"Spine straight, shoulders back, chin slightly elevated," the instructor said, tapping my back lightly with her rod. "As Mr. Blackwood's fiancée, you must carry yourself accordingly."
In the afternoons, the seamstress came to take my measurements, bringing fabrics and design sketches.
"The engagement gown must be flawless," she declared. A stern middle-aged woman, she circled me with a critical eye. "This color won't do—too dark, it'll wash you out. Try this ivory instead. It'll complement your complexion beautifully."
At night, when all grew quiet, I would sit by the window gazing at the distant lights of the estate, imagining what Kayden was doing.
Was he still hunting? What prey would he bring for me? Was he as eager for the full moon as I was?
I missed him. Missed him with an ache that consumed me.
Since that night... we hadn't spoken again. The mate bond remained, but it felt one-sided, cold. I could sense the other end's presence, but felt no emotions flowing through.
Perhaps he was suppressing it. Perhaps he was maintaining distance until the ceremony.
"By tradition, the betrothed cannot meet before the engagementceremony," Drake had explained. "It makes the reunion all the more meaningful."
So I waited. Patiently, hopefully.
The days slipped by.
Under careful tending, my skin grew smooth and radiant, my hair became lustrous and soft, my frame filled out slightly from proper nourishment. I mastered the graceful walk, the appropriate smile, the bearing befitting a Luna.
The gown took shape stitch by stitch. When the seamstress first had me try it on, I stood before the mirror and barely recognized myself.
The ivory gown embraced my figure—the sweetheart neckline revealing elegant collarbones and neck, the fitted waist accentuating my slender form, the skirt spreading across the floor like a blooming flower.
"Perfect," the seamstress said with satisfaction. "You look like the Moon Goddess incarnate."
I stared at my reflection, eyes stinging with tears.
Was this truly me? That ash-covered girl who'd cowered in kitchen corners?
"You'll be the most beautiful bride," Amy said, arranging my train. "Mr. Blackwood will be so proud."
As Amy and Lina were leaving, I stopped them.
"I want to make a bouquet," I said. "By hand, for the engagement ceremony."
The two attendants exchanged surprised glances.
"But Miss Gray, the pack will provide all the floral arrangements..."
"I know," I interrupted. "But I want to create one for him myself. It's... It's the only thing I can offer him."
What I left unsaid was that it was truly all I had to give. Kayden had provided everything—the luxurious quarters, the exquisite gown, the grand ceremony. And what could I offer in return?
Only my heart, and this handmade bouquet.
My words moved Amy. "I understand. I'll gather the materials for you."
Over the following days, I devoted every spare moment to designing the bouquet.
I sketched endlessly, experimenting with different arrangements. White roses for pure love, blue larkspur for devotion, anemones for anticipation. I wanted to weave every beautiful blessing into these flowers.
My hands blistered from constant practice, but I didn't care. I would create the perfect bouquet. I would show Kayden how deeply I cherished all of this, how deeply I cherished him.
On the final night before the full moon, I completed the design at last.
