Fabio's POV
The room was dim, the flames in the hearth casting long shadows upon granite walls. I sat at the round table, facing the Circle of Elders. They were some of the oldest wolves among us, all too old to hold any active position in court but active enough to share their wisdom. Every great Wolf King before me had consulted with the Elders before making heavy decisions that would affect the Kingdom. Cloaked in deep, ancient silks and heavy furs, they regarded me with varying expressions as I told them what transpired yesterday at the wedding ceremony.
Elder Theon spoke first, asking in a tense tone, "You are certain?"
"Absolutely." I leaned forward, jaw tight. "The woman I married is not Genevieve. She's her twin, Giselle."
"And you are fated mates? You felt the bond?" Another asked.
"I did," I said, a hard edge to my voice, "But now I wish to know how to break it."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Elder Moria, whose eyes had seen five kings crowned, raised a wrinkled hand.
"The bond is real, Your Majesty. No spell can forge that. If the Goddess bound you to her, then she is your true mate."
"Even if it's a mistake? Even if I still feel—" I stopped short, emotions still fresh. Her name lodged in my throat like poison. Genevieve. I just couldn't believe that my childhood friend, the woman I believed I loved, would run away a day before our wedding. No, I couldn't. There has to be another reason, a coverup by her parents and sister perhaps. And I was determined to find it out.
"The heart is stubborn, my king," Elder Moria said softly. "But the bond knows better."
Another Elder I couldn't recognize grunted, "Exposing this deception could fracture the court. The nobles already whisper. They saw you marry a daughter of Vonteguarde. If you reveal now she was not the one they expected, many will see weakness, indecision. An unhappy Court is a dangerous one."
I clenched my fist. "So I'm to live with a liar? Pretend she belongs here?"
Theon met my gaze. He was easily the oldest of them all and the closest thing I've had to a father, "She does belong here. By law. By bond. And perhaps—by destiny."
I scoffed, pushing back from the table. "I will never stop looking for Genevieve."
"You may find her," Moria said. "But whether she is your mate... that answer has already been given."
***
Giselle's POV
One of the King's guards had come to our chateau to pick me up the next morning. I had barely said goodbye to Dad and Mom; much of the time was spent packing every dress I own into three suitcases. Mom was sniffling by the time we were finished packing, even Dad had a hard time looking at me. I could understand. Genevieve was gone and I was getting married to the most powerful Alpha in the country.
I showered quickly, refusing assistance from the maids. I needed some time to myself, needed to think. Leaning on the tiled wall for Goddess with water running down my hair for knows how long, reality suddenly struck me. I came home for a brief holiday with my parents and sister and now I'm married to Montegnera's King. Not to mention he's my true mate; my wolf as dormant as it was, had sensed the bond.
I allowed the maids to dress me at least, stuffing me inside a mercifully lighter lavender dress with a moderately wide muslin skirt. A luxury Rolls Royce was waiting at the open grounds to pick me up. Looking back to wave at my parents, I realized that I was going to an unfamiliar place, that now I was truly alone. A rush of despair filled my chest and then the tears came relentlessly.
It has been barely five minutes since we drove away and I'm already homesick.
Wiping my tears with my dress, I steeled myself; crying won't change anything, I said to myself.
We arrived at the palace the next day with much fanfare. The city was alive with song and music and people crowding the streets to see their new 'Queen'. Children ran alongside the road tossing white rose petals, the traditional flower of blessings. Vendors waved, and musicians played flutes and drums as the car passed through the gold-trimmed archway that led to the palace road. Banners bearing the royal crest flapped in the morning breeze—two silver wolves on crimson silk. A young boy waved at me, holding out a red rose in one hand.
I turned down the window seal to accept the flower, smiling softly at the child and waving at the rest. The crowds cheers grew louder and in an instant the car was filling up with flowers. I rolled the window back up.
Pressing a trembling hand to my chest, I tried to put all the flowers in a bunch. "They must think I'm with the King, or another royal," I whispered to myself.
The chauffeur seemed to hear me because he let out a small bark of laughter, speaking with an accent I couldn't place, "Believe me, yer Highness, the people love ye. The wedding yesterday was televised live, it's even the most watched media in the country right now."
To say I was speechless was not an exaggeration. The Kingdom, the people…they love me?
As though he heard my question, the chauffeur continued, "Ye even have a nickname now; the red Queen, an acknowledgement of yer lovely red hair." he said, "Take it from me, I've been doing this job for years, seen nobility come and go, there's never been this much of a crowd in years!"
I said nothing to him after that, I didn't know how to respond. A glimpse of my reflection in the carriage window caught my eye. The emerald and silver gown was tailored to perfection, my red hair braided with white pearls. To anyone watching, I was regal, poised but inside, I was breaking.
We soon arrived at the palade and the gates opened before us, and the palace glinting in the morning sun like a living monument of marble and obsidian. Guards bowed and the chauffeur rushed to open my door.
As I stepped out, I felt him before I saw him.
Fabio. My mate. My husband.
He was dressed in formal black with silver embroidery, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and flanked by his bodyguards, a perfect statue of royal power. His eyes met mine and narrowed slightly, but his lips held a ghost of a smile for the crowd. Thankfully, the press and media folks weren't allowed on palace grounds so I didn't have to worry about making a fool of myself on national television.
"Your Majesty," I greeted stiffly with a low courtesy, extending a hand but not touching his just like Mom taught me.
"Giselle." He acknowledged simply, accepting my hand. He noticed the rose I held, a gift from the young boy in the crowd earlier. "Where did you get that?" He asked.
"O-oh, just some kid in the crowd, he-"
Fabio snatched the rose from my hand and threw it on the grass.
I gasped.
"Nothing unvetted is allowed in your possession," he said coolly. "A poisoned petal could undo an empire. This is basic knowledge, Lady Giselle."
I nodded, cheeks heated in embarrassment, trying not to let the sting of his words show. The rose wasn't just a gift to me—it was the first kind gesture I'd received since my marriage.
"Come," Fabio said, gesturing forward. "We don't dawdle in the royal court."
He walked ahead without waiting, leaving me to catch up like an afterthought. I scrambled forward, my heels clicking on the cobbled path as palace staff bowed in sequence along the carpeted hallway.
"You walk too heavily," Fabio muttered as I fell in step beside him.
I looked at him, startled. "Excuse me?"
"You're not in a provincial parade anymore. You're a queen, or rather, you will be 'acting as one', if you manage to survive etiquette training." He grunted, his words scathing.
My brows knitted together in confusion, "Etiquette training?"
"Yes. A royal governess will begin working with you tomorrow. You'll learn the language of fans, of courtly glances, of silence. You'll learn how to carry yourself with grace and diplomacy. This is Montegnera, Giselle, not a country fair."
"B-but I'm already nobility, born to a Grand Duke-"
"A duchy is not a palace, Giselle," He said with an exasperated scoff, then stopped suddenly and leaned in to whisper, "You will learn everything possible to look like a competent Queen of this country or forfeit your claim, and by the gods I hope you fail."
He pulled away and for a split second I could see the viciousness he hid behind his smirk.
"I… I'll do my best then" I said, trying not to sound as shaken as I felt.
"See that you do."
We stepped into the Great Hall. Servants opened the massive gold-trimmed doors with a flourish. I was meant to be impressed, but the chill in Fabio's voice and the weight of the palace suddenly made everything feel… less.
Fabio showed me my quarters, a room beside his. It was significantly bigger than my room back home; rich purple draperies on the walls, tall ceilings hand painted with abstract art, a small nook by the window for resting and a gold and lavender theme that tied the room together.
He started to walk away but paused by the door's threshold.
"Tonight, we fulfill tradition."
My breath caught. "You mean—"
"Yes. The consummation," he said flatly. "Unfortunately, we are required by law.
I swallowed hard, unsure if I could make it through this night.