Mary Ann’s POV
I discovered very quickly that telling three packs I wanted a small wedding was apparently meaningless.
“Absolutely not.”
Greta stood in the middle of the restored wildflower garden with both hands on her hips.
I stared at her.
“Absolutely not what?”
“One hundred guests.”
“That is already more than I wanted.”
“One hundred guests is not a wedding.”
“It is exactly a wedding.”
“For the Luna of Ironclaw?”
“Yes.”
“The ceremonial Alpha of Nightveil?”
“Yes.”
“Daughter of Mooncrest?”
“Still yes.”
Greta looked personally offended.
“There are three packs involved.”
“There are two people getting married.”
“That is an unnecessarily narrow way to look at it.”
I laughed.
Wedding preparations had officially begun four days ago, and Greta had transformed into something
