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That was even more confusing to me. I thought these matriarchs were allies to be won over. But it was much more of an us-versus-them atmosphere in the car.

"Astrid, remember your manners today."

"When am I not polite, Ma?"

"You're slouching and pouting right now."

Astrid sighed.

Listening to the exchange, a familiar, bitter knot tightened in my gut. I felt the sharp prickle of annoyance I always felt whenever Sorsha had fussed over my appearance—relentlessly picking at my hair, fixing my clothes, and treating me like a doll about to be put up for auction.

"Though Goddess knows you don't need to prove anything," Mei Ling added softly, her voice melting with an unmistakable warmth. "I am so proud of you, Astrid. You've worked so hard at university, and you carry yourself with such grace."

Astrid sighed again, but it didn't sound irritated this time. I heard the sound of a kiss pressed against a cheek. "Thanks, Ma."

I sat frozen behind my black lenses. The gesture befuddled me completely. In my world, a mother's critique was followed by punishment or cold dismissal, never by genuine pride and affection. A pang of envy sliced straight through my ribs before I could lock it down.

The car slowed, the tires sliding over a brick driveway instead of asphalt. My ears picked up the thrumming of heavy iron gates swinging shut, sealing us off from the city noise. The tires transitioned from smooth asphalt to the crunch of gravel, vibrating slightly through the chassis. Outside, the atmosphere changed from the stale, exhaust-heavy city air to the damp perfume of manicured rose gardens and blooming lavender. Through the haze of my sight, the venue rose before us. It was a looming silhouette against the sky, heavy with cold stone and centuries of high-society weight.

I tilted my head, listening past the hum of the engine. I heard the crisp, uniform footfalls of valet attendants standing at attention, the heavy rustle of their starched lapels as they moved into position, and the unmistakable, synchronized heartbeats of trained enforcers guarding the velvet-roped walkway leading into the main atrium. Inside the venue was the high-pitched clink of fine porcelain teacups, silver spoons scraping against crystal, and the soft, modulated murmurs of the women gathered inside.

Not everyone received an invitation to Mei Ling’s quarterly gatherings. I smoothed the front of my dress, my wolf purring low and dangerous in my chest. The men believed they ran the territory with their fangs and their brute strength, but this was where the real power of the regional packs was brokered: over warm porcelain and cold, smiling lips.

My feet stopped just past the threshold. Nell, Addie, and Astrid had already been dispatched to their respective stations; Nell to coordinate the luncheon staff, Addie to oversee the catering logistics, and Astrid to manage the seating arrangements for the pack matriarchs.

I lingered near the entrance, my hands folded over the front of my dress, fully expecting to be dismissed. My human vision was a useless haze of dark silhouettes and soft lighting. In a room filled with logistics and high-society staging, a legally blind bride was nothing more than a liability.

"Rosalind, you're with me," Mei Ling said smoothly, her silk gown rustling as she moved.

I hesitated, my head tilting slightly toward the sound of her voice. "I'll just stay out of your way. I wouldn't want to disrupt anything."

"You're not in my way. I could use your help."

I stood perfectly still, my mind racing beneath my calm exterior. Sorsha would never have asked for my help unless it was a command wrapped in a threat. Mei Ling was different; she operated on a completely different frequency of matriarchal power.

"There will be nearly forty women here today. I know all of them, but I don't always remember whose daughter just got engaged, whose husband is recovering from surgery, or whose son was recently promoted. I think the Morettis had a daughter get engaged recently."

"Lucia Moretti's daughter got engaged three weeks ago," I said. "Her name is Bianca. Marisol Vega's husband had knee surgery in July, and Helena Costa's youngest son was promoted after Victor Volki's unfortunate demise."

A beat of silence.

"Exactly," Mei Ling said.

I wished I was in my wolf form. I wished I could see her face clearly. I felt as if she was examining me, seeing through me straight to my bones. Likely, to my soul and the dark shadow of it. But I didn't feel like I was being hunted by the Blackwood matriarch. I felt like I'd just aced a test.

"You notice people. Things the rest of us miss. Stay near me when we greet them. If there's something I should remember, or something I don't know, tell me."

This was kind of what my mother asked me to do for her. But my mother sent me to fetch. She'd never empowered me to show her any of the balls I'd retrieved on my own.

"Are you okay with that, Rosalind?"

"Yes, Ma."

"Good girl. I have no doubt Sorsha prepared you thoroughly in the ways of matriarchal pack hierarchy."

A sharp prickle dragged down my spine. I wondered if Mei Ling knew I had snuck into her office in the middle of the night, if she’d smelled my wolf form on her rosewood desk, or if she’d noticed her social diary shifted by a fraction of a millimeter.

"You trust I won't use that information against you?" I asked.