Rejected on My Binding Day

Today was meant to be my Binding Day. The day Kael Blackwood would claim me as his Luna before the entire Ashwood Pack. We’d grown up side by side, trained together since we were whelps. To everyone, we were the ideal pair. Future Alpha and Luna. Stable. Fated. Secure. For what felt like the hundredth time, I smoothed the front of my ceremonial gown and cast another anxious glance toward the grand archway. Still empty. No one had come—not my parents, not my brother Rhys, not even Kael.

Only me, standing utterly alone in the cavernous silence. I pulled my phone from a hidden pocket, checking it for the fifth time. No new alerts. My thumb hesitated over Kael’s contact before I pressed call. It rang twice, then clicked to his generic voicemail greeting. I stared at the darkening screen, a hollow laugh catching in my throat. Then, the pack-wide notification blazed across the display: [WELCOME HOME, SELENE STERLING]. An attached video began to play automatically.

There they were—my entire family. All of them gathered at the landing platforms of Silver Peaks, where the sky-skiffs docked. My father’s face was split by a wide grin, my mother dabbing at her eyes, and Rhys had lifted Selene off her feet in a whirlwind of a hug. And Kael was there too, positioned just behind her, a silent, solid presence. Selene’s platinum hair shone like spun gold under the hanging orb-lights. Her hand was tucked possessively in the crook of Kael’s arm, as if it were its rightful place. It always had been.

A searing ache tightened in my chest. A moment later, my phone vibrated. This time, it was Kael.

“Don’t be theatrical, Elara,” his voice was flat, dismissive, as if I’d interrupted him with something trivial. “We’ll reschedule the Binding. Selene just returned from her Alpha trials at Wyvern’s Howl Academy—”

The connection died.

I stared at the silent device, my fingertips tingling with the urge to let my claws unsheathe. Around me, the ceremonial chamber was tomb-quiet, the only movement the delicate drift of luminous moon-bloom petals settling on the stone floor. I looked down at the gown I’d painstakingly embroidered with threads of liquid silver. It now lay around me like a discarded pelt, a symbol of a station I clearly wasn’t meant to hold.

I let it slip from my shoulders and left it in a shimmering heap on the dais.

The Stormcrest Pack compound was a roar of noise and light when I slipped back inside. The scent of roasting venison from the rear fire-pit clashed with the overpowering fragrance of rose and honey-vine that permeated the halls—Selene’s signature scent, aggressively erasing all others. Raucous laughter and chatter spilled from the great room. A homecoming feast, vibrant and utterly oblivious.

No one noticed as I entered through the scullery door.

I went straight to my chamber, sat on the edge of my bed, and opened the worn journal on my nightstand. To a simple, damning list. Every instance I’d been forgotten. Overlooked. Made secondary. With a steady hand, I added a new line at the bottom:

Binding Ceremony. Stood alone.

A heavy fist pounded on my door before it swung inward. Rhys strode in as if it were his own room, his boots thudding on the wooden planks. “There you are.” His gaze swept over me, taking in the folded gown on my chair and the half-written petition to The Conclave on my desk. “Selene’s craving your spiced meatloaf. Make it extra hot—she says she’s missed your cooking.”

I looked at him, my hands resting calmly in my lap. “You missed my Binding.”

Rhys blinked, then shrugged, the motion casual and infuriating. “It’s just a formality. You and Kael can do it next new moon, or the one after. Selene’s back, Elara. We haven’t seen her in a full cycle.” He picked up my journal from the nightstand, flipping through the pages without permission. “You’re still keeping this pathetic record?” His eyes snagged on the fresh entry. Just above it, in bold, underlined letters: FINAL WARNING. He let out a derisive snort. “What’s this supposed to be? Some grand declaration? You planning to run off and live as a rogue?” He tossed the journal back onto the rumpled blankets. “Just make the meatloaf, Elara.”

I rose slowly and walked past him toward the kitchen. My skin prickled and stung as I pulled the seasoned meat from the preservation unit. The new cleansing bars they’d brought back for me—Selene’s preferred brand—had left angry red patches on my hands and arms. Rhys leaned against the doorway, watching me with an intensity that felt more like scrutiny than concern. “Why so quiet?” he asked. “Plotting to slip something into her food?”

Before I could form a reply, her melodic voice floated in from the great room. “Rhys! The glazed chestnuts are ready!”

He rolled his eyes, muttering “Coming,” before turning and striding away without a backward glance.

I rinsed my hands under the cold tap, watching the inflammation fade to a faint, blotchy pink. My gaze drifted to the kitchen counter. There sat the elaborate bonding cake I’d special-ordered. Untouched, the frosting still perfect. Beside it rested the pair of bonding rings, sealed in their plush velvet case.