I haven't seen Kyran at all since my "little" episode yesterday. He hasn't even come home to retrieve all his collectibles. Maybe Eileene is the person I've suspected her to be from the first day I met her. But who am I to know? 

"Betrys." 

I turn around in the spinning office chair to see Sabia staring down at me as I'm staring glumly at the television. "You're supposed to be getting ready for your Matching Ceremony." 

"I know," I say. My voice is glum and apathetic. The exact cloud of emotions is raining over me. "But can't I just skip it? Do it next year?" 

"Not if you don't wanna end up Matchless." 

Sabia wears a smirk. As she goes on, I give her the benefit of my shame as I look down at my combat boots. "And I remember the last thing your mother told me. She made me promise that I would never let you become Matchless." 

"So you're forcing me to attend?"

 I stretch out across the chair, my muscles pulling and turning tight and tense. 

"Damn right I am!" 

My teeth clench together, and I turn the chair away from her face so a low growl can consume my throat. I hear her sigh and continue. 

"But that doesn't mean I can't sympathize with your position. I was just like you on the day of my Matching Ceremony." 

"As you know, your parents and I were close when we were young. But in high school, we fell apart. I had no one. At least that's what I've told you for years. But the truth is, in high school, I turned to Kerwin Elderton in my times of need. I fell in love with him, and as luck would have it, we were Matched."

I watch her close her eyes. I imagine myself in her position, trying to recall lost memories. Memories she buried for a long time, I realize.

"We got married."

Her words swarm my brain like fireworks. This story leaves me without any words. My jaw just drops to the ground. I notice how her chest heaves with every word she sings. I can sense her fighting back hot tears that appear in her eyelids. 

"For a moment, everything seemed to be the perfect fairytale ending. Then Kerwin was diagnosed with cancer. He lived a good twenty years; he met his deathbed with no regrets. I can't say it doesn't hurt, even after all of these years. We had plans to make a family of our own. But fate had a different plan: you and Kyran." 

"The point is?" 

When asking my question, I notice how Sabia's face is squished together, tight so I can't see her eyes and the sweat that rains down her cheeks. After a few heavy breaths, she releases her tension and meets my restless gaze. 

"The point is, when I was your age, I lost everything. I was ready to give up and become Matchless. But I didn't. I squeezed myself into a big, poofy ball gown and marched right to the ceremony. Sure I lost my soulmate, but it was written in the stars that you became my family instead, and I wouldn't change that for anything." 

"How can he be your soulmate?" I groan. 

I resume my spinning once again. In the blur of the living room panels, I see Sabia wiping away a few tears in the sleeve of her blouse. When I finally compose my statement, I halt in front of her. Some flame ignites inside of me. It carries an idea that I know shouldn't be wracking inside of someone supposed to meet their soulmate in a few hours. It's wrong, but it spits out of my tongue before I can think it through.

"How can you love someone that you're forced to have affection for?" 

A gleam twinkles in Sabia's eyes. She begins and becomes the sound of a herald angel. I fall victim to her words, hypnotized by her the way she sings her soliloquies. Her words are arrows that know the right place to touch me in the emotions.

"That's the beauty of the system. The system guarantees that your Match is someone you can love. The system has never created a loveless relationship. So, now will you go?"

"Yes, Sabia." I acquiesce. "I will go to the Matching Ceremony."

 "Okay," Sabia says with a warm smile, "I'll be right back. I have a surprise for you." 

Sabia leaves the room, and I go back to spinning the office chair around in circles as the television plays an old black-and-white TV show on the screen. All I want right now is some peace and quiet.

Somehow the music inside my head is so loud, it gives me a beat, and I'm on my feet. My hips move from side to side with the swaying of my long arms. I'm so close to being a ballerina. I'm delicate on my tippy toes; my soft movements are in sync with the mellow beats in the song I can't forget - the song played at the reception last night before Single Ladies played and I caught the bride's bouquet. Of course, Kyran glared. Still, it was something.

I usually keep my dancing to the stereo in the basement, but today, I can make an exception. A few kicks, and drags along the wooden floor panels, and I'm on a roll. But every dancer has its limits. When I try to do a three-sixty spin, I find myself collapsing onto the floor butt-first. I forgot that I'm the complete opposite of graceful - that's Keanna.

I'm back on my feet, dusting the dust off my tank top when Sabia returns with an old pink ball gown made from silk fabrics. I gasp, rising from the seat. I rush over to touch its soft texture. How does she even have this dress? From the pictures put up in the kitchen, this is the dress my mother wore to her Matching Ceremony.  A smile lights up on not just Sabia's face, but mine too. 

"Aya would want you to wear this today," she says.

Somehow, Sabia has managed to preserve something precious of my parents from their past and pass it on to me. This is the best thing she has ever done for me. It's time like these that I realize how much I love Sabia and how look I am to have her in my life. 

"Thank you." The words leave my lips softly as I bring Sabia in for a long hug. Her thin fingers caress the back of my neck. 

I pull the dress over my head, struggling to fit through the puffed sleeves. I remember when I was really young. Sabia used to help me get dressed when I couldn't seem to get it over my head. She always pulled the rest of the dress with the sound of my girlish squeal. So I let out a shrill squeal, flailing my arms. 

Sabia sighs and tugs on the bottom of the dress, pulling the rest of the gown over my head until it's rest snuggly on top of my body. I get my hands on the compact mirror and shake it in the grasp of my palms. I see my short textured hair.

Although it may not be a problem for most female wolves, I'm just the one exception of a wolf who has to cut her hair short for the sake of my fur. In my first weeks as of werewolf, I went through a phase of constantly scratching myself because my fur was so damn thick it irritated my flesh. I ended up with rashes, so Sabia ended chopping off my locks and styling it into a pageboy cut. 

Sabia says it genetic. My mother seemed to undergo the same problem. She grew her hair until her ninth birthday as I saw in the pictures, but then after her transformation, she cut it short in a pageboy cut like mine. 

"You're so gorgeous, my dear," Sabia tells me, clasping my wolf necklace around my neck. The pendant falls right onto my chest with a dangling chime. "Any boy will be lucky enough to be Matched to you." 

All of a sudden, the door busts open. Kyran comes rushing in. I rush over to him with a squeal and jump into his arms as he lets an endless series of laughter. He lowers me to the ground as he spins me around in several circles. In the doorway of the living room, Sabia watches with a smile that has bliss in the glow from her lip gloss. 

"There's my sister, preparing for her Matching ceremony," Kyran says. His smile can light a gazillion candles. His words can soar as high as the stars and twinkle just as bright. 

"Kyran," I say, pulling away. "You're here." 

My brother goes over to Sabia; the two share a short embrace. Her words are short, and to the point, not insightful like earlier. "Kyran. What brings you here?" 

"Well, a sister shouldn't be devoid of the benefit of having her older brother around before the ceremony." He casts a smile over his shoulder at me and winks. "Now, I have something to do." 

He pulls out his copy of The Way of the Wolf and leads me into the living room where we sit down on the couch next to each other. Just like the old days. The days before my transformation.  

He turns to my favorite page of the book. The page Kyran and I call the page. This entry has a connection between us, and we both have the same reactions whenever we read it together. It's meant as if it was written for us. 

"Remember this?" Kyran asks me with a secret smile. I smirk at him, nuzzling up against his arm as we read the page together on the couch. Just like we used to do every night before we went to bed. This truly is the page.

"'It is our duty to ensure the euphoria of each and every one of the fellow mates.'" Kyran and I look at each other as we speak the words at the same time. "'It is our right to ensure a successful union between the mates. Given reason, we have come to a conclusion that it is best if we are to pair fellow clan members, peers rather said, together based on interests, values, aptitude, and skills via an evaluation in their seventeenth - or upon a wolf's seventeenth - year. Held on the fifteenth of every December, we are to perform a sacred ceremony that presents each seventeen-year-old member of the clan to their match." 

Kyran looks at me softly. The old him is back. I guess Eileene and the marriage haven't changed anything. It's only put it back to where I want it. How it used to be. And sometimes, I just can't release a moment like this. 

"I know I haven't been there for you as much as I could've since Eileene came into my life." 

"Yeah," I say, biting my lower lip. "I've missed you lately."

"But what I want to say is,  you're gonna love whoever your Match is, honest to the heavens, more than your own life. But it's worth it. No matter how many arguments you have, or times, where you cry yourself to sleep because being Matched, can sometimes feel like a literal hell. But no matter what, your Match, regardless of who they are, is always worth the pain ... and even more."

I get up from the couch, looking at him weirdly. Since when does Kyran ever want to talk to me about the Matching Ceremony? This is the first time he's even brought it up this month, to be honest. "I know, Ky." 

I'm about to leave to the ceremonial lighting of the Matching candle when I feel Kyran pull me around by both by of my shoulder, and he put his mouth to my ear. He's tall for a werewolf. At a tall stature of six foot five, he's above the height of an average lycanthrope in our clan. 

"I'm so proud of you." With his whisper, I try not cringe as his fingernails dig into my shoulders. He knows I don't exactly have a fond appreciation of finger digging into my shoulders. It's just gross. 

"Thank you," I manage to whisper back. I imagine what our lives will be like once tonight is over. We'll both be two entirely different people at the end than we'll be when we walk into the Main Clearing. 

He releases and heads to the door looking back at me as he comes to the doorjamb. "I'll see you at the ceremony."

Before he leaves, I call out, "Kyran, please stay." 

Kyran peers back through the doorway. The gleam in his eyes makes me smile. "Huh?" 

"Stay." I glance down at where my feet should be. Instead, the pink fabric takes over. I peer back up at my brother, chuckling. "At least for the lighting of the candle. Please." 

Kyran returns into the living room. He nods his head and my face lights with a smile. I feel like doing a small jig, but soon enough, Sabia's voice calls from the kitchen. I drag my brother into the kitchen behind me. 

The curtains in the kitchen are pulled to the ends of the counter to make the room dark. The only light in the chamber is the candelabra in the center of the table. I catch a glimpse of Sabia's face behind a small flame from the match in between two fingers as she lights the pillar candles in the wreath surrounding the candelabra. When all eight candles on the wreath are lit, it gives a glow over the rosary on the table. According to our tradition, Sabia begins this ceremony with the history of the candle.

"In the sixteenth century, our ancestors came to Mexico after the Spaniards defeated the mighty Aztec Empire. On our first night in this new land, the first of us to set foot on the soil lit a candle. Then he prayed for protection and good health to visit him and his people in the future."

"We lived in what became the state of Tamaulipas until eighteen-twenty when the villagers blamed us on an inferno, and we were forced to flee to Chihuahua." Every story is nothing compared to the tales Sabia talks about. "As we did on our first night in Mexico, we lit a candle the first time we slept in Chihuahua. From there on out, it has become mores to light a candle on special occasions." 

"And so on the momentous occasion. we shall join in prayer as we ask God for protection and good health." 

We surround the table and hold hands. I feel the warmth of Sabia's grip on one side, and Kyran's on the other. In Spanish, we pray. We start with the Lord's Prayer and follow into a Hail Mary, and then Sabia's voice returns to English. "Lord, on this day, we ask that protect and good health come to our newest Match, Betrys. May you guide her through the path of right and wrong, and towards a life of fulfillment. Amen!"

I touch my forehead, then my heart, then each shoulder. Sabia has the lights turned back on betimes my eyes are once again open. Her back is to the counter, her hands grasping the ledge. Kyran lets go of his grip on my hand and does the same. My eyes go wide. 

"No. No, no, no, no. No!" 

They're unable to hear me begging. Large smiles are plastered on their faces. With Sabia and Kyran side by side, it's not hard to notice the slightest resemblance even with the little blood they share. 

They don't hear a word I say because one second later, they begin the Spanish version of 'Happy Birthday.' When I'm asked how old I am, I respond in Spanish as well. When the singing ends, Sabia lugs a cake over to the table. 

The rosette swirls outline the orthogonal velvet cake. In each corner, there are small white roses. I cut myself a slice and put it on one of Sabia's antique plates - a small crack from a fight my great-great-great-grandparents had slides halfway down the middle of the plate. I take a fork and indulge my senses in the desert. The sweet sugar tantalizes my taste buds. The cream sizzles in the saliva. Every bite is paradise.

My eyes turn to Sabia. My face might be covered in frosting, but that doesn't stop me from giving her a big smile. In response, she returns the grin. 

Kyran lets out a heavy sigh and says, "Well, I better get going. Don't wanna keep Llwyd waiting, or else he might kick me off the Council."

"Thanks for staying a bit longer," I tell my brother before he makes it to the doorjamb. He whirls around to face me once more.

"After today, some people will assure you this system is wrong, and other will tell you that it's right." Kyran's voice is soft as a whisper but just loud enough for me to hear him. In his moment of silence, his upper teeth press down on his lower lip.  After that, he resumes his speech. "It's up to you to decide where you stand."

~

Hey, guys. So I just loved writing this Kyran and Betrys sister-brother scene. It's just so cute. 

Anyone have an idea why Betrys thinks of Eileene as a 'brat?' 

What do you feel about Sabia? Isn't she sweet? 

That gown, though. Isn't it tres magnifique? 

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment. I'd really appreciate it. Thanks. 

Here's a gif: 

X Shay X