Chapter 12
Ice formed in Ioannis's stomach, though she kept her expression neutral. "Did this guard happen to mention which Luna he was referring to?"
"Nickolas's mother, actually. Such a devoted woman, never pursued anything that might distract from her duties." Violeta's voice dripped false sympathy. "Of course, that was a different generation. I'm sure Nickolas has more... modern views."
Doubt crept into Ioannis's mind like poison. Had Nickolas's supportive words been mere politeness? Was his interest in her art simply diplomatic courtesy?
"Thank you for the information," Ioannis said evenly, moving to open the studio door in clear dismissal.
Violeta's smile widened, satisfied with the seeds she'd planted. "Of course. We girls must look out for each other." She paused at the threshold. "Oh, and Ioannis? That sketch you were working on, the wolf between two worlds? How... prophetic."
After Violeta left the studio, Ioannis went back into her chair and sank into it. It was a knock at the door that snapped her back in the present. This time, it was Federico. “I saw the bitch just leave. What did she just say to you? I know it must have been bad because she was laughing and dancing as she left, as if she had scored a big victory.”
Ioannis looked up at her brother, her expression troubled. "She told me about Nickolas's mother—how she gave up all her personal interests when she became Luna. Said it was expected in Storm Strider culture."
Federico's jaw tightened as he stepped fully into the studio, closing the door behind him. "And you believed her?"
"I don't know what to believe," Ioannis admitted, gesturing helplessly at her artwork. "Everything felt so natural with Nickolas, but what if he was just being polite? What if he expects me to abandon all this once we're mated?"
"Io, listen to me." Federico pulled up a stool beside her chair, his expression serious. "I've spent months with the Storm Striders. Yes, Nickolas's mother was devoted to her duties, but she died when he was barely twelve. He's spoken to me about how he wished she'd had more time for herself, more joy in her life."
"Really?" Hope flickered in Ioannis's chest.
"Really. In fact, he's made changes specifically to ensure future Lunas have more freedom. The pack structure has evolved under his influence, even before he officially takes over as Alpha." Federico's voice grew firm. "Violeta is playing on your fears, Io. She knows you're starting to care for him."
Ioannis felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I barely know him."
"But you want to," Federico observed gently. "And that terrifies you because it makes this real, not just political, but personal."
Before she could respond, another knock echoed through the studio. This time, her mother's voice called out, "Ioannis? It's time for your fitting, dear."
"Coming, Mother," Ioannis called back, then turned to Federico. "Do you really think Nickolas meant what he said about supporting my art?"
"I think he's the first man you've met who sees your creativity as a strength rather than a distraction," Federico replied, standing. "Don't let Violeta's poison take that away from you."
As they left the studio together, Ioannis caught sight of Nickolas in the distance, walking with her father toward the main house. Even from afar, she could see the respectful attention he paid to Alpha Holland's words, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence rather than arrogant posturing.
"Fed?" she said softly.
"Yes?"
"When you were with the Storm Striders, did Nickolas ever mention what he looks for in a mate?"
Federico's smile was knowing. "He said he wanted someone who would challenge him to be better while remaining true to herself. Someone with her own passions and purposes." He paused meaningfully. "Sound like anyone you know?"
As they entered the main house, Ioannis felt some of her earlier confidence returning. Violeta might plant seeds of doubt, but Federico's words—and her own instincts about Nickolas—rang truer. She would judge for herself in the coming days.
Her mother was waiting in the family's private sitting room, the ancient wooden case containing the Moonweaver's Comb resting on a velvet cushion before her. Luna Holland's expression brightened when she saw her daughter.
"There you are. Come, sit." She patted the space beside her. "The fitting won't take long, but it's important we get it right for the ceremony."
Federico excused himself with a wink as Ioannis settled beside her mother. The case creaked as Luna Holland opened it, revealing the exquisite silver comb nestled in aged silk. Moonflowers and wolf silhouettes intertwined around moonstones that seemed to capture light from within.
"It's even more beautiful than I remembered," Ioannis whispered, reaching out to touch the delicate metalwork.
"And now it will be yours." Her mother lifted the comb carefully. "Each Luna adds something before passing it on. Your grandmother added the moonflowers when I came of age. I've added these..." She indicated the river moonstones set among the silver wolves. "Gathered from the northern waters while I carried you beneath my heart."
As her mother placed the comb in her hair, Ioannis felt the weight of generations—not just the physical heft of silver and stone, but the responsibility it represented. The comb settled perfectly against her silver-blonde waves, as if it had been crafted for her alone.
"Perfect," Luna Holland murmured, her eyes suspiciously bright. "When you wear this at your ceremony, you'll truly look like the future Luna you're meant to be."
"Mother," Ioannis began hesitantly, "did you ever... regret the political nature of your union with Father?"
Understanding dawned in her mother's eyes. "Ah. You've been thinking about your own potential match."
"Yes." Ioannis twisted her hands in her lap. "Nickolas seems... different from what I expected. But I worry about losing myself in becoming what the pack needs."
Luna Holland's laugh was soft, tinged with memory. "Oh, my dear girl. Do you think I lost myself when I became your father's mate? Look around you." She gestured to the sitting room, where her touch was evident in every carefully chosen book, every piece of art. "I brought my whole self to this union. That's what made it strong."
"But yours was a fated mate bond," Ioannis protested.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean it came without challenges." Her mother adjusted the comb slightly. "The political considerations were still there. The expectations. The duties. We chose to build something that honoured both."
"And if Nickolas and I aren't fated?" The question that had been weighing on her mind finally emerged.