19: Theodore

The moonlight traced silver along Artemis's white fur as she bounded ahead of me through the trees, her paws barely disturbing the forest floor. My own Lycan form moved with less grace but more power, each stride covering twice the distance of a normal step. The night air carried her scent back to me—wild honey and mountain herbs, intoxicating in its newness. My mate. The thought still sparked disbelief beneath the certainty, a king who had finally found his queen in the most unexpected of places.

We approached the clearing where we'd left our formal attire, slowing to a trot. Artemis glanced back at me, her yellow-green eyes luminous in the darkness, before veering right toward the massive oak that held her gown. I turned left, heading for the pine where my royal garments waited.

Behind the broad trunk, I allowed the transformation to begin. Heat rippled through my fur, bones reshaping with practiced ease as I shifted from Lycan to human form. The night air, previously comfortable against my pelt, now raised goosebumps across my bare skin. My senses dulled slightly, the forest sounds receding from sharp clarity to mere background whispers.

’I miss her already,’ Aeson murmured within me, his presence settling back into the deeper regions of my consciousness.

"She's only a few trees away," I whispered aloud, reaching for my clothes.

My fingers fumbled slightly with the complex fastenings of formal royal attire—buttons and clasps designed for show rather than convenience. I worked methodically, slipping back into the careful persona of King Theodore Lykoudis, even as my thoughts remained with the woman shifting behind the oak.

I wondered if Emma felt it too—this strange dichotomy of identities. The wild freedom of our wolves running beneath moonlight juxtaposed against the weight of our public roles. For her, gamma of the Blood Moon Pack with her unexpected Alpha wolf. For me, king of a divided realm with ancient prejudices I was determined to dismantle.

The platinum crown was the last piece, cool against my temples as I settled it in place. Two centuries of wearing this symbol, yet tonight it felt simultaneously heavier and less significant than ever before.

A soft rustling announced Emma's approach. She stepped from the shadows, the midnight blue of her gown capturing starlight along its folds. Her hair had come slightly loose from its earlier arrangement, a few strands falling free around her face. The effect was oddly captivating—the precise diplomat slightly undone by the wild run.

"Ready to face the vultures again?" she asked, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"More ready than I was before," I replied, offering my arm.

She hesitated only briefly before sliding her hand through the crook of my elbow. Even through layers of formal fabric, the contact sent a current of warmth up my arm, settling somewhere behind my ribs. Aeson stirred lazily, contentment rolling through our shared consciousness like distant thunder.

"Your Artemis is remarkable," I said as we began walking toward the gleaming lights of the Golden Compass. "I've never seen a wolf that fast."

Emma's smile widened slightly. "She likes to show off. Especially in front of..." She paused, her cheeks colouring faintly. "Well, in front of you, apparently."

"Aeson is equally impressed," I assured her. "And equally eager to impress."

"Is that why he let me win that game of chase?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

I laughed, the sound surprising me with its genuineness. When had I last laughed without diplomatic calculation? "He would be mortally offended to hear you suggest he wasn't simply outmatched."

We emerged from the tree line, the Golden Compass rising before us like a monument to opulence. Its golden inlays caught moonlight, creating abstract patterns across the white marble facade.

The doors opened at our approach, a deferential attendant bowing deeply as we passed. The grand foyer gleamed with polished marble and moonstone accents, the night's festivities audible from the ballroom beyond. Emma's posture straightened beside me, her gamma's vigilance returning as we approached the double doors.

"I keep expecting to wake up," she murmured, so quietly I might have missed it without Lycan hearing.

I covered her hand with mine where it rested on my arm. "If this is a dream, I have no desire to wake from it."

Her eyes met mine, vulnerability mingling with something warmer that made my breath catch. Before she could respond, the ballroom doors swung open, and we stepped into the full splendor of the summit's main event.

The effect was immediate and unmistakable. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. Music continued, but suddenly seemed too loud in the hush that fell over the gathering. Heads turned in our direction, then lowered in the traditional bow to royal presence. Across the ballroom, I could see the subtle differences—Lycans maintaining perfect form in their deference, werewolves adding varying degrees of stiffness that spoke of resentment or unfamiliarity with the gesture.

Beside me, Emma froze, her body tensing as if caught in an uncomfortable truth. Her hand tightened on my arm, and I felt her begin to pull away—to bow as protocol demanded.

I leaned down, bringing my lips close to her ear. The scent of her, forest and moonlight mingled with something uniquely Emma, momentarily overwhelmed my composure.

"You're my mate," I whispered, my voice steady despite the erratic beating of my heart. "You don't have to bow, show deference, or use anything but my name."

She turned to face me, her green eyes widening slightly. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the subdued music.

I nodded, aware of hundreds of eyes cataloging our every movement, our every expression. "Of course."

The diplomatic implications of such a statement were enormous—declaring her my equal in the most public setting possible. I had spent nearly two centuries carefully calculating each political move, weighing potential reactions against desired outcomes. This was perhaps the most significant declaration of my reign, and I had made it on impulse, driven by something more primal than politics.

Aeson purred his approval within me.

Emma's posture shifted subtly, her chin lifting a fraction as she made the decision to trust my judgment. We moved forward together, the crowd parting before us like water around stone. I caught fragments of whispered conversations, saw the shock and speculation rippling through the gathering. Minister Bennett stood in a corner, his face an interesting study in horror and calculation.