The sun rose slowly over the rogue camp, but the air buzzed with excitement like a festival was coming.

Selene stepped out of her tent, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and paused.

Rogues were running around with fabric, sticks, and baskets. Some tied leaves into braids, others hunted for flowers that barely bloomed in their part of the forest. Jarek was dragging logs across the clearing with a deep scowl.

Caius walked past her, carrying what looked like a stolen curtain.

Selene raised a brow. “What in the moon’s name is going on?”

Caius didn’t stop. “Mira and Bren are getting mated today. You heard me.”

She blinked. “Mated? As...