on fire, though.”
“Please don’t,” she said. “I worked hard on these centerpieces.”
She stepped back so I could see myself in the tall mirror propped against the wall of my room.
I almost didn’t recognize the girl staring back.
The dress was simple, long-sleeved and dark green, cinched at the waist with a thin leather belt. It hugged my shoulders and skimmed my hips without being tight, the skirt falling to my boots. My hair was twisted back from my face in a loose braid, a few strands left intentionally free.
A small silver pendant—Tiernan’s, loaned for the night—rested at the hollow of my throat. A stylized lightning bolt etched into a stormcloud.
My eyes seemed…brighter.
Not glowing.
Just…more.
Ashra preened. *We clean up well.*
Brenna grinned. “You look like you’re about to tell someone off very politely,” she said. “I approve.”
“I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin,” I muttered.
“That’s called ‘real clothes,’” she said. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Why do I even have to go?” I grumbled. “They know who I am now. The mysterious element of surprise is gone. Can’t I hide in the infirmary?”
“Because,” Brenna said patiently, “you are the talk of this Summit whether you like it or not. Better they see you as a person than a rumor. Also, Elyra said if you skipped, she’d make you sit through a five-hour etiquette lesson tomorrow.”
“That’s blackmail,” I said.
“That’s Luna praxis,” Brenna replied.
A knock sounded.
“Come in,” I called.
Tiernan stepped in, dressed in dark formal leathers marked subtly with Stormwake insignia—silver stitching along the cuffs, a stylized mountain on the breast. His hair was tied back neatly; his jaw was freshly shaved.
He stopped dead when he saw me.
His eyes swept from my boots up to my braid, lingering for a heartbeat at the pendant resting against my skin.
Heat flared in his gaze.
My cheeks warmed.
“You look…” He cleared his throat. “You look like a storm on the edge of breaking.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“For me?” he said. “It’s…very good.”
Ashra sighed happily. *We like him in leather.*
“Stop commenting on his outfits,” I hissed internally.
“See?” Brenna said aloud, clapping her hands. “You clean up well too. Now you can be pretty and glower at alphas simultaneously.”
Tiernan’s mouth quirked. “That’s the plan.”
He offered me his arm.
I stared at it.
“I can walk,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “This is…tradition. Also, if we walk in together, it sends a clear message to any idiot who still thinks you’re fair game for taunts or tests.”
“Subtle territorial posturing,” Brenna translated. “Very alpha.”
I made a face.
Then slid my hand through the crook of his elbow.
His muscles were warm under the leather.
The bond hummed.
Brenna sniffled theatrically. “My little omega has grown up,” she said. “Walking in on the arm of a storm.”
“I swear by every god I don’t believe in,” I said, “if you cry, I’m pushing you down the stairs.”
She grinned, unbothered. “Worth it.”
We stepped into the corridor.
Wolves glanced up as we passed—warriors, omegas, visiting pack members.
Some stared.
Some quickly looked away.
Some nodded, respectful.
I kept my chin up, back straight, Brenna’s “don’t shrink” echoing in my ears.
Tiernan’s presence beside me was steady.
We reached the top of the main staircase overlooking the hall.
It glittered below— candles in iron sconces, polished wood, tables laden with food. Wolves in their best leathers and dresses, laughing, talking, sizing each other up.
Elyra stood near the head table, silver hair braided and threaded with tiny moonstones. Rhys loomed at her side, dark and imposing, his fine black jacket straining slightly over his broad shoulders.
As we descended, conversations dipped, then resumed at a slightly higher pitch.
I heard my name hissed in whispers.
“…that’s her…”
“…the elemental…”
“…the alpha’s mate…”
“…omega, I heard…”
The last made my spine stiffen.
Tiernan’s arm tensed under my hand.
He didn’t pull me closer.
He didn’t bare his teeth.
He just let the storm in him swell, aura flaring just enough that the nearest wolves straightened unconsciously, shoulders back, eyes sharp.
It made me feel…taller.
Not because I leaned on him.
Because he so clearly expected me to stand with him.
Elyra’s gaze met mine as we approached the head table.
There was something like pride there.
And apology.
And a flicker of calculation.
“Kaia,” she said warmly. “Tiernan. Thank you for joining us.”
“Like we had a choice,” I murmured, too low for her to hear.
Ashra snickered.
Rhys’s eyes skimmed over me, cool and assessing.
“You clean up well,” he said, the words almost sounding like a compliment until you noticed the faint condescension beneath.
“Thank you,” I said evenly. “So do you. I barely recognized you without blood on your boots.”
Tiernan choked on a laugh.
Brenna, hovering just out of official earshot, nearly dropped her tray.
Rhys’s jaw clenched.
Elyra’s lips twitched.
“Sharp tongue,” Rian murmured, taking a seat near the end of the head table. “Stormwake approves.”
We weren’t seated *at* the head table.
Not quite.
Elyra had arranged a slightly lower table directly to the left of theirs for “distinguished guests and special representatives.”
Tiernan’s place was there, as Stormwake’s alpha.
Rian’s, as his Beta.
Mine…beside Tiernan’s.
Brenna and Eren had spots a little further down, near Kellan and a few warriors from allied packs.
I slid into my seat, back to the wall, facing the room.
I’d spent years at the very back of this hall, standing behind omega-servants, practically in the shadows.
From here, I could see *everything*.
The alphas at the main table.
The ranked wolves at the second tier.
The warriors and higher omegas at the long, lower tables stretching toward the doors.
My stomach fluttered.
Tiernan’s knee brushed mine under the table.
I glanced at him.
He gave me a small, sharp nod.
“You’re not a ghost tonight,” he murmured. “You’re not invisible. They see you. Make sure they see you how *you* want, not how their whispers paint you.”
“I don’t even know who I want to be,” I admitted.
“Start with honest,” he said. “It’s already terrifying enough to most alphas.”
He wasn’t wrong.
The feast began with a toast.
Elyra lifted her goblet.
“Thank you,” she said, voice carrying effortlessly, “for coming to Redwood Shadow. For your counsel and your patience as we navigated both expected and…unexpected challenges.”
Polite murmurs. A few chuckles.
“We have old wounds in these lands,” she went on. “Old stories. Old magic. Some of it has not been honored as it should. Some of it has been feared when it should have been respected.”
Her gaze flicked to me.
My throat tightened.
“And some of it,” she said, “has returned when we least expected it, in forms we did not deserve, but deeply need.”
Whispers rippled.
She raised her goblet higher.
“To our guests from Stormwake,” she said. “To the alphas who came under truce. To the warriors who stood in our halls when fire rose. And to those who walked into that fire to keep our pups from burning.”
Her eyes met mine again.
“To Kaia Thorn,” she said clearly. “Daughter of Mira and Darin. Stormbound. Pack.”
The hall stilled.
Shock.
Some scattered applause.
A few scowls.
My chest constricted.
I forced myself to stand.
Tiernan rose beside me without hesitation.
So did Rian.
Kellan a heartbeat later.
Then, slowly, Eren.
Brenna.
Nana Lysa from her spot near the kitchen doors.
One by one, wolves around the hall pushed to their feet.
Not all.
But enough.
“To Kaia,” Elyra repeated.
“To Kaia,” Tiernan echoed, voice low and fierce.
The word rolled around the hall.
There were still holdouts.
Garron stayed seated, jaw clenched.
Lyra rose halfway, then sank back down when she caught her father’s eye.
I saw it.
It still stung.
But the warmth in my chest—the glow of those who *did* stand—outshone the cold.
I lifted my goblet with a slightly shaking hand.
“Thank you,” I said, voice not carrying nearly as well as Elyra’s but strong enough. “I…won’t let you burn.”
It was a stupid thing to say.
Too blunt.
Too raw.
But it was true.
And for once, I let my truth hang in the air without flinching.
Elyra’s smile was small but real.
The feast resumed.
Food appeared—roasted meats, root vegetables softened with herbs, fresh bread, winter berries preserved in honey.
Brenna shot me looks down the table like *eat or I will come over there and force-feed you*.
I ate.
Talk ebbed and flowed around me.
Alphas discussed trade routes.
Betas compared training methods.
Warriors boasted about scars.
I listened more than I spoke, cataloguing faces, scents, tones.
A tall, dark-skinned alpha from Frostfang Pack—Alpha Nyla—had eyes that missed nothing and a laugh that rolled warm and unexpected. A lean, sharp-featured alpha from Ironpine—Alpha Varek—watched everyone with hawk-like intensity, his fingers tapping out an anxious rhythm on the table.
A few of them glanced at me with naked curiosity.
One or two with open suspicion.
Dessert came—apple tarts, honey cakes, mulled wine.
I nursed my drink, feeling the warmth spread.
Tiernan’s thigh pressed against mine under the table, steady.
At some point, the conversation around us loosened.
Elyra and Rhys were drawn into a heated debate with Alpha Varek about border patrol responsibilities. Nyla cackled with Rian over some old story from a previous Summit.
“Bored?” Tiernan murmured.
“Overwhelmed,” I admitted.
“Want to cause trouble?” he asked, eyes glinting.
I eyed him warily. “Define ‘trouble.’”
“Small trouble,” he said. “Harmless. Might make you feel better.”
Ashra perked up. *We like trouble.*
“I’m listening,” I said slowly.
He leaned in, breath warm near my ear.
“There are too many alphas in this room who think an elemental is just fire and flash,” he said. “And too many omegas and warriors who think you’re still the girl fetching their plates. Would you like to…recalibrate their understanding?”
My pulse kicked.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Dance,” he said.