024 - The Vision

024 - The Vision
|||YASMIN|||

Mira's hands worked through my hair with practiced efficiency, pinning sections up while another woman—younger, with kind brown eyes—held out hairpins one at a time. They'd arrived at dawn, barely giving me time to wake before pulling me from bed and into preparations.

"We're getting you married today," Mira had announced, her eyes bright with excitement.

Today. The word still felt unreal, like something happening to someone else.

Zeirik had said he would handle everything. That I just had to be there. And apparently he had, because here I stood in a dress I'd never seen before, in a room that smelled of rose water and my building nerves and anticipation.

I'd assumed that being married this soon—just two days after my divorce was finalized—would be against some rule, some law. But apparently it wasn't. Or perhaps rules didn't apply to generals who'd just won wars.

Even the Alpha King gave his approval which I received this morning.

The dress they'd chosen was red. Deep, rich red like wine or blood or sunset. It was so different from the ceremonial emerald gown I'd worn for my marriage to Cassien. That dress had been heavy with embroidery and jewels, layers upon layers of silk that had made me feel like a doll being dressed for display.
It was a dress fit for the future queen. I was new to their customs, their traditions, so I didn't argue then even though I hated it.

Cassien and I had laughed it off days later, we were both forced to wear what we hated.
I froze when my thoughts drifted off to him, again.

This dress was simpler. The fabric hugged my body, following the lines of my figure without restricting movement. The neckline dipped to show my shoulders and collarbone, then swept across my chest in a way that was elegant rather than improper. The bodice cinched at my waist, highlighting the curve there before the skirt fell in soft folds to the floor.

It suited me in a way the other dress never had.

"There," Mira said, stepping back to admire her work. My hair was pinned up in an elegant twist, with a few loose curls framing my face. "Perfect."

The other woman clasped her hands together, her face flushing with emotion. "I've never seen a woman as beautiful as you, Princess."

Heat crept up my neck at the adoring look in her eyes. "Thank you," I managed.

They led me from the room, one on each side like guards or bridesmaids or both. My heart hammered against my ribs with each step. The hallways passed in a blur of stone and tapestries until we reached a door that opened onto the gardens.

I stopped in the doorway, my breath catching.

The ceremony was being held in the garden of the general's wing. I'd expected something hastily thrown together, rough around the edges. Instead, what lay before me was breathtaking.

White fabric draped between the bare winter trees, creating a canopy that tamed the weak morning sunlight into something softer, almost magical. Lanterns hung from branches, their glass panes catching the light and throwing patterns across the snow-covered ground. Someone had swept a path through the snow, revealing the stone walkway beneath, and lined it with evergreen branches that gave off a sharp, clean scent.

At the end of the path stood an arch made of twisted wood, decorated with white winter roses—the kind that only bloomed in the coldest months. Red ribbon wound through the arrangement, matching my dress.

I was struck by how much they'd accomplished in just one evening. The elegance of it, the attention to detail. This wasn't a hasty wedding thrown together out of necessity. Someone had cared enough to make it beautiful.

Then I noticed the guests.

As per custom, the Alpha King and Queen were required to attend any general's wedding or child naming ceremony, no matter what. So there stood King Melbourne, Cassien's father, his broad frame wrapped in a heavy fur-lined coat. His face was neutral, showing neither surprise nor upset at what was happening.

Next to him stood Victoria, the Queen. Her expression was the opposite—barely contained contempt twisted her features, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes found mine and held, cold and judgmental.

Then I saw Hana.

My steps faltered. The pregnant woman stood near the back, her hand resting on the swell of her belly. Her 'innocent' eyes took in my appearance, and I could have sworn I saw something smug in her expression, something satisfied.

Who had invited her?

There were only ten people in total. A few faces I didn't recognize—older men and women who carried themselves like nobility or high-ranking officials. Zeirik's friend Marcus stood near the front, the priest's son who'd helped rush through the paperwork. Mira took her place among the small crowd, looking rather proud.

No one from my family was here.

The realization hit me harder than expected. Just like my last wedding, I would stand here alone. No mother to adjust my dress or father to walk me down the path. No siblings to tease me or cousins to whisper congratulations.

I'd thought it wouldn't hurt as much as last time. I was wrong.

Homesickness washed over me, sharp and bitter. I missed them. I regretted leaving Ysgradil, regretted ever agreeing to marry into this pack where I'd always be an outsider.

Then my eyes found Zeirik, and everything else fell away.

He stood beneath the arch, dressed in red that matched my own. The color should have looked strange on him, too bold or too formal. Instead, it made him look regal. His large frame filled the wedding attire perfectly—the tailored coat emphasizing his broad shoulders, the fitted trousers showing the strength in his legs.

He looked perfectly fit to be a king.

His mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. There was something in his gaze, something sincere and steady. He was trying to calm my nerves, I realized. Trying to tell me without words that everything would be alright.

I saw the vision then. Saw him standing not in a garden but in a throne room, crown on his head, power radiating from him like heat from a flame. He could do it. He could be everything I'd promised to help him become.