11: Theodore

I watched Emma's fingers trace the rim of her wine glass, each movement deliberate yet graceful. The simple gesture captivated me with an intensity that would have been alarming had I not recognized its source—the mate bond, still new and raw between us, amplifying every small detail of her existence in my awareness. Two centuries of waiting, and now she stood before me, this werewolf woman with careful eyes and guarded smiles, simultaneously the answer to my oldest prayers and my most complex diplomatic challenge.

The weight of my crown—both literal and figurative—pressed against my temples as I considered the implications. A werewolf mate for the Lycan King. The traditionalists would be outraged, the progressives cautiously optimistic, and the general populace divided along the ancient fault lines of inter-species prejudice. Yet as I watched the subtle shift of her expression when she spoke of those displaced cubs, something beyond politics stirred within me—a primal need to provide, to protect, to prove myself worthy in her eyes.

Movement at the corner of my vision drew my attention. Emma's brother, Alpha Elijah Maxwell, approached with his Luna beside him. I recognized the measured alertness in their posture—diplomatic caution layered over protective concern. The resemblance between siblings was striking; the same forest-green eyes, the same watchful intelligence, though Elijah's features were sharper, more commanding.

My wolf stirred within me, instinctively responding to the presence of another Alpha in close proximity to my newly discovered mate. I suppressed the urge to step closer to Emma, reminding myself that this was her family, not a threat. Still, the possessive heat in my chest refused to be entirely quelled.

They moved through the crowd with the fluid grace particular to born wolves, navigating the subtle currents of power and politics with innate awareness. Despite being werewolves in a predominantly Lycan gathering, they carried themselves with quiet dignity. I found myself respecting that, even as I noted how the crowd parted for them—some with deference due to Alpha status, others with the subtle distancing that centuries of prejudice had ingrained.

As they reached us, both Elijah and Elena bowed their heads respectfully—the formal acknowledgment of my royal position. The gesture was proper, expected, yet it created an odd dissonance within me. This man was my mate's brother, potentially my future brother-in-law, yet bound by protocol to show deference. How strange the artifice of hierarchy appeared when viewed through the lens of personal connection.

"Your Majesty," Elijah said, his voice carrying the natural authority of an Alpha, tempered with diplomatic precision.

"Alpha Maxwell, Luna Elena," I responded, inclining my head slightly—a gesture not required by protocol, but offered as recognition of their status. The subtle widening of nearby Lycans' eyes did not escape my notice. Every move I made was observed, interpreted, judged.

Elijah's attention shifted immediately to his sister. "Emma, are you okay?" he asked, his formal mask slipping to reveal genuine concern. "We saw Minister Bennett over here, and I know your last encounter with him..."

Emma's laugh surprised me—a short, genuine sound with an edge of irony. "Didn't end well?" she finished for him, her smile wry but relaxed. "I'm fine, big brother. I just caught Theo up on some of the relief efforts after the earthquake."

The casual use of my name sent a ripple of warmth through me, despite knowing it would feed the whispers already circulating through the ballroom. My animal preened at this small public claim.

Elijah nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to me, assessing. I'd seen that look countless times in diplomatic settings—the careful weighing of intention and sincerity. But there was something more personal in it now, the evaluation of a man who might be connected to his sister, not just a monarch engaged in politics.

"Alpha Elijah," I said, seizing the opening, "I wanted to thank you for taking in some of the displaced families." The words formed with careful deliberation, my voice pitched to carry no further than our small circle. "If this has caused your pack any financial hardship, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to help."

The surprise that flashed across both their faces would have been amusing in another context—but it spoke volumes about the historical relationship between the Crown and werewolf packs. The fact that my simple offer of assistance could provoke such shock underscored exactly why reforms were so desperately needed.

"That's... appreciated, Your Highness," Elijah responded after a moment, his diplomatic composure returning quickly. "Most of our expenditure on the matter didn't go internally, however. It went on rebuilding houses in the Eclipse Moon territory itself."

I felt my expression sharpen with interest. "That, I can definitely help with."

Emma shifted beside me, her scent changing subtly—surprise mingled with something warmer. Our eyes met briefly, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a small, private smile that sent heat coursing through my veins. Approval. From her, it meant more than acclaim from a thousand nobles.

"The earthquake devastated their territory," Elena said, her voice gentle yet carrying the unmistakable steel of a Luna protecting their extended pack. "They lost their community center, medical facility, and nearly half their residential buildings."

"And three pack members," Emma added quietly.

My jaw tightened at that confirmation.

"I was just learning about this from Emma," I explained, unable to entirely mask the edge in my voice. "It seems my administration has been... selective... in what information reaches me."

Elijah's eyes narrowed slightly. "We assumed you were aware, Your Majesty."

"I was not." The words emerged clipped, precise. "Nor was I aware that approved relief funds were withheld or redirected."

A moment of silence followed this admission. The implications hung in the air between us—the king, unaware of significant events within his own realm, relief efforts sabotaged by his own ministers. In that silence, I could almost hear their recalculation of what my rule truly meant, what power I actually wielded versus what was circumvented by entrenched systems.

"Minister Bennett mentioned 'budgetary constraints' when he visited Eclipse Moon," Elena offered carefully. "Something about fiscal responsibility and resource allocation priorities."

"While authorizing new furnishings for the council chambers," Emma added, her voice deceptively casual as she took a sip of her wine.