Chapter 8 - The Crimson Veil
The grand cathedral of Baldross had not seen a royal wedding in over a century.
Its soaring vaulted ceilings echoed with the harmonious chords of ancient pack hymns, while thousands of burning white candles cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of gathered nobles, foreign emissaries, and pack leaders. Every eye was locked on the grand double doors at the front of the nave.
When the heavy oak doors swung open, a collective gasp rippled through the congregation.
Maren stood on the threshold.
She wore a gown spun from silver silk and heavy velvet, embroidered with intricate patterns of crescent moons and blooming winter roses. The fabric cascaded down in a shimmering train that trailed behind her like starlight. But what drew every gaze was her face—specifically, her forehead.
The spiral Veorn brand was still there, dark and distinct against her pale skin. But it was no longer concealed or treated as a mark of shame. Theron had insisted that it remain uncovered, a permanent testament to who she was, a proud declaration that Baldross would no longer hide its history or its truth.
Standing beside her, holding a toddling Prince Tavian—who was dressed in a miniature velvet doublet with the royal crest pinned proudly to his chest—was Alpha King Theron.
He wore the traditional ceremonial armor of the Baldross dynasty, forged from blackened steel inlaid with pure silver. But the fierce, terrifying coldness that had once defined his features was entirely gone. As his eyes locked onto Maren, a rare, breathtaking softness transformed his face.
Maren took a deep breath, her heart hammering a joyful rhythm against her ribs. She took her first step forward down the long carpet.
As she walked, she remembered the frozen wasteland, the dying infant in the snow, and the lonely nights she had spent believing she was unlovable. Now, every painful memory melted away under the warmth of the hundreds of eyes watching her—not with fear or disgust, but with absolute reverence.
She reached the altar, where Theron stepped forward to meet her, taking her hand in his. His palm was warm, strong, and steady.
May you like
“You look breathtaking,” Theron murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Your Majesty,” Maren whispered back with a playful smile, earning a genuine, deep-throated chuckle from the Alpha King that left the front rows of nobles staring in absolute shock.
