Chapter 80: Wedding Invitations

The first argument Rowan and I had about our wedding involved invitations. Not vows. Not territory. Not whether I would become Supreme Luna. Paper. Specifically, a stack of cream-colored invitation samples spread across my desk while Tessa and Rhea argued over fonts. "This one looks royal," Tessa said. "I don't want royal." Rhea held up another. "This one looks archival." "That is not a compliment." Rowan walked in carrying a Council folder. He stopped when he saw the table. "Should I leave?" "Yes," three of us said. He stayed anyway.

Our original plan had been simple: ceremony beneath the Lunaris cedar, public Pack attendance, then a smaller dinner. Then the guest list reached three hundred. Rowan's family had branches across half the continent. Lunaris wolves considered my wedding a Pack event. Nightvale wanted representation. Stormridge wanted representation. Silvercrest wanted representation. Redwood sent a beautifully worded request explaining that all three members of its stewardship council technically counted as diplomatic guests. "Absolutely not," I said. Rowan looked at the list. "Which part?" "All of it." "We can't uninvite Packs." "We haven't invited them yet." "Excellent point." Rhea smiled. "Diplomatic incident before marriage. Historic." I threw a ribbon at her.

The real problem wasn't numbers. It was symbolism. Every decision would be interpreted politically. If I invited Petra Lane but not Knox, people would call it a statement. If Elodie came, gossip accounts would revive the old triangle. If Rowan's grandmother sat near the front, traditionalists would claim I was accepting Supreme Luna succession. If she sat too far back, they'd call it an insult. I put my forehead on the desk. "I want to elope." Rowan immediately said, "Airport?" I looked up. He was smiling. "Don't tempt me." For five beautiful seconds, I imagined it. No Council. No reporters. No seating chart. Just Rowan, me, and someone legally authorized to perform the ceremony. Then I remembered Lunaris. The Pack had rebuilt beside me. They deserved to witness the moment if I wanted them there. And I did. I simply didn't want the spectacle.

So we created rules. No political invitations by title alone. People came because one of us personally wanted them there. Pack delegations could attend the public ceremony but not automatically the dinner. No press inside the cedar grounds. No branded sponsorships. No ceremonial gift worth more than a fixed limit. That last rule caused outrage. Apparently Alpha weddings traditionally involved absurd gifts. One Pack had planned to give us two racehorses. "What would we do with racehorses?" I asked. Rowan shrugged. "Race?" "No." Another planned to gift a vineyard. I stared at the message. "Can people stop giving us land?" "We do have a history of acquiring territory." "Rowan." He laughed.

Knox received an invitation. I wrote it myself. Not because of our history. Because he had become part of Lunaris's recent one. He replied within four minutes. Will Elodie be there? I sent back: Ask her yourself. Coward. He replied: Cruel. Elodie had already accepted. Petra too. Maeve from Redwood. Evelyn and Theo. Eli and his mother. Mira declined the public ceremony but asked whether she could visit privately afterward. Of course. Celine received no invitation because Rhea said someone had to stay near the archive and prevent another crown theft. Celine sent me an angry message. I suspected Rhea had invented the duty. I allowed it.

Then came the hardest invitation. Helena March's daughter was dead. Felix and Helena Voss had no place anywhere near us. Malcolm Reed certainly didn't. But Adrian asked whether I wanted to invite several elderly wolves who had once served the old Supreme Luna office. My first instinct was no. Then I reconsidered. They were not the institution. Some had spent decades doing refugee work, education, and diplomacy. I invited Lady Celeste's former staff as individuals. One replied with a handwritten letter. Thank you for allowing old women to attend without asking us to defend the old world. I read it twice. That was exactly what I wanted. History could attend without controlling the ceremony.

The invitation design eventually became simple. Cream paper. Small silver moon at the top. Lunaris cedar embossed beneath it. No crowns. No Alpha crests. The wording read: Nessa Arden and Rowan Vale invite you to witness the promises they freely choose to make beneath the cedar of Lunaris. Rhea objected. "Too modern." "Good." "Future archivists will judge you." "They can file a complaint." Rowan read the final version and smiled. "Freely choose." "Important." "Very." He kissed my temple. Tessa made a disgusted sound. "Can you wait until after I finish addressing envelopes?" "No," Rowan said. I laughed.

That night, after everyone left, I sat alone with one spare invitation. My name beside Rowan's. Not Nessa Vale. Not Supreme Luna. Nessa Arden. I had decided to keep my name. Rowan had never questioned it. The simplicity of that still moved me. Once, I had changed my body because I thought love required becoming someone easier to accept. Now I was entering marriage without surrendering my Pack, my title, my name, or my work. I wasn't refusing closeness. I was refusing disappearance. I slipped the spare invitation into my private journal. Someday, maybe decades from now, I wanted to remember that before the vows, before the ceremony, before all the noise, we had written the most important part directly onto the paper. Freely choose.

The next morning, we mailed the first invitations ourselves. I liked the physical act of placing each envelope into the box. No algorithm, no Pack announcement, no ceremonial decree. Just names we had chosen. Rowan tried to sneak Orion's invitation into a separate envelope marked BEHAVE. I let him. Marriage planning was still political, but moments like that kept it human.