The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91 – Something Unexpected

Nevara

Michelle had laid out seven dresses.

Seven.

Each in its own garment bag, each carefully steamed, labeled, and hung on a gilded rack in the middle of the sunroom. She stood beside it like a stylist awaiting judgment, arms folded, chin lifted.

“You’re not going to hurt my feelings,” she said. “Unless you say they’re all terrible, in which case I will burst into tears and never recover.”

I smirked. “Noted.”

We’d already finalized the menu, the music lineup, and the floral displays-which, somehow, Michelle had managed to make both ethereal and understated. The theme was set: twilight elegance, as she’d dubbed it. Everything leaned soft lavender, silver-gray, muted lilac. Not quite traditional, but not jarringly modern either.

All that was left to choose… was the dress.

Thoren had insisted he didn’t want to see it beforehand, which felt both annoyingly romantic and ridiculously outdated. But fine. He’d earned a little tradition after everything.

Michelle unzipped the first bag. “Classic silhouette. Ivory. A little too safe, in my opinion, but it’s here if you want it.”

I studied it. Simple lace sleeves. Plunging neckline. Fitted waist.

Beautiful. But it didn’t make me feel anything.

Dress two: cream, off-the-shoulder, subtle shimmer. Pretty, but the neckline irritated me.

Dress three: a modern white slip with a dramatic slit. Sexy, but it felt like I was trying too hard.

Dress four; high-necked and regal. Gorgeous-if I wanted to cosplay a statue.

Dress five; another ivory number, Safe. Predictable. I sighed.

I stepped behind the divider to try on dress six. Michelle didn’t say anything, just handed it to me and waited.

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< Chapter 91- Something Unexpected

The moment the lavender fabric brushed my skin, I paused.

+25 Points

It was soft. Cool. Lighter than air. The fitted bodice curved without squeezing, and the skirt

moved like mist.

When I stepped in front of the mirror, something inside me pulled tight.

The dress didn’t make me look powerful.

It didn’t make me look royal.

It made me look like me.

Not the survivor. Not the fighter. Not the girl who almost died twice.

Just Nevara.

Michelle’s voice was quiet behind me. “Well?”

I turned. “This one.”

“No hesitation?”

“None.”

She nodded once, satisfied. “Lavender it is.”

“I thought brides weren’t supposed to wear color.”

Michelle shrugged. “You’re not most brides. Besides, it is just the engagement party.

A laugh slipped out of me, and it felt good. Really good.

I smoothed the lavender skirt again, the fabric cool under my palms. “Two more days,” I said quietly. “And then it all gets really… real.”

Michelle glanced up from her organizing. “It already is real.”

“You know what I mean,”

She grinned, “Do you want to know how many guests confirmed for the party?”

I raised a brow, “Should I be scared?”

“Probably,” she said brightly. “Last count was one hundred and twenty-seven.”

My jaw dropped. “I know, like, ten people. And most of them live in this castle.”

“Don’t forget your parents.”

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+25 Points

“Exactly. Ten and two. We could’ve had a backyard barbecue.”

Michelle gasped. “How dare you speak such blasphemy in the presence of floral centerpieces and floating lanterns.”

I stepped down, the hem of the dress trailing behind me in a soft hush. “My parents get in tomorrow night, right?”

Michelle perked up. “Yes. They confirmed their arrival about an hour ago. I’ve got a room prepped for them with a bottle of wine and a ridiculous number of cookies from that bakery your mom loves.”

I smiled. “She’s going to cry.”

“Perfect. I’ll have tissues on hand. Also, I put together a welcome basket. Soap, tea, socks, a handwritten note from you-”

I blinked. “From me?”

“Don’t worry, I forged your handwriting. It’s adorable.”

I gave her a dry look. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m efficient.”

I turned back to the mirror. My reflection still didn’t feel quite real. Like if I blinked too long, it would vanish and I’d be back under Tobias’s roof. Back in those damn white robes. Back pretending I was fine.

But I wasn’t there anymore.

This was mine.

The crown. The title. The dress. The life.

My fingers absently touched the ring on my hand.

Behind me, Michelle started organizing the other dresses back onto the rack. “You’ve come a long way, you know.”

“Have I?”

“You didn’t flinch once today.”

I smiled faintly. “I guess I’m healing.”

“You’re doing more than that. You’re becoming who you were always meant to be.”

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will son goia light from

the maintenance crew prepping the lanterns for the party.

“You think I’ll panic that night?” I asked.

Michelle paused. “No. I think you’ll shake a little, maybe. But I also think you’ll breathe through it, square your shoulders, and look like the storm that everyone already knows not to mess with.”

I huffed a laugh. “Flattery won’t get you a raise.”

“Wasn’t trying. You can’t afford me anyway.”

She disappeared behind the divider to pack everything up. I lingered near the window.

Something moved in the far distance. A shadow near the back gates.

I squinted, but whatever it was vanished behind a hedge.

I dismissed it. Probably a gardener. Or a grounds patrol.

Still, a tiny thread of tension curled in my stomach-there and gone. I shook it off.

My hand smoothed down the front of the lavender dress, fingers brushing the embroidery at the hip. It was subtle. Barely-there stitching in pale silver thread. But it shimmered faintly in the light, catching the eye for just a second.

Like a secret.

This wasn’t the kind of gown that demanded attention. It didn’t scream royalty or tradition.

It whispered revolution.

I imagined my mother’s face when she saw me in it. The way her eyes would go glassy, her hands fluttering to her chest. My father trying to hide how emotional he got. Failing. He always did.

They’d see me as more than just a daughter.

They’d see me as a woman who survived everything-and chose her future.

That, more than anything, made the decision easy.

Lavender it is.

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