I told them all of it. The shifting, the white wolf, the Mirabelle heritage, my murdered parents, the prophecy, the reason Caelan left, his father under attack, a war in another realm. Everything.
When I finished, the room was silent.
“So,” Jade said slowly, “you’re telling us you’re also a werewolf.”
“Yes.”
“From another dimension.”
“Technically.”
“And there’s a prophecy about you.”
“Apparently.”
“And your fiancé, the werewolf prince, is currently fighting a war in said other dimension. A war that started because someone staged a coup against his father, the king.”
“Also yes.”
“And you can’t go help because...”
“Because he left me here to keep me safe. Which I am still annoyed about, for the record.”
The silence stretched even longer this time.
“I’m going to need more wine,” Sloane said.
We drank, we processed, and they asked approximately a thousand questions that I could only partially answer.
“What does shifting feel like?” Margo wanted to know.
“Uncomfortable. Bones cracking, muscles reforming. But also... right? It’s hard to explain.”
“Do you have, like, wolf thoughts?” Jade asked. “Does your wolf have a name?”
“She doesn’t have a separate name. She’s me. Just... a different part of me.”
“What color are you?” Sloane asked. “As a wolf, I mean.”
“White. Pure white.”
“That’s gorgeous.” Jade sighed dreamily. “You’re going to be the prettiest werewolf queen ever.”
“I’m not going to be a queen.”
“You’re engaged to a prince. The math isn’t hard, Riley.”
I hadn’t actually thought about that. About what marrying Caelan would mean for my life. For my future.
“Can you shift?” Margo asked suddenly. “Right now? Can you show us?”
I hesitated. I’d only shifted a handful of times since that first terrifying transformation. Each time was controlled, Caelan guiding me through it, teaching me how to reach for the wolf and let it take over. I’d never done it alone. Never done it in front of anyone else.
But Caelan wasn’t here. And I needed to prove, to myself as much as to them, that I could do this.
“Stand back,” I said.
They scrambled to the edges of the room, pressing against the walls, eyes huge. Sloane grabbed a throw pillow and held it in front of her body, her makeshift shield against a wolf attack.
