43: Emma

I stood in the corridor outside the ballroom doors, my hand tucked into the crook of Theo's arm, and tried to remember how to breathe normally. The massive oak panels loomed before us like sentinels guarding the moment when my life would irrevocably change. My fingers trembled against the fine fabric of Theo's sleeve, but I felt a warmth in my chest, an uncomfortable heat that I recognized not as fear but as destiny finally catching up to me.

"Ready?" Theo murmured, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear.

I wasn't ready. How could anyone be ready for this? Two days ago, I had been simply Emma Maxwell, gamma of the Blood Moon Pack. Now I was mate to the Lycan King, about to be presented as Queen to a roomful of dignitaries who had, until this moment, seen me as little more than a diplomatic courtesy. Behind us, Elijah cleared his throat softly – my brother's subtle way of offering support without pushing.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I whispered back, forcing my spine straighter.

Theo's hand covered mine where it rested against his arm, his thumb tracing a small circle against my skin. The simple gesture steadied me, though nothing could entirely quiet the frantic pounding of my heart. Artemis, usually so vocal, had gone uncharacteristically quiet within me, as if even she understood the gravity of what was about to happen.

The attendants stationed at either side of the doors noticed our approach, their eyes widening as they registered not just the King's presence but the subtle change in his scent – now intertwined with mine in a way that marked us unmistakably as mates. They bowed deeply, then moved to open the massive doors with synchronized precision.

"Just breathe," Elena murmured from behind me, her voice barely audible. "One step at a time."

The doors swung open, revealing the glittering expanse of the Summit ballroom beyond. Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light across the gathering, illuminating hundreds of faces turned expectantly toward the entrance. The low hum of conversation that had filled the room mere seconds before vanished like mist under sunlight, replaced by a silence so profound it seemed to have physical weight.

I felt the moment our combined auras hit the crowd. It rippled across the ballroom like an invisible wave, causing a collective intake of breath followed by the sound of shuffling movement as every werewolf and Lycan in attendance lowered their heads in synchronous deference. The reaction wasn't just to Theo's royal presence, which they were accustomed to – this was something different, something more powerful.

My Alpha aura, no longer concealed but amplified by the mate bond, combined with Theo's royal status to create something unprecedented. I could almost see it myself – the pale green shimmer of my power blending with the royal purple-blue of his, creating an ethereal corona around us that was both beautiful and terrifying in its implications.

"My King," came the murmured response from countless throats, the traditional greeting for royal presence.

Then, a heartbeat later, something that made my blood freeze in my veins:

"My Queen."

The title struck me like a physical blow. I had intellectually understood what was happening, had discussed it on the balcony with Theo and our families. But hearing it directed at me – this formal acknowledgment of my new status – made it suddenly, inescapably real. The mate bond hummed between us, strengthened by Theo's steady presence and quiet confidence.

Christian moved slightly ahead of us, his trained diplomatic eye scanning the room for potential trouble. Elijah and Elena remained close behind, their familiar presence a comfort as Theo gently guided me forward into this new territory.

Our first steps into the ballroom seemed to break the spell of absolute silence. Whispers erupted like distant rainfall, spreading from person to person, table to table. I could catch fragments as we passed – some awed, some disbelieving, some unmistakably hostile.

"A werewolf Queen..."

"...impossible..."

"...Alpha female? How did no one know..."

"...sacrilege against tradition..."

Each step forward required conscious effort. My legs felt both weighted and disconnected, as if I were walking through deep water. Theo's arm remained steady beneath my hand, his pace deliberate but unhurried as we moved deeper into the ballroom. The crowd parted before us like a river dividing around stone, no one daring to remain in our direct path.

I forced myself to look at the faces we passed rather than at the floor. Some werewolves watched with undisguised hope in their eyes, as if my unlikely elevation represented possibility for all of them. Others – particularly the older Lycans in their formal council attire – radiated such palpable disapproval that I could almost taste the bitter edges of their scorn.

Minister Krea stood rigid near a marble column, her pale blue eyes narrowed to icy slits, her hands clasped so tightly before her that her knuckles shone white against her already pale skin. Beside her, Minister Stavros looked as though he had swallowed something rancid, his military posture now seeming more like a barricade against change than a mark of discipline.

We reached the centre of the ballroom, where a slight elevation in the floor created a natural focal point. Theo stopped, drawing me to stand beside rather than behind him – a positioning that did not go unnoticed by the watching crowd. Their whispers intensified, the undercurrent of tension in the room thickening like storm clouds gathering strength.

"My friends," Theo's voice carried effortlessly across the silent ballroom, his tone both warm and authoritative. "This evening has brought an unexpected blessing that I wish to share with you all."

His fingers intertwined with mine, our joined hands visible to everyone watching. I felt hundreds of eyes fix on that point of contact, that simple yet revolutionary gesture between Lycan King and werewolf mate.

"Tonight, the Moon Goddess has granted me her greatest gift – a true mate bond." His voice deepened slightly on those words, an undercurrent of emotion making them more powerful. "I present to you Alpha Emeline Maxwell of the Blood Moon Pack, my mate and your Queen."

The declaration hung in the air like crystal suspended in sunlight – beautiful, sharp-edged, and impossible to ignore. The whispers that had been a gentle rainfall now became a deluge, voices rising in volume as the full impact of Theo's words registered across the gathering.

"A werewolf on the throne?"

"Alpha? She's been hiding her true nature—"

"This violates centuries of tradition!"

"The council will never accept—"

Each phrase that reached my ears sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me, yet beneath that discomfort, Artemis stirred with growing indignation. After years of hiding, of dampening her true Alpha nature, she was finally free to stand in her power. The criticism felt less like personal attack and more like the last gasps of an outdated order that feared its own inevitable change.