One morning, as Veer’s father stood on a ridge overlooking the training ground, he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

He didn’t turn. He knew that gait.

"You’ve been watching for three days now," Veer’s older brother said quietly, coming to stand beside him.

"I’m keeping an eye on my tribe," Veer’s father replied stiffly.

His son—his eldest, the one who’d always tried to be the peacemaker—let out a soft hum of acknowledgment. They stood in silence for a moment, watching Kaya correct a warrior’s stance with a sharp tap of her stick.

"She’s good," Veer’s brother said finally.

"She’s dangerous," his father corrected.

"She’s both," his son agreed. "But dangerous doesn’t always mean bad."

Veer’s father’s jaw tightened. "She’s turning them against me."

"No," his brother said calmly. "She’s making them respect something other than bloodline and tradition. That’s not turning them against you. That’s just... different."

"Different," his father repeated bitterly. "Everything’s ’different’ now. My own son choosing an outsider over his family. My warriors listening to a woman with no beast blood."

"They listen because she gets results," his brother said. He gestured toward the training ground. "Look at them, Dad. Really look. When’s the last time you saw them train like this? Move like this?"

Veer’s father didn’t answer. Because the truth was painful.

Never.

His brother sighed. "You hate her. I get it. But hating her won’t change what she’s done. And if you keep fighting Veer on this, you’ll lose him completely."

"He’s already lost," his father muttered.

"No," his brother said firmly. "He’s just found something you didn’t plan for. And instead of adapting, you’re digging your heels in." He paused. "That’s not strength, Dad. That’s stubbornness."

Veer’s father finally turned to look at his eldest son, eyes hard. "So you side with him too?"

"I side with the tribe," his brother said simply. "And right now? She’s making the tribe stronger. Whether you like it or not."

They stood in tense silence, the sounds of training echoing below—commands, footsteps, the crack of wood on dirt.

"The council won’t accept her," Veer’s father said quietly.

"Then maybe the council needs to change too," his brother replied.

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Veer’s father alone on the ridge, staring down at the woman who’d somehow turned his entire world upside down.

Below, Kaya barked another order, and the warriors obeyed instantly, moving as one.

And despite everything—despite his rage, his pride, his hatred—Veer’s father couldn’t deny one simple truth:

She was making them better.

The wedding day arrived on schedule.

Veer’s father stood at the back of the gathering area, arms crossed, face set in a deep scowl. But he didn’t object. Didn’t storm off. Didn’t drag elders forward to stop it. He just stood there, silent and unhappy, which was about as close to approval as anyone was going to get.

The ceremony itself was simple—bowing to each other, exchanging vows, a kiss. Almost like a Christian wedding back home. Nothing elaborate. Nothing that required Kaya to perform rituals she didn’t understand or follow traditions that made no sense to her.

For that, she was grateful.

Other females might have been ecstatic on their wedding day—spinning in fancy dresses, laughing with friends, dancing under the sun. But Kaya just wore her dress like she wore everything else: with calm practicality. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

This wasn’t her first marriage, after all. So it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But what ’did’ surprise her was the scale of it.

When Kaya reached the ceremony site—a large, flat area on the mountainside—she stopped short, genuinely shocked.

She’d known it would be outdoors. She’d expected something simple, maybe a few flowers scattered around. But this?

The entire area was covered in flowers. Not just white or red or one coordinated color scheme like those sterile, expensive weddings she’d seen in magazines. No, these were mixed—wildflowers in every shade imaginable, woven into garlands, draped over wooden arches, scattered across the ground like a living carpet.

Blues, yellows, purples, pinks, reds, whites—all blending together in chaotic, beautiful harmony.

And to tell the truth, Kaya felt something warm settle in her chest.

She’d always thought those perfectly curated weddings with their strict color palettes looked fake. Staged. But this? This looked alive. Real. Like spring itself had come to witness the ceremony.

What shocked her even more was the crowd.

Rows of wooden chairs had been set up—actual chairs, carefully carved and arranged in neat lines, just like a church wedding. And every single one was filled.

The entire vulture tribe had shown up. Maybe a hundred people. Maybe two hundred. Kaya couldn’t count them all. But they were there—young warriors she’d trained, elders who still hated her, families who’d watched from a distance, children perched on their parents’ shoulders to see.

Even the ones who’d tried to kill her were sitting quietly in the back rows.

Kaya walked forward slowly, her long cotton dress brushing against the flower-covered ground.

She’d told Veer to keep it simple. Cotton. Nothing expensive. She didn’t want to waste resources on something she’d wear once.

But Veer—and apparently half the female population of the tribe—had other ideas.

The white cotton dress had been hand-painted with delicate flower designs, each petal carefully drawn in soft pinks, yellows, and greens. The whole gown looked like a meadow in bloom, like spring had been sewn into the fabric itself. It wasn’t pure white anymore, but it wasn’t garish either. It was something in between—soft, natural, beautiful in a way Kaya hadn’t expected.

Instead of a veil, fresh flowers had been woven into her hair, small blossoms tucked behind her ears and threaded through the strands.

Instead of jewelry—necklaces, bracelets, rings—more flowers adorned her wrists and were tied into delicate bracelets.

She looked like she’d walked out of a painting.

And she hated that she didn’t hate it.

When Kaya reached the altar—a simple wooden platform decorated with more flowers—she finally saw Veer.

And she stopped breathing for half a second.

She hadn’t seen his outfit before. He’d been secretive about it, telling her to wait, to be patient, to trust him.

And now she understood why.

He was wearing a tux. An actual, proper wedding tux made entirely from cotton. White jacket. Pink shirt underneath. The colors shouldn’t have worked together, but somehow they did—soft and striking at the same time.

And his hair.

Kaya stared.

Veer’s normally messy hair had been styled back, smooth and neat, every strand perfectly in place. She didn’t know how he’d done it—there was no gel in this world, no hair products she recognized—but somehow it looked polished. Professional. Devastating.

If this were modern times, Kaya thought distantly, Veer would already be breaking hearts left and right. Women would be lining up. And his wedding would probably cause a city-wide mourning period.

He turned when she approached, and his entire face lit up—a smile so genuine, so unguarded, that Kaya felt something twist uncomfortably in her chest.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly.

Kaya raised an eyebrow. "You look like you raided a magazine."

Veer grinned wider. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

The officiant—one of the neutral elders who hadn’t tried to murder her—stepped forward and began the ceremony.