The Beta’s Ugly Daughter

Chapter 20

The dress was perfect. So was the woman wearing it. And I hated myself for wanting to be her.

The fitting room hummed with quiet activity as three seamstresses worked around Mira, pinning and adjusting the intricate beadwork on her ceremonial gown. I sat in the corner, supposedly there to offer opinions on the alterations, but really just trying not to fall apart as I watched my cousin prepare to marry the man I loved.

The dress was breathtaking, ivory silk that caught the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows, with delicate silver embroidery that seemed to flow like water across the fabric. It fit Mira perfectly, accentuating her graceful figure and making her dark hair look like polished mahogany against the pale material. She looked every inch the Luna she was born to be.

"Turn slightly to the left, miss," one of the seamstresses instructed, and Mira shifted on the small platform, her movements fluid and natural even while being prodded and pinned.

I watched her study her reflection in the three-way mirror, her expression serene and composed. There was no nervousness in her posture, no fidgeting or uncertainty. She looked like a woman who'd accepted her fate with grace, who understood her role and was prepared to fulfill it. Everything I could never be.

A sharp pang of longing hit me as I imagined what it would feel like to stand on that platform myself. To be measured and fitted for a dress that would mark the beginning of my future instead of the end of my hopes. To see excitement in the mirror instead of resignation, to be preparing for a life with someone who'd chosen me instead of someone who'd been assigned to me.

"What do you think, Gail?" Mira asked, catching my eye in the mirror. "Too much beading on the sleeves?"

I forced myself to focus on the dress instead of my spiraling thoughts. "No, it's perfect. You look beautiful."

And she did. She looked like everything a mating ceremony should be, elegant, radiant, worthy of celebration. The sight of her made my chest ache with a mixture of love and envy I couldn't untangle.

"Could you give us a moment?" Mira asked the seamstresses, her voice polite but firm. "I'd like to speak with my cousin privately."

The women exchanged glances but nodded, setting down their pins and needles. "Of course, miss. We'll be just outside when you're ready to continue." When the door closed behind them, the fitting room fell into an intimate quiet. Mira turned on the platform to face me directly, her hands smoothing down the skirt of her dress.

"You've been watching me like you're at a funeral," she said gently. "What's wrong?"

Heat crawled up my neck. Had I been that obvious? "Nothing's wrong. You look stunning, Mira. Wyatt will be... he'll be amazed when he sees you."

"Will he?" She stepped down from the platform, moving closer to where I sat. "Or will he be thinking about someone else?"

My heart stopped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you and Wyatt." She settled into the chair across from me, her expression patient and understanding. "I've seen the way you look at each other. The way you've been looking at each other for weeks now."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The words came out too quickly, too defensive.

"Gail." Her voice was soft, but there was steel underneath. "I've known you my entire life. I know when you're hurting, and I know when you're lying. Right now, you're doing both."

I couldn't meet her eyes. "Even if what you're suggesting were true, it wouldn't matter. He's marrying you tomorrow."

"Because he has to, not because he wants to." She leaned forward, reaching for my hands. "Do you think I haven't noticed how distracted he's been? How he keeps asking about you when you're not around? How he looks at you like he's trying to solve a puzzle he can't figure out?"

My throat felt tight. "You're imagining things."

"Am I? Then why are you crying?" I touched my cheek, surprised to find it wet. When did I start crying?

"Gail," Mira said, her voice impossibly gentle. "I need you to listen to me. I never wanted this marriage. I've been dreading it since the contracts were signed when we were children."

"But you're perfect for each other-"

"No, we're not. We're compatible on paper, politically advantageous, good for the pack. But we're not in love, and we never will be." She squeezed my hands. "If I could choose anyone in the world to protect you, to make you happy, to see you the way you deserved to be seen, it would be Wyatt. And if he feels for you what I think he does, then maybe this whole situation isn't as hopeless as you believe."

I stared at her, shocked by the sincerity in her voice. "You would do that? Give up your marriage, your position as Luna, everything?"

"For you? In a heartbeat." Her smile was sad but real. "You're the only family who's ever loved me without condition, Gail. The only person who's ever made me feel like I mattered for who I am instead of what I represent. If choosing you over duty would make you happy, there's no contest."

The tears were coming harder now, and I couldn't stop them. "It doesn't matter what I want. Wyatt doesn't... he doesn't feel that way about me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." The word came out broken. "I'm sure." But even as I said it, I thought about the way he'd looked at me in the archives yesterday. The way he'd called me extraordinary, the confused intensity in his eyes that seemed to grow stronger every day.

"Gail." Mira's voice was firm now. "What aren't you telling me?" I wanted to confess everything. About the curse, about the blood moons, about the double life that was slowly killing me. But the words stuck in my throat, too big and too dangerous to speak aloud.

"Nothing," I whispered. "There's nothing to tell."

She studied my face for a long moment, and I could see her reading all the things I wasn't saying. Finally, she nodded.

"All right. But Gail? If there's even a chance, even the smallest possibility that he could choose you, don't let my dress fitting be the reason you don't try. I'd rather be alone than watch you sacrifice your happiness for mine." She stood and returned to the platform, smoothing her skirts as she prepared to call the seamstresses back. But before she could reach for the door, she looked at me one more time.

"You deserve love, Gail. Real love, not obligation or duty or settling for less than you want. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

The door opened, and the seamstresses filed back in, chattering about final adjustments and last-minute details. But I barely heard them over the sound of my own heartbeat, over Mira's words echoing in my head. You deserve love.

The ceremony is near. Wyatt would stand at the altar and pledge his life to my cousin unless I found the courage to stop it. The question was: did I believe I deserved love enough to fight for it?