36: Theodore

The following minutes unfolded with strained normalcy. Emma and Elijah engaged Alpha Donovan in conversation about the specifics of the engineering assistance, while I drifted slightly apart to speak with Christian who had approached during the exchange. My brother's perceptive gaze missed nothing, noting Emma's tension and my protective stance with that analytical assessment that made him invaluable in court politics.

"Trouble?" he murmured, pitching his voice for my ears alone.

"Potentially," I acknowledged. "Her former mate is apparently in attendance."

Christian's expression sharpened, gray eyes scanning the room with renewed focus. "The abusive one. Interesting timing."

"Indeed." I kept Emma in my peripheral vision, tracking her movements with an awareness that transcended ordinary perception. The mate bond, though new, allowed impressions of her emotional state to flow with increasing clarity—anxiety threaded through with determination, fear countered by resolute courage.

I was mid-sentence with Christian when I saw him—a tall werewolf with cold gray eyes and rigidly perfect posture, moving through the crowd with entitled confidence. Even without context, I would have marked him as dangerous—not from physical prowess alone, but from the calculated assessment in his gaze as it fixed on Emma across the room.

The change in Elijah was instantaneous and striking. His expression transformed from polite diplomacy to something ancient and dangerous, the Alpha wolf rising to the surface as he pivoted to face the approaching threat. He stepped smoothly in front of Emma, a protective movement so natural it spoke of long practice.

I moved without conscious decision, crossing the short distance to Emma's side in swift strides. The ballroom's ambient conversation dulled to background noise as I focused entirely on the confrontation unfolding before me. Even from several feet away, I could see the pain in Emma's eyes—not fresh hurt, but the echo of old wounds reopened by unwelcome presence.

"Benjamin," Elijah said, the name emerging as a barely restrained growl. "What the hell do you want? You've got some nerve approaching Emma again after everything you've done."

Benjamin Thorne stood precisely as Emma had once described him—tall for a werewolf, with sharp features arranged in an expression of practiced charm that failed to mask the coldness beneath. His blonde hair was meticulously styled, his formal attire expensive and impeccable. Everything about him spoke of rigid control and calculated presentation.

"Alpha Maxwell," he replied, his voice carrying that particular tone of condescension disguised as politeness. "I'm merely attending the summit, as is my right as Alpha of Silver Crescent." His gaze slid past Elijah to where Emma stood, something possessive flaring in his eyes. "I see my Luna is in attendance as well."

"I'm nothing to you, Benjamin," Emma said, her voice quiet but steady. "You made sure of that a long time ago."

The simple dignity in her response stirred something fierce within me, pride mingling with the rage Aeson projected at this wolf who had hurt our mate. I reached Emma's side just as Benjamin's expression hardened, his mask of civility slipping to reveal something uglier beneath.

"You're my mate," he insisted, stepping forward with a motion that might have seemed casual to observers but carried clear threat to those who recognized predatory movement. "It's time you came home with me. This... rebellion... has gone on long enough."

I moved without hesitation, positioning myself beside Elijah to form a living barrier between Emma and her former abuser. The symbolism wasn't lost on me—Lycan King and werewolf Alpha standing together to protect someone they both valued, ancient divisions momentarily irrelevant against a common threat.

"Alpha Thorne," I said, my voice carrying the weight of royal authority despite its measured volume. "I believe Gamma Maxwell has made her position clear."

Benjamin's eyes widened slightly as he fully registered my presence, calculation flickering across his features as he reassessed the situation. "Your Majesty," he said, offering a bow that met the bare minimum of protocol. "This is a pack matter that predates your... interest... in my Luna."

The possessive reference to Emma made Aeson snarl within me, pushing so forcefully against my control that I felt my eyes begin to shift. I embraced the change, allowing just enough of Aeson's presence to manifest that Benjamin could see the purple-blue glow behind my gaze. Let him understand exactly what stood between him and Emma now.

"Former Luna," I corrected, each word precisely enunciated. "As I understand werewolf law, a mate bond formally rejected due to abuse carries no lingering claim. Particularly when a second-chance mate has been recognized."

The implication hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Benjamin's face drained of colour, his eyes darting between Emma and me as realization dawned. Around us, the nearest attendees had gone silent, attention riveted on the unprecedented confrontation unfolding in their midst.

"That's not possible," Benjamin said, but uncertainty had crept into his voice. "She's damaged. Defective. She couldn't possibly—"

"Choose your next words with extreme care, Alpha Thorne," I interrupted, my tone dropping to a dangerous register that made several nearby Lycans step back instinctively. "You speak of my mate."

The formal declaration silenced the remaining whispers in our vicinity. I hadn't planned to announce our connection so publicly, but faced with Benjamin's attempt to diminish Emma, I found I had no patience left for political caution.

Emma moved then, stepping forward to stand beside rather than behind Elijah and me. The simple repositioning spoke volumes—not hiding behind protection, but choosing to stand with those who respected her strength.

"Benjamin," she said, her voice steadier now, carrying the natural authority of her Alpha wolf, "you lost any claim to me the night you decided I was property rather than partner. Nothing has changed since then, except that I've found where I truly belong."

Her fingers brushed against mine as she spoke, and we felt a spark—static from the dry air, but it jolted us nonetheless. The mate bond hummed between us, new but undeniable, fragile yet already precious beyond measure.

Benjamin's gaze tracked the gesture, his expression hardening into something ugly. "This isn't over, you will be coming home with me," he said, the words emerging with quiet venom. "A werewolf cannot be the Lycan King's true mate. This is an abomination."

"Yet here we stand," I replied simply.

For a moment longer he held his ground, grey eyes cold with calculation. Then, recognizing the political landscape had shifted irrevocably against him, he inclined his head in a gesture that mimicked respect while conveying none.

"Your Majesty. Alpha Maxwell." His gaze lingered on Emma, something between threat and regret flickering across his features before he turned and walked away, his movements stiff with injured pride.

I watched him go, Aeson still prowling restlessly beneath my skin, unwilling to relax his vigilance until the threat was fully removed. Beside me, Emma released a breath that seemed to carry the weight of years, her shoulders lowering fractionally from their defensive posture.

"Well," Elijah said after a moment, his tone deliberately light despite the tension still radiating from him, "that's one way to announce a mate bond to the entire kingdom."

A small, startled laugh escaped Emma, the sound surprising even her. "Subtle as usual, brother."

I turned to face her fully, studying the complex emotions playing across her features. "I apologise if that was premature," I said quietly. "His attempt to claim you—"

"Was exactly what I should have expected," she finished for me. "And your response was... appreciated."

Our eyes met, and in that moment, something shifted between us—not the magical recognition of the mate bond, but something more deliberate, more human. A choice, made in the face of complicated reality rather than mystical destiny.

She smiled then, small but genuine, and my fingers tingled with the memory of her touch. But I felt a warmth in my chest that outshone any physical sensation—hope, blooming like dawn after the longest night.