SERIS’s eyes darted into the door when it opened again. But this time, it was not Cassian but a young woman with soft eyes and light brown curls tied into a neat braid. She wore simple clothes and moved with the grace of someone raised among wolves.
The woman gave her a gentle nod as if she were careful not to make sudden movements.
“Hi. I’m Isla,” the young woman introduced herself. “I’m here to help you get ready.”
Seris stood by the bed, still barefoot and still guarded. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t resist either.
Isla walked to a nearby armoire closet and opened it—Seris saw the dresses inside.
Then Isla pulled out a soft dress in muted gray-blue.
For Seris, the dress was comfortable, flowing, and not meant to constrict.
“Alpha Cassian thought you might be hungry,” Isla
