Page 43

LYRA

I t started with a cake tasting.

Which, really, was a lie, because Lyra didn’t taste so much as inhale the entire first tray Calla had brought over.

“I’m just saying,” Lyra mumbled, mouth full of enchanted vanilla-lavender frosting, “if the wedding is just this cake and a nap, I’d still call it a success.”

“You are impossible,” Calla laughed, swatting her arm. “You’re supposed to nibble, not devour like a pastry-gremlin.”

Lyra shrugged unapologetically, crumbs on her lip. “I’m celebrating. I just got claimed under a full moon by the hottest Alpha in the mountains. I deserve cake.”

Calla smirked. “You deserve a crown.”

“That too.”

Milo, perched on a velvet pillow atop the center table—lifted his head. “ I deserve a crown. And a royal decree naming me Head of Magical Coordination for this ceremony.”

“You’re already wearing three necklaces and a pinecone tiara,” Lyra said.

“Accessories. Not authority.”

Calla rolled her eyes. “I swear if he starts demanding a staff of interns again, I’m putting a silence hex on him.”

Milo blinked. “Rude. Effective. But rude.”

Lyra chuckled, letting the joy soak in. For once, life wasn’t on fire. There were no missing Alphas. No rogue wolves. Just a flurry of white linens, potion-laced champagne plans, and a binder labeled Operation: Moon Mate Matrimony .

It was her binder.

She may have gotten a little carried away.

Okay, a lot .

But Jace hadn’t even blinked when she showed him. Just leaned in, tapped the checklist with his index finger, and murmured, “Whatever makes you happy, Lyra.”

Her heart had done a stupid little flip-flop at that word.

Lyra.

His mate.

Not just some chaos witch from out of town with flair for trouble and a tendency to hex coffee machines.

She was his now. He was hers.

For eternity.

That afternoon, Lyra stood outside Moonfang Keep’s front garden, watching as several of Jace’s wolves dragged folding chairs through the clearing while Logan argued with a fairy baker about the difference between shimmer sugar and fairy dust.

“No one wants to hallucinate during a wedding,” Logan snapped.

“It adds whimsy,” the baker argued.

“I’ll whimsy you into next week.”

From behind a line of lilac bushes, Calla popped out with a mischievous grin, holding a bundle of newly printed programs. “We’re gonna need more chairs. Sylvie’s whole coven is coming. And they travel deep. ”

Sylvie emerged behind her, cheeks flushed, her hand subtly brushing his. “They’re only coming because I told them I’d let them enchant the aisle with moon blooms.”

“They do know this isn’t their wedding, right?” Lyra asked, amused.

Sylvie smiled sweetly. “They’re aware. But also, slightly unhinged.”

Lyra grinned. “Perfect. They'll fit right in.”

She turned back to the Keep, where Jace was stepping onto the porch, shirt sleeves rolled, clipboard in hand.

Sweet stars, he looked dangerous in daylight.

And yet he met her gaze like she was the only thing in it.

“Everything good out here?” he asked, walking over.

“Depends,” she teased. “You still sure you want to marry into this circus?”

He glanced around as Milo yelled at a pup to fetch him a spell-scroll, Logan argued with a squirrel shifter about the aisle runner, and Calla began enchanting floating lanterns with enough charm to rival a fireworks display.

“Without question,” he said. “I want all of this.”

Lyra melted a little.

They stepped away from the chaos for a breath of peace behind the Keep, where the orchard trees bloomed early from spring magic and the wind rustled with whispers of laughter and life.

Jace leaned against the fence, eyes following a hawk overhead.

“You know,” he said quietly, “they really do love you.”

She blinked at him. “Who?”

“My pack. The town. All of it.”

Lyra looked down at her hands. “Sometimes I still feel like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s fairy tale.”

“You’re not.” He turned her to face him. “You fought for this. Bled for it. Protected every soul here like it was your own. You are one of us.”

She swallowed.

“I’m proud of you, Lyra. I trust you. And I don’t say that easy.”

Her eyes stung.

She stepped closer, burying her face in his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Montgomery.”

They stood like that until the light dipped low and the smell of mooncake filled the air.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by magic, madness, and a town full of misfits who had become family.

Lyra finally let herself believe it.

She belonged.

Here. With him. Forever.