12: Theodore

I couldn't suppress a short, humourless laugh. "Yes, he just admitted as much to me. Rest assured, there will be a thorough audit of the emergency relief funds tomorrow." I paused, considering my next words carefully. "I'd appreciate details on which packs requested aid and what they actually received. Emma has given me an overview, but specific documentation would be helpful."

"Of course," Elijah agreed. "I can have our records messenger-delivered to the palace tomorrow."

"I'd prefer if you'd bring them personally," I said, the decision forming even as I spoke it. "Perhaps you and Emma could join me for lunch? We can discuss the situation more thoroughly." The invitation was impulsive but calculated—a chance to continue building a connection with Emma under the guise of official business, while simultaneously gathering the information I needed.

Elijah's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded. "We would be honoured, Your Majesty."

"Theo," I corrected gently. "At least in private settings."

A subtle shift occurred in Elijah's posture—not quite relaxation, but a slight easing of formal tension. "Theo, then," he acknowledged with a small nod.

Elena glanced between Emma and me, something knowing in her warm brown eyes. "The families staying with us will be grateful for any assistance," she said. "Especially the Morells with their twin cubs. They've been with us since just after the earthquake."

"Emma mentioned them," I said, watching my mate's expression soften at the reference to the cubs. "Born just before the disaster, I understand?"

"Three weeks before," Elena confirmed. "They've never known a permanent home."

The thought of wolf cubs, barely more than babies, living in temporary accommodation for most of their young lives stirred something protective in me that went beyond royal duty. These were children of my realm, their security and well-being my responsibility in the most fundamental sense.

"That ends now," I said, my tone carrying the quiet certainty that came with royal declaration. "I'll dispatch a construction team to Eclipse Moon territory by the end of the week. Housing for displaced families takes priority."

"That's... generous," Elijah said carefully. "But Eclipse Moon's issues go beyond housing. Their infrastructure was severely damaged. Water systems, community buildings, the medical facility..."

"All will be addressed," I assured him. "I want a comprehensive assessment. Whatever has been neglected will be rectified."

Emma was watching me closely, her expression guarded yet curious. "That's a significant commitment, Theo."

"It's the bare minimum of what should have happened immediately after the disaster," I countered, meeting her gaze steadily. "I'm not offering charity, Emma. I'm correcting a failure of governance."

Something in her eyes softened at that—recognition, perhaps, that my motivation went beyond political calculation or personal connection to her. This wasn't about impressing my mate; it was about being the king I had sworn to be.

"We've been contributing what we can to the rebuilding efforts," Elena explained. "Several packs have. But materials are expensive, and skilled labour is in short supply."

"The royal engineers corps has both," I said. "And they're woefully underutilised on ceremonial projects that could easily wait."

Elijah's expression remained carefully neutral, but I caught the flash of surprise in his eyes. "The royal engineers are primarily engaged in Lycan territories, traditionally."

"Some traditions need to change," I replied simply. "The Eclipse Moon Pack is as much a part of this kingdom as any Lycan settlement. They deserve equal access to resources."

A server approached with fresh drinks, his movements carefully calibrated to be non-intrusive.

"We should discuss the specifics tomorrow," I continued once the server had departed. "I'd like to understand exactly what's been done so far and what remains most urgent."

"Of course," Elijah agreed. "Though I should warn you, the documentation is... extensive. Emma has been keeping meticulous records."

I glanced at Emma, whose cheeks had coloured slightly at her brother's praise. "I would expect nothing less from your gamma," I said, allowing a hint of warmth to seep into my formal tone.

"She designed an entire tracking system for inter-pack aid distribution," Elena added, her pride evident. "It's been adopted by three neighbouring territories."

Emma's blush deepened. "It's just a practical solution to a logistical problem."

"It's innovation," I countered, genuinely impressed. "And exactly the kind of thinking needed to address these issues effectively."

The bond between us hummed with unexpected resonance as our eyes met. My animal pressed forward, desperate to connect more deeply with this capable, compassionate woman who had unexpectedly become the centre of my existence. I restrained the urge to touch her, to claim her publicly as mine, aware of the countless eyes watching our interaction. The time for such declarations would come, but first, we needed to build something sturdy enough to withstand the storm our union would inevitably create.

"The Lycan-Werewolf Alliance Council meets next month," I said, the idea forming as I spoke. "I'd like to present this reconstruction initiative there—not as a royal charity project, but as the first step in a new approach to disaster response throughout the kingdom."

Elijah's expression shifted to one of genuine interest. "A standardized protocol that doesn't discriminate between territories?"

"Precisely," I confirmed. "Equal assessment, equal distribution of resources, transparent oversight."

"That would be... unprecedented," Elena observed, her tone thoughtful rather than dismissive.

"I plan that many things about my administration will be unprecedented," I replied, my gaze returning to Emma almost of its own accord.

She met my eyes steadily, something like cautious hope flickering across her features. The sentiment mirrored my own—hope tempered by the reality of centuries of division, yet persistent nonetheless.

"To unprecedented changes," Elijah said quietly, raising his glass in a subtle toast.

I lifted my own in response, the crystal catching the golden light from the chandeliers above. "And to those brave enough to embrace them."

As our glasses touched, I felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere between us—not the immediate dissolution of centuries of prejudice and mistrust, but perhaps the first tentative step across that divide. Emma's fingers brushed mine accidentally as she raised her glass, sending a jolt of awareness through my hand and up my arm. Our eyes met over the rims of our glasses, and in that moment, I could almost believe that the path ahead, while undoubtedly challenging, was not impossible.

My hands tingled with that brief contact, but I felt a warmth in my chest—not guilt as in the style example, but something equally powerful: purpose. A clear vision of the future I wanted to build, with this woman by my side, our differences not erased but embraced as strength rather than division.

The kingdom would change. I would ensure it. Not just for the mate bond that hummed between us, but for the twin cubs who had never known a permanent home, for the packs still rebuilding from disaster, for every subject—Lycan and werewolf alike—who deserved a ruler who saw them as equals under the law and under the moon.