Chapter 269

Agnes

One year later.

I stood in front of my mirror, hardly recognizing the woman staring back at me. Two years. It had been two years since I met Elijah—not counting that foggy night we conceived Thea seven years before that, a night neither of us could fully remember thanks to whatever drugs had been slipped into our drinks.

Two years since I arrived at his estate, desperate and broken, needing nothing but money to help me search for the daughter I thought was dead. Two years since Elijah chose me in the Mate Trial. Two years since we kissed under the stars and my wolf stirred from her curse-induced slumber for a brief moment only to whisper that he was my mate.

Two years of finding out the truth about my daughter, discovering my elemental heritage, destroying an ancient stone, and somehow, against all odds, building a life that finally felt whole.

And now, here I was, preparing for a birthday party I’d spent weeks trying to avoid.

“It’s just another day,” I had insisted when Thea first brought up the idea. “We don’t need to make a fuss.”

But my daughter, nearly eleven years old now, was nothing if not persistent. She’d fixed me with those serious eyes of hers—so much like Elijah’s—and said, “You deserve a party, Mom.”

I might have still resisted, but then she dropped the bomb: “I want it to be a masquerade ball. Like the one where Daddy chose you.”

And that was that. How could I say no to her? After everything she’d been through, if she wanted to throw her mother a masquerade ball for her birthday, then by the Goddess, she would get her masquerade ball.

Elijah had backed her up entirely, of course. The two of them spent weeks planning, turning our home into something straight out of a fairy tale. They kept most of the details secret from me, wanting it to be a surprise, but I wasn’t blind to the decorators coming and going, the deliveries of flowers and lights, the hushed conversations that stopped whenever I entered a room.

And now the night had arrived, and I was getting ready in our bedroom while the finishing touches were being put on the ballroom downstairs. The dress I wore was the same one I’d worn to the Mate Trial—the shimmering gown my mother had made for Elijah’s mother all those years ago.

I smoothed my hands over the bodice, feeling the intricate beadwork beneath my fingertips. The scars on my right palm caught on the delicate material, a permanent reminder of what we’d survived. I still caught myself sometimes, trying to summon fire that would never come again. The scar tissue would tingle, almost like a phantom limb, but the flames remained extinguished.

I pushed the thought away and slipped on the silk gloves I’d picked out specifically so I wouldn’t have to think about those scars tonight, however faint they may be by now. Tonight wasn’t about what I’d lost. It was about what I’d gained.

The dress fit like a glove, just as it had two years ago. Wearing it made me feel connected to my mother in a way that nothing else could.

If only she’d lived long enough to tell me the truth about her elemental powers. Had long she known about them? Had she struggled with them the way I had? Would she have missed them, too, just as I missed mine? There were so many questions I would never get answers to.

But I still had my memories of her—the way she’d brush my hair before bed, singing softly under her breath; watching her sew garments for her clients; making me pancakes in the morning, even when her fingers were sore from needle pricks after spending the night beading dresses just like this one.

Those memories were precious, and they were enough.

I reached for the final piece of my outfit—a delicate silver mask that covered the upper half of my face, leaving only my lips and chin exposed. The silver was so pure that it shone like a mirror, reflecting the light when I moved.

I had made it specially for tonight. Oddly enough, it had taken me a long time to design, far longer than my usual designs at work.

I guess I just wanted it to be perfect. Not to cover my face, but to reflect it.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Mom?” Thea’s voice called. “Everyone’s waiting. Are you ready?”

I took one last look in the mirror, adjusted the mask slightly, and turned toward the door.

“Ready,” I said, opening it to find my daughter standing there in a midnight blue dress that she had designed herself. Her own mask, shaped like butterfly wings, glittered with tiny crystals. She had the fashion design bug, just like me and my mother.

“You look really pretty,” she said, her eyes widening as she took in my appearance.

“So do you, sweetheart.” I bent to kiss the top of her head, careful not to disturb the intricate updo Richard’s stylist had created for her. Richard had become something of an honorary grandfather to Thea over the past year, doting on her like the child he never got to have. I was glad for it, too, because my parents weren’t around to do it.

“Come on,” Thea said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the hallway. “Daddy’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs to announce you.”

I followed her through the corridor, my heart beating a little faster with each step. Why was I nervous? These were our friends, our pack. There was nothing to fear.

But as we approached the grand staircase that led down to the ballroom, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anxiety. The last time I’d descended these stairs in this dress, I’d been terrified—a wolfless nobody entering a room full of powerful Alphas and Lunas and women who all wanted to compete with me.

Thea squeezed my hand once before releasing it. “I’ll go down first,” she whispered.

Before I could respond, she was gone, practically skipping down the stairs. I watched her reach the bottom, where Elijah waited in a tuxedo that fit him perfectly. He bent to whisper something in her ear, and she giggled before disappearing into the crowd.

I took a deep breath and stepped into view at the top of the staircase.

The ballroom fell silent as all eyes turned to me. Unlike the Mate Trial, where I’d been met with curious stares and judgmental whispers, tonight the crowd watched with something like reverence.

Richard was there, looking healthier than he had in years. Henry and Krystal stood nearby, their hands intertwined.

Gertrude and Evelyn were standing by the buffet—Evelyn’s hand was resting on the swell of her belly, six months pregnant by now. The two had decided to denounce the idea of marriage to a man and had bought a house together instead, and Evelyn had gotten pregnant through artificial insemination. They intended to raise a child together, two women who had little interest in romantic love, and I admired them for it.

And at the center of it all, Elijah.

My mate. My partner. My equal. The man who had fought beside me, believed in me, supported me through everything.

Just as Thea said, he was waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase.

I began my descent, one hand trailing lightly on the banister. With each step, memories flooded through me—the pain of losing Thea, the emptiness of life without my wolf, the fear of facing Olivia, the agony of my stepmother’s betrayal, the terror of entering that facility, the desperation of destroying the stone, the grief of losing my father.

But also the joy of finding Thea again, the completeness of reconnecting with my wolf, the love I felt for Elijah, the peace we’d finally found together not as chosen mates, but fated ones.

So much had happened since the last time I walked down these stairs in this dress. Amazing things, horrible things, and all of the mundane things in between. And yet at the same time, it felt like so little had changed, hadn’t it? I was still Agnes, still Thea’s mother, still Elijah’s mate. The core of who I was remained unchanged, despite everything we’d been through.

As I reached the bottom of the staircase, I hesitated, looking out over the sea of masked faces. For a brief moment, I was transported back to that night two years ago—scared, uncertain, out of place.

And then, just like that day, Elijah turned and met my gaze across the room.

Only this time, a smile stretched across his face, warm and genuine and full of love. He moved through the crowd toward me, never breaking eye contact, until he stood before me, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance, my love?”