I WAS EVERYONE'S MISTAKE UNTIL FATE ITSELF REWROTE THE TRUTH

"Strip her colors."

The command came from one of Morvessa's attendants, a wiry man Vaelith barely recognized, his voice carrying the same mechanical certainty as everything else about tonight. Two guards seized the ceremonial sash draped across her shoulders, House Ashmoor's deep blue and silver, the colors she'd worn proudly since childhood, and tore it away in one rough motion.

"That's House Ashmoor's mark." Vaelith's voice shook, though she forced herself to stand straight despite the guards' grip on her arms. "You don't have the authority to strip it."

"The Moon Forsaken hold no house, no name, no claim to any bloodline's protection." The attendant's voice was flat, reciting something memorized rather than felt. "By ancient law, this is required before banishment can proceed."

"Ancient law." She laughed, short and disbelieving. "You people keep invoking ancient law like it justifies anything you decide to do tonight."

"The law existed centuries before either of us drew breath, Vaelith Ashmoor. It does not require your approval to remain valid."

"Convenient, that a law written so long ago always seems to serve whoever's currently in power."

The attendant's expression flickered, something almost like discomfort crossing his features before he smoothed it away and gestured the guards forward. As he lifted his hand, Vaelith noticed a smear of dark ink staining two of his fingers, old and permanent, the kind that soaked into skin from years spent among ledgers and scrolls rather than ceremony. An odd thing for a man whose only task tonight seemed to be reciting rehearsed cruelty aloud.

She filed the detail away without understanding why it mattered. Everything about tonight felt like something to remember, in case remembering was all she had left.

They dragged her toward the edge of the ceremonial grounds, past rows of watching wolves who parted before her like she carried something contagious. Vaelith searched every face for some flicker of protest, some memory of kindness that might outweigh tonight's spectacle.

She found her father's face again, close enough now that she could see him clearly, jaw tight, eyes fixed resolutely on some point past her shoulder, exactly the way Rhaegor had refused to look at her earlier.

"Father." Her voice cracked. "Please. Say something. Anything."

For one terrible moment, his eyes flicked toward her. Something moved behind them, grief, maybe, or shame, before he forced his gaze away again, jaw clenching harder.

"I cannot," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear it over the guards' footsteps. "Vaelith, I cannot. House Ashmoor cannot be seen defending a Forsaken wolf. Not tonight. Not with the entire kingdom watching."

"So House Ashmoor's reputation matters more than your own daughter."

He didn't answer. He simply turned fully away this time, presenting his back to her, the same posture of studied indifference she'd watched Rhaegor adopt minutes earlier.

"You raised me to believe family meant something," she called after him, voice cracking with the effort of not breaking entirely in front of the watching crowd. "You raised me to believe loyalty went both directions."

His shoulders tightened, the only sign he'd heard her at all. He didn't turn back.

"I understand now," she said, quieter, mostly to herself. "I understand exactly what that loyalty was worth."

Distant cousins clustered near the edge of the delegation, and Vaelith caught fragments of their whispered conversation as the guards pulled her past.

"Always thought there was something strange about her," one murmured, just loud enough to be heard. "Too quiet. Too eager to please. Should have known it wasn't natural."

"Better her than one of ours," another added, not bothering to lower her voice at all. "Imagine the shame if the Goddess had rejected someone from the main line."

Vaelith's chest tightened with a fresh wave of humiliation, worse somehow than the rejection itself, the realization that people she'd shared meals with, celebrated holidays beside, had apparently been waiting for an excuse to believe the worst of her all along.

"You'll regret saying that," she said, voice low but carrying, "when you understand what actually happened here tonight."

"Threats, now." The cousin's smile was thin, satisfied. "How very Moon Forsaken of you."

They reached the outer gate of the ceremonial grounds, torchlight giving way to the deeper darkness beyond the courtyard's boundary. The guards released her arms roughly, stepping back as though she might contaminate them through prolonged contact.

"From this moment," the attendant intoned, "Vaelith Ashmoor holds no claim to house, kingdom, or Moon-blessed protection. Any wolf who offers her shelter, sustenance, or aid does so at their own peril, sharing in whatever misfortune the Goddess has judged her to carry."

"This is insane." Vaelith's voice rose, disbelief finally curdling into something closer to fury. "You're telling five kingdoms that helping a starving woman is dangerous. That kindness itself is now forbidden."

"The Goddess's judgment is not mine to soften, child." The attendant's expression didn't shift. "Be grateful banishment is the extent of your punishment. Others who questioned divine will as openly as you did tonight received considerably worse."

The words landed with a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. Vaelith filed them away, some instinct telling her this wasn't simply a threat, it was a confession, however unintentional, that "questioning divine will" had happened before, and hadn't always ended with mere exile.

"Who decides that," she asked quietly. "Who decides what happens to the ones who question and refuse to stop?"

The attendant's jaw tightened, the first genuine crack in his composure all night. "That is not for me to say."

"Not for you to say, or not something you're permitted to?"

"Does it matter which?" His eyes flicked toward her, just for a moment, something almost like warning behind them. "Either way, the answer stays the same for you. Silence, and cross the boundary quickly."

"That's not an answer. That's advice."

"Consider it a gift, then. I don't often give those." He didn't answer. He simply turned the page of his ledger, as though the conversation had already ended.

A commotion near the gate drew her attention. Selene, still draped in ceremonial silver, was pushing through the crowd of attendants gathered to witness the banishment's completion.

"Wait." Selene's voice was raw, desperate. "Please, just let me speak to her. One moment. That's all I'm asking."

"Luna Selene." One of Morvessa's attendants stepped smoothly into her path, tone respectful but immovable. "The Oracle has asked that the newly bonded Luna refrain from contact with the Forsaken. It would not reflect well on the sanctity of your new position."

"She's my sister."

"She is Moon Forsaken." The attendant's voice hardened slightly. "Those are no longer compatible facts, my lady. I would advise you return to the ceremony before your absence is noted unfavorably."

"I don't care how it looks." Selene's voice cracked, ceremonial composure abandoning her entirely now. "I want thirty seconds. That's all I'm asking for."

"I'm afraid that's not possible tonight."

"Then when? Tomorrow? Next week? You've made it clear I'll never be permitted to speak with her again, however you dress up the timeline."

The attendant's expression didn't waver, though something in his posture suggested he'd been given very specific instructions about exactly this scenario.

"The Oracle's guidance exists to protect the sanctity of your new bond, my lady. I would encourage you to trust her wisdom."

Selene's eyes found Vaelith's across the widening distance, tears streaking freely down her face now, unconcerned with ceremonial paint or dignity.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, the words barely forming, drowned beneath the attendant's firm hand now guiding her back toward the torchlit courtyard.

"Selene—" Vaelith started forward instinctively, only for the guards to seize her arms again, hauling her firmly back.

"The banishment is not yet complete," the attendant said, unbothered by the interruption. "Any further contact with bonded nobility only extends the process. I'd suggest cooperation, for your own sake."

Vaelith forced herself still, watching helplessly as Selene was ushered back into the ceremony, glancing over her shoulder once more before disappearing entirely into the crowd of silver robes and torchlight.

"You have until dawn to cross beyond House Ashmoor's territorial boundary," the attendant continued, consulting a small ledger as though reciting shipping instructions rather than ending someone's entire life. "Any Forsaken wolf found within ancestral lands past sunrise forfeits the mercy of simple exile and may be dealt with according to each house's individual discretion."

"Dealt with." Vaelith's voice had gone hollow. "You mean killed."

"I mean whatever consequence local law deems appropriate." The attendant's tone remained maddeningly neutral. "I would encourage you to move quickly, Vaelith Ashmoor. The forest paths grow considerably less hospitable after dark, and I doubt you'll find much sympathy waiting along the way."

"Which path am I meant to take? Someone might have thought to tell me that much, at least."

"The eastern crossing, past the old mill." He gestured vaguely toward the treeline without looking up from his ledger. "It's the most direct route beyond the boundary. I'd suggest keeping to it rather than wandering."

"How generous of you to point me toward the fastest way out of my own home."

He didn't respond to that, simply closing his ledger and gesturing for the remaining guards to withdraw. But something in the way he'd spoken the words, the eastern crossing, past the old mill, settled strangely in her chest, too specific, too immediate, as though the path had been chosen for her long before tonight rather than decided on the spot.

They released her fully then, turning back toward the ceremony's continuing glow without a backward glance, leaving her alone at the edge of the territorial boundary with nothing but the clothes on her back and a night sky indifferent to everything that had just been done to her.

Vaelith stood frozen for a long moment, the adrenaline of the ceremony finally draining away, leaving something colder and more exhausting in its place. Grief. Disbelief. The particular, hollow ache of understanding that every relationship she'd built over twenty-three years had just been tested, and nearly every single one had failed.

She started walking before she'd fully decided to, boots crunching against frost-covered ground, putting distance between herself and the torchlight glow of a ceremony that had ended her old life while barely pausing to acknowledge it.

The forest path ahead was dark, unfamiliar in the way that even familiar places become strange once you understand you're no longer welcome to return.

She'd walked perhaps two miles when she first heard it, voices, low and murmuring, gathered somewhere ahead along the border path she'd been directed toward. Vaelith slowed, some old instinct prickling at the back of her neck, the same feeling she'd learned as a child to trust before understanding why.

She crept closer, keeping to the shadows at the treeline, and found perhaps a dozen wolves gathered at the narrow crossing point marking House Ashmoor's territorial boundary, the exact path she'd been told to take before dawn.

They weren't waiting to see her off peacefully.

Torches. Weapons, some crude, some clearly deliberate. Faces set with the particular grim determination of people who'd convinced themselves violence tonight served some greater good.

"She'll bring misfortune on the whole border if she's allowed through untouched," one voice carried clearly through the cold night air. "My grandmother always said a Forsaken wolf carries the Goddess's curse until it's properly exorcised."

"Exorcised how?" another voice asked, uneasy.

"However's necessary. Better a few bruises tonight than a blighted harvest for the whole village next season."

Vaelith's stomach turned, disbelief and fear tangling together as she registered exactly what "exorcised" was likely to mean in the mouths of frightened, superstitious wolves working themselves into a mob.

A colder thought followed close behind the fear. This was the only path she'd been directed toward. The only crossing named. And somehow, a dozen armed wolves already stood waiting there, hours before dawn, as though they'd known exactly where to gather and exactly who to wait for.

"Word travels fast in a kingdom that wants to believe it," she whispered to herself, backing slowly away from the gathering crowd, heart hammering against her ribs. "Too fast, maybe. Almost like someone wanted them here before I ever arrived."

A twig snapped beneath her heel.

Every head at the crossing point turned at once, torchlight catching the sudden, terrible focus in a dozen pairs of eyes locking onto the shadows where she stood.

"There," someone shouted. "The Forsaken's trying to sneak through instead of taking her judgment properly!"

The mob surged forward as one, torches bobbing through the darkness like a wave of fire rushing toward her, and Vaelith understood, with sudden and absolute clarity, that dawn was going to arrive considerably sooner than she had.