The moment passed. Forced laughter resumed, but the insult had seeped into the stones, into the fabric of her gown, into the new ring on her finger. It clung to the back of her neck, cold as sweat.
And she could feel her husband beside her—like a storm banked just behind a mountain ridge, held back only by the weight of rocks. Still. Silent, but never truly calm.
He had pushed back against Bertrand. Some might’ve said he’d defended her. Not with warmth or tenderness, but with the same steely certainty he used when wielding his axe.
That should’ve reassured her, but it didn’t, because she knew his anger wasn’t aimed at Bertrand alone. He’d been made a fool. And she, whether or not she deserved it, had become the face of that humiliation.
Her fingers curled around her goblet, though she did not drink. Her mouth was dry. Her thoughts turned inward. She knew better than to speak now. She’d rather let the night end in silence than risk lighting the fire she already saw smouldering beneath his restraint.
Hours later, after the last toast was raised and the final fruit wine poured, she barely remembered leaving the hall, only the cold stone beneath her feet as she crossed the corridor.
Yrenna’s voice was gentle at her side. “This way, Sister. We’ll return you to your chamber to undress, then escort you to his.”
Guests lingered behind in the great hall with wine and laughter, their voices muffled by the heavy doors. Ahead, the bedchamber waited, the fire already lit, Aliz and another maid standing inside.
The maids began unfastening her robes. Jing Yi’s hand went to her waist where her suppressant pouch usually rested and remembered: She had left it behind—a choice. Now, with her fingers pressing against empty fabric, she was certain it had been the wrong one.
“Let us begin,” Yrenna said. “If you’re ready.”
JingYi nodded. Her voice had gone somewhere unreachable hours ago.
The maids worked in silence, unfastening her bridal robes. Layer after layer slipped away—brocade, satin, silk—folded like relics. Each piece felt less like fabric and more like armour peeled from her skin. She clutched the linen nightgown close when it was draped over her shoulders. If they noticed the marks on her body, they were merciful enough not to speak of them.
Yrenna fastened the ribbon at the neckline. “It suits you.”
Jing Yi only nodded, her throat too tight for thanks.
A heavy quilted robe was laid on top—cream wool edged in sage, warm from the fire. She drew it close as if it might hold her upright.
“Come,” Yrenna said softly. “We’ll take you to his chambers now.”
They walked the hall in silence. Jing Yi kept her gaze lowered, each step heavier than the last, her attire whispering in the hush. At last, they reached the door carved with the crest of House Wulfbane. Yrenna pushed it open. Firelight spilled out—a steady blaze in the hearth, three candles guttering low on the mantle. The maids slipped inside to smooth the linens and draw the curtains before bowing away.
Jing Yi lingered on the threshold. The room was handsome, masculine. The scent of spruce, smoke, and iron was unmistakably his. Thick rugs softened the floor, and a large carved bed loomed against the far wall. Someone had triedto soften the space—fresh upholstery, a painted screen—but it remained, undeniably, his.
The far corner drew her gaze.
There, a space had been crafted with almost reverent care. Layer upon layer of thick furs formed a plush resting place, softened further by embroidered cushions and draped gauze. Above it, a canopy arched like the sky itself, its sheer curtains shimmering in the firelight.
An Omega’s Nest.
Slowly, JingYi crossed the room. As she knelt at its edge, her gaze lifted—then stilled. Dozens of delicate wooden birds, each carved in flight, hung from the canopy on thin white ribbons. Ravens. Their black lacquered wings glinted darkly in the light, as if caught mid-soar, forever rising.
A pang caught behind her ribs—something painfully warm. No one had ever done something like this for her. No one had ever thought about what she might find beautiful, or comforting.
Then the warmth cooled, freezing solid in her chest.
He had made thisbefore. Before he saw her face. Before he knew.
“Do you like it?” Yrenna’s voice came from behind. “My brother arranged it just for you—” Her words faltered as she stepped closer. “You can change the furs, of course. Or the birds, if they don’t please you.”
JingYi turned with a practiced smile. “It’s beautiful. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
Relief softened Yrenna’s expression. She hovered a moment longer. “Would you like someone to stay with you while you wait?”
“I’d prefer to wait alone, if that’s acceptable.”
She nodded. “If you need anything—anything at all—pull the cord by the bed. Someone will come.”
