“Don’t care.”
Honestly?
Fair.
Laughter echoed from the doorway.
Ingrid.
I looked up automatically as she descended the palace stairs wrapped in silver furs, and moonlight.
Years ago, seeing her would have hurt.
Would have reopened old wounds and ugly insecurities and the lingering ache of youthful rejection.
Now?
I felt nothing but respect for my brother’s mate.
Absolutely nothing.
And the realization startled me more than it should have.
Because Ingrid had never been my great love.
She had simply been the closest thing to destiny I’d imagined before meeting Amrin.
A placeholder for longing.
My Luna eclipsed her completely.
And that was as it should be.
Ingrid smiled warmly as she approached.
“You look happier,” she observed softly.
I was.
The terrifying part?
I had not even realized how miserable I’d become before Amrin.
How lonely.
How untethered.
Erik finally released me only to immediately drag me inside while shouting for servants to prepare food and alert the family.
I should have stopped him.
Instead I let it happen because some primitive part of me desperately needed to say it aloud. Needed to celebrate it.
I found her.
My mate.
Mine.
