The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 116

Michelle was halfway into a midnight–blue gown when I saw it–the one I hadn’t known I was looking for.

She stood in front of the mirror, examining the plunging neckline like it owed her money, one leg cocked through the high slit with confidence only born from bloodline and battle training. “Thoughts?” she asked,

posing like the cover of a fashion magazine run by assassins.

“I mean, if the goal is to make every man at the wedding weep and confess their sins–nailed it.”

She grinned. “Here’s to hoping I could turn gay men into bisexuals.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how that works.” I stated flatly.

Mom chuckled softly from her seat near the fitting room. The dress she was trying had a soft rose gold

hue and elegant off–the–shoulder sleeves–classic, refined, and perfect for her. She offered no sass, just a

warm, approving glance. “You look beautiful, Michelle.”

I drifted toward the back rack, fingers idly brushing fabric, until a soft sage green caught my eye.

It was quiet. Understated. But graceful.

Sleeveless with delicate lace edging the neckline. A flowing skirt that would flutter like leaves in wind. No

heavy sparkle. No corset. Just simple elegance.

I pulled it out carefully, heart beating faster than it should.

“This one,” I murmured.

Michelle turned, mid–twirl. “For?”

I shook my head. “For Sabrina.”

Michelle blinked. “That was fast.”

“She deserves to feel seen.” I traced the lace with my thumb. “When I was beought here, Sabrina didn’t

care that I was a political liability or a stranger. She was kind. Gentle. Loyal.”

“So it’s official, you’ll ask her to stand with you?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. I want her to feel seen.” I looked up. “I want her to walk into the ceremony and have no doubt that she belongs up there with me. Not behind me. Not beside. With.”

Mom stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. “That color will look beautiful on her.”

I smiled. “It’s the exact shade her eyes turn when she’s trying not to cry.”

Michelle tilted her head. “That’s oddly specific.”

“She’s done it a lot,” I said quietly.

8 Chapter 116–One for the Sister | Chose

For a moment, no one spoke.

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Then Michelle cleared her throat. “Alright. Grab it. We’ll get it tailored. She’ll need shoes and jewelry. We’ll handle that next.”

“And I’ll ask her tonight,” I added. “Not as a favor. As a request.”

“A request from a queen,” mom said softly.

I glanced at her. “From a friend.”

She smiled.

Michelle handed the midnight–blue gown off to the stylist and reached for the black one she’d tried on earlier. “I’ll go with this instead,” she said, her voice light but sure. “Clean lines, no thigh slits, no plunging neckline. Still elegant. Still me.”

I raised a brow. “Really? After the way you looked in that blue one? I thought it was calling to you like it owed you money.”

She smirked. “It was. But this isn’t my wedding. And I’m not trying to have all eyes on me.”

I nodded toward the blue gown. “Still, you should get it. You could wear it to a banquet. Or a gala. Or some high–society thing where everyone’s pretending they don’t have blood on their hands.”

Michelle glanced back at it, thoughtful. “You know what? You’re right. It deserves a night out. Just not this

one.”

She gave a nod to the stylist, who set both gowns aside to be packed.

We made our way to the accessories section. Racks of heels, velvet flats, and satin pumps lined the back

wall beneath crystal chandeliers. Jewelry glittered like bait on velvet displays, but it was the shoes we

hunted first.

Michelle made a beeline for stilettos that looked like murder weapons. She picked up a black suede pair

with gold–tipped heels and a delicate strap that would definitely leave bruises–intentional or not.

“Those look like they came with a warning label,” I said.

She turned them in her hands. “Good. I like my fashion like I like my politics–dangerous and sharp.”

Mom chose something more graceful. Pale silver with a low heel and subtle shimmer, perfect for dancing but still dignified.

“These feel like me,” she said softly.

I nodded. “They are.”

While they checked sizes, I wandered back toward the sage green dress, hunting for the perfect shoes to

match.

I found them tucked low on the display wall–delicate flats in soft ivory satin, embroidered at the toe with

s Chapter 116–One for the Sister I Chose

tiny green and gold vines. No heel. No flash. Just beauty in the quietest form.

I held them up to the dress, and my chest tugged.

“Sabrina,” I murmured.

Michelle came up behind me and whistled. “Good eye. You’ve got the full look now.”

“Just needs a small pair of earrings,” I said. “Something she’ll keep.”

“Let’s find them,” she said, and for once, her voice had no edge–just purpose.

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We brought our finds to the register and watched the staff pack each item into tissue and ribbon. As we

waited, I glanced toward my mother, who was quietly watching me–not the mirror, not the stylists. Me.

I lifted the sage green dress slightly. “I’ll give it to her tonight.”

She nodded. “She’s going to cry.”

I smiled. “I hope she does.”

By the time we finished, the boutique staff was wrapping the final boxes in crisp ivory ribbon. Michelle signed off on the charges with a graceful flick of her wrist, and mom mygrabbed the handles like they weighed nothing. I took the sage green box for Sabrina myself. It felt…right. Like it should come from my

hands.

“Ready?” Michelle asked as we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

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