35: Theodore

I guided Emma from our private sanctuary back toward the glittering chaos of the summit ballroom, her hand resting lightly on my forearm like a bird that might take flight at any moment. Her scent—wild honey and mountain herbs—enveloped me with each step, a sensory reminder of the connection neither of us had sought but both now navigated with cautious steps. My fingers tingled where they had brushed against hers during dinner, but I felt a warmth in my chest, an expanding heat that I recognized not as the discomfort of royal obligation but as something more primal, more essential: the need to protect what was mine.

The thought should have startled me—two centuries of careful diplomatic training had taught me to curb Aeson's possessive instincts—yet it settled into my consciousness with the comfort of ancient truth. Emma was my mate. My queen, whether she was ready to accept that title or not.

"Are you ready?" I asked softly as we approached the massive doors that separated our quiet evening from the political theater beyond. The summit's evening reception would be in full swing, hundreds of eyes ready to note every nuance of our appearance together.

She drew a breath, her chest rising with the effort. "As I'll ever be."

Her voice carried that blend of vulnerability and steel that I found increasingly captivating—the gamma who could take down opponents twice her size, somehow nervous about entering a ballroom at my side. Aeson rumbled appreciatively within me, pleased that such a formidable woman would show us this softer aspect of herself.

The doors swung open at our approach, revealing the Golden Compass's grand ballroom in all its orchestrated splendor. Crystal chandeliers spilled warm light across the gathering, catching on jewels and formal attire, creating constellations of reflected brilliance against marble walls. The hum of conversation faltered as heads turned toward us, then bowed in synchronized deference—the traditional acknowledgment of royal presence.

Emma's hand tensed on my arm, though not with the rigid discomfort she'd shown during our first entrance together. This tension felt different—awareness rather than fear, preparation rather than retreat. I covered her hand with mine, my thumb tracing a small circle against her skin in silent reassurance.

"They're merely following protocol," I murmured. "Nothing to do with you."

She gave me a sidelong glance, those remarkable green eyes sharp with knowing. "We both know that's not entirely true."

Indeed, the whispers had already begun, rippling through the crowd like wind through tall grass. The Lycan King escorting a werewolf gamma was unprecedented enough; the intimate gesture of my hand covering hers would fuel speculation for weeks. I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

As we moved deeper into the room, Aeson purred his satisfaction when Emma's posture relaxed incrementally beneath my touch. My mate, accepting my comfort. The simple reality of it filled me with a contentment I hadn't experienced in decades.

"Alpha Donovan," Emma said, guiding us toward a powerfully built werewolf with silver streaking his dark beard. "May I present King Theodore?"

The Alpha of Eclipse Moon Pack straightened, offering the formal bow that protocol demanded while maintaining the dignified bearing of a pack leader. "Your Majesty. This is an unexpected honour."

"The honour is mine," I replied, noting with approval that while his gesture was respectful, it lacked the excessive deference some werewolves displayed. "Emma has been telling me about your pack's situation. I want to assure you personally that engineers will arrive at your territory tomorrow."

Donovan's eyebrows rose, surprise flickering across his weathered features before he controlled it. "That's... most generous, Your Majesty."

"Not generosity," I corrected gently. "Justice. Your pack should have received aid immediately after the earthquake." I gestured to Emma. "Emma has been instrumental in bringing these oversights to my attention."

Emma's cheeks coloured slightly, but she met Donovan's gaze with steady confidence. "The King has authorised a comprehensive review of all relief fund allocations," she explained. "With particular attention to the families still displaced."

The warmth that spread through Donovan's expression was worth any political capital this intervention might cost me. "Those families will be grateful, as am I." He inclined his head to Emma. "Blood Moon has been generous with shelter, but our cubs need their home."

"The twin cubs," I recalled, drawing on our earlier conversation. "Born just before the disaster?"

Something shifted in Donovan's eyes—surprise, perhaps, that the Lycan King would know or care about specific werewolf children. "Yes. They've never slept under their own pack's moon. This will change everything for them."

We continued through the ballroom, Emma introducing me to members of various packs with the diplomatic grace that seemed second nature to her. The Northern Crescent Alpha with his distinctive silver-streaked hair; a petite female Beta from Stone River Pack whose quiet demeanor belied the sharp intelligence in her amber eyes; the White River twins who served as joint gammas for their pack, their synchronized movements betraying their connection.

Each introduction revealed another facet of Emma's world—the complex web of relationships that bound the werewolf packs together, separate from yet connected to the Lycan hierarchy I governed. In every interaction, I noted the respect these wolves showed her, not merely as Blood Moon's gamma but as a leader worthy of regard in her own right.

Aeson drank in these observations with satisfaction, further confirmation of our mate's quality. ‘Strong connections,’ he rumbled within me. ‘Respected by many.’

I had just caught sight of Christian across the room when a ripple of tension cut through the atmosphere. Emma stiffened beside me, her hand tightening instinctively on my arm. I followed her gaze to see Elijah moving through the crowd with uncharacteristic urgency, his expression grave as he approached us.

He reached us in moments, his breathing slightly elevated, eyes dark with concern. "Em," he said without preamble, "he's here."

Two simple words that transformed the woman beside me. Emma went utterly still, the blood draining from her face so rapidly I instinctively stepped closer, fearing she might falter. Aeson surged forward in my consciousness, responding to the distress signals emanating from our mate with protective fury.

"Benjamin," I said, the name emerging as a statement rather than question. The mate who had hurt her. The wolf who had made my strong, capable Emma flinch at sudden movements.

Elijah nodded once, sharp and confirming. "I just wanted to tell you before you ran into him." His eyes flicked between his sister and me, assessing, calculating. "I didn't know he'd been invited."

I squeezed Emma's hand gently, careful to telegraph the movement so as not to startle her. Still, she flinched beneath my touch, the reaction so at odds with her usual composure that Aeson whined with distress. My powerful Alpha mate, suddenly vulnerable. The contrast twisted something painful in my chest.

"Neither Theo nor I will let you deal with him alone, Em," Elijah said, his voice softening as he addressed his sister. "He won't get near you unless you want him to."

She nodded, giving him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I know." Two syllables that carried the weight of shared history, of a brother who had once carried her from danger.

"If you'd prefer to leave," I offered quietly, "we can go immediately. A side exit, no explanation needed."

Her shoulders straightened, chin lifting in subtle defiance. "No. I won't let him drive me away from anything ever again."

Pride bloomed in my chest, fierce and unexpected. This was why she was my mate—not just the magical connection our wolves recognized, but the core of resilience that refused to bend even when battered by storms.

"As you wish," I said simply.