My Pack Gave My Sister My Alpha, So I Chose His Enemy

For three years, my place at the Moon Celebration had been the same.

Right side of the Alpha heir. Third step up on the stone dais, close enough to hand Caleb the ceremonial cup, close enough to lean in and whisper which family had lost a grandmother that winter and which newly turned wolf was too nervous to speak.

So when I climbed those steps with my clipboard tucked under one arm and found my sister already sitting in my chair, I honestly thought someone had made a mistake.

Ivy looked up at me and smiled. She wore silver silk and a crown of white moonflowers, the ones I'd ordered from the greenhouse two weeks ago for the centerpieces.

"Elara! You're here."

"I'm always here." I glanced at the carved chair, then at her. "That's my seat, Ivy."

"Oh, honey." My mother appeared at my elbow before Ivy could answer, her hand light on my back, already steering me down one step. "Don't make a scene. Not tonight."

"I'm not making a scene. I'm asking why my sister is sitting where the Luna sits."

"Because everyone adores her right now." Mom lowered her voice, still smiling for the crowd filling the clearing below. "You saw her shift at the spring run. Half the pack is still talking about it. There's nothing wrong with letting her get a little more face time."

A little more face time. In the Luna's chair. At the one event where every family in Silverpine came to see who stood beside their future Alpha.

I looked past my mother, to him.

Caleb was adjusting the cuff of his dark jacket, broad shoulders relaxed, the torchlight catching the gold in his hair. He'd been my friend since we were pups. He'd been the boy who swore, at sixteen, that when he took the pack he wanted me beside him.

He met my eyes and didn't even look uncomfortable.

"Caleb," I said.

"El." He sighed, like I was the one being difficult. "It's only a seat."

For a second, the drums from the clearing were the only thing I could hear.

"Right," I said. "Only a seat."

Ivy tucked her hair behind her ear and patted the bench at the edge of the dais, the one meant for aides. "You can sit right here, next to me. It'll be like old times."

I didn't sit. I went down the steps and did my job.

The first hour, Ivy glowed. Families lined up to congratulate her, elders kissed her cheeks, and Caleb laughed at everything she said, his hand resting on the back of her chair. From the edge of the clearing, it looked perfect.

Then the Alder family arrived with their twin boys, and Ivy's smile froze.

She turned, scanning the crowd, and found me.

"Elara," she called, too brightly. "Which one of them is shifting tonight?"

"Neither," I said, walking back up just long enough to be heard. "Their older sister is. She's the one in green. Her father's recovering from a broken leg, so don't ask him to stand for the blessing."

"Right. Of course." She beamed at the Alders like she'd known all along.

It kept happening. Which elder led the first howl. Where the pups under ten were supposed to wait so they didn't get trampled. Whether the silver bowls went out before or after the oath. Every time, Ivy's head swiveled toward me, and every time, Caleb waited for me to fix it without once asking me to sit down.

By the time the moon cleared the pines, I'd stopped climbing the steps at all.

That was when I noticed the woman at the tree line.

She was young, maybe my age, clutching a little girl against her hip. Omega, from the way she kept her eyes down and her shoulders small. The child was shaking hard enough that I could see it from twenty feet away.

"Hi," I said softly, crouching so I wasn't looming. "First Moon Celebration?"

The mother nodded fast. "We transferred from Redcliff last month. I'm sorry, she's never been around this many wolves, and she's close to her first shift, and I think the drums..." Her voice cracked. "I don't know how to calm her down."

The girl's fingernails had started to darken at the tips. Her pupils were blown wide.

"What's her name?"

"Poppy."

"Hey, Poppy." I kept my voice low and even. "I'm Elara. Your wolf's just curious right now. She hears all the other wolves and wants to say hello. That's not scary. That's just loud."

Poppy peeked at me over her mother's shoulder.

"Want to know a secret? When I was your age, I hid under the food table during my first Moon Celebration. My dad had to bribe me out with honey cake." I pointed toward the quiet grove behind the healers' tent. "There's a spot back there where the drums sound far away. You can still see the moon. Want to go look?"

It took ten minutes of slow breathing, one honey cake, and her mother's hand in her hair, but the shaking stopped. Poppy's nails turned pink again. She fell asleep against her mother's chest while the pack howled in the distance.

"Thank you," the mother whispered, eyes wet. "Nobody else even looked at us."

I stayed with them until the ceremony ended.

I didn't go back to Caleb.

He found me near midnight, when the torches were burning low and the cleanup crews were stacking chairs. I was counting silver bowls into a crate because nobody else had.

"There you are." He stopped beside me, hands in his pockets. "You disappeared."

"I was working."

"You were sulking." He said it gently, almost fondly, which made it worse. "Come on, El. I know tonight stung. But you're making this bigger than it is."

I set a bowl down harder than I meant to. "Am I?"

"Ivy's good with people. You saw them tonight. They love her." He shrugged. "So we let her handle the public side. The ceremonies, the speeches. And you keep doing what you're actually good at. The families, the scheduling, the real stuff. You two balance each other out. It's the best setup for the pack."

I straightened slowly and looked at him. Really looked, the way I hadn't let myself in a long time.

"So she gets to be Luna," I said, "and I get to do the Luna's work?"

Caleb opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

The silence stretched long enough that I heard a crew member laughing across the clearing, heard the pop of a dying torch, heard my own pulse slowing into something cold and clear.

He didn't say no. That was the answer.

"Caleb!" Ivy's voice floated toward us, light and sweet. She crossed the grass in her silver dress, moonflowers wilting in her hair, and slid her arm through his like it had always belonged there. "Mom wants a picture of us before everyone leaves. Elara, you don't mind, right?"

Three years of habit told me what to do. Step back. Smile. Make room.

I didn't move.

Caleb looked at me, and something uncertain flickered across his face, like he was finally waiting for me to say something he wouldn't like.

I didn't give him anything.

I turned around and walked away, leaving the crate of silver bowls, the dais, and the two of them standing arm in arm in the moonlight.

Behind me, Caleb said my name once.

I didn't stop.