44: Emma

I searched the crowd, unable to stop myself from seeking one face in particular. I found him against the far wall – Benjamin Thorne, his expression carved from ice, his gray eyes burning with such hatred that it should have scorched the air between us. As our gazes connected, his lips curled in a sneer of pure contempt, though he remained in the same bowed posture as everyone else in the room, compelled by the weight of our combined auras.

The sight of him – my former abuser now forced to bow before me – should have brought satisfaction. Instead, it filled me with a strange mixture of pity and resolve. He seemed smaller somehow, his power over me dissolved not by my elevation but by my healing, by the choice I had made to trust again despite his best efforts to destroy that capacity within me.

A voice rose above the others, sharp with outrage. "This is an abomination against nature! A werewolf cannot be Queen!"

The words cut through the murmuring like a blade. The speaker – an elderly Lycan whose elaborate formal wear marked him as a council elder – had stepped forward, his face flushed with indignation. "The royal line has remained pure for millennia. This... arrangement... defies all tradition, all propriety!"

I felt Theo tense beside me, his body coiling with controlled anger. Before he could respond, another voice joined in.

"The female claims Alpha status, yet has hidden among her pack as a mere gamma." This from a werewolf Alpha I recognized from the northern territories, his tone dripping with disdain. "What kind of Alpha conceals her true nature? What kind of leader hides in the shadows?"

The criticism stung more than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Theo's voice thundered across the ballroom, silencing every whisper with its sheer authority.

"Enough!"

The single word carried such power that several nearby crystal glasses vibrated on their surfaces. Theo's eyes had shifted to Aeson's purple-blue, his royal aura intensifying until it felt like static electricity against my skin.

"The mate bond is sacred above all other considerations," he continued, his voice lowered but no less commanding. "It is not granted by councils or determined by tradition. It is bestowed by the Moon Goddess herself."

He moved forward slightly, his gaze sweeping the gathering with deliberate slowness, meeting the eyes of those who had spoken out. "To question the legitimacy of this bond – to disrespect your Queen – is to disrespect not just your King, but the divine will of the Moon Goddess."

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Even the most traditional Lycans hesitated to directly challenge divine authority. The elder who had spoken first took a small step backward, though his expression remained rebellious.

"Furthermore," Theo continued, his voice carrying a dangerous edge, "Queen Emeline's Alpha status is a testament to her strength, not a mark against her character. That she chose to serve her pack as gamma rather than challenging the established order shows wisdom and selflessness – qualities that will serve this kingdom well."

I felt a surge of gratitude toward him – not just for the defense itself, but for understanding without being told why I had made that choice. Our fingers brushed as he stepped back to my side, and we felt a spark – static from the dry air, but it jolted us nonetheless. The mate bond hummed between us, strengthened rather than weakened by this first public test.

"The council must be consulted on this matter," Minister Krea's voice rose from her position near the column, each word precisely enunciated to mask her clear displeasure. "There are... protocols... for royal mate selection that have not been observed."

"The council exists to advise the crown, Minister Krea, not to dictate to it." Theo's reply was measured but firm. "But rest assured, the council will be fully briefed on these developments tomorrow morning. For tonight, we celebrate an unexpected blessing."

He turned slightly toward me, his amber eyes warm with an emotion that made my heart stutter in my chest. Then, in a gesture that sent another wave of whispers through the crowd, he lifted our joined hands and pressed his lips to my knuckles. The simple action – at once both public declaration and private affirmation – spoke volumes about how he intended our partnership to proceed.

"Please, continue enjoying the evening," he said to the gathering, his tone lightening though his authority remained unmistakable. "My mate and I will be circulating to speak with as many of you as possible."

As the formal announcement concluded, the paralysis that had gripped the crowd began to thaw. People shifted uncertainly, some moving toward us with cautious congratulations while others retreated to corner tables, heads bent in urgent conversation. The division was clear – those willing to at least consider this unprecedented change, and those already plotting to undermine it.

"That went better than expected," Christian murmured as he moved to stand beside his brother. "Only two public challenges and minimal calls for council intervention. I'd call that a win."

"The night is young," Elijah replied, his voice pitched for our ears alone. "And words spoken in haste are often gentler than plots formed in silence."

I nodded, scanning the room with newfound awareness. As gamma, I had been trained to identify threats to the pack's security. Now I found myself applying those same skills to this glittering ballroom, recognizing potential dangers in tight clusters of whispering Lycans and calculating gazes fixed on Theo and me.

Benjamin had disappeared from his position against the wall, though I couldn't spot him elsewhere in the room. His absence concerned me more than his presence would have – what moves might he be making outside our sight?

Theo's hand settled against the small of my back, warm and steady. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice soft with genuine concern.

I drew a deep breath, taking stock of myself. My fingers still trembled slightly, but my spine remained straight. The title of Queen still felt like an ill-fitting garment, yet Artemis's joy at finally standing in her true power had begun to seep into my human consciousness, lending me a strength I hadn't known I possessed.

"I'm standing," I replied honestly. "That's enough for now."

His smile in response – quiet, understanding, tinged with pride – warmed something deep within me. Not the uncomfortable heat of anxiety I'd felt earlier, but something steadier, more sustaining. The heat of purpose, perhaps. Or possibly, despite everything, hope.