45: Emma

The crowd continued to shift around us, some drawing closer while others maintained distance. The night stretched ahead with uncertain terrain to navigate – judgments to face, alliances to build, threats to identify. But for this moment, with Theo's hand steady against my back and my brother and his mate flanking us protectively, I found I could breathe again.

One step at a time, as Elena had said. The crown that awaited me – both literal and figurative – would take adjusting to. But as I stood beside Theo in the centre of that watchful ballroom, I realized that perhaps I was not so unprepared for this role as I had feared. I had survived Benjamin. I had served my pack faithfully despite hiding my true nature. I had found the courage to accept a second chance at a mate bond when every instinct screamed to protect myself.

Queen Emeline Maxwell. The title still sounded foreign to my ears, but perhaps, given time, I could grow into it. And perhaps, given even more time, this kingdom could grow into the vision Theo had been working toward – a place where Lycan and werewolf stood as equals, where ancient prejudices gave way to new understanding.

It wouldn't be easy. The hostile faces surrounding us made that abundantly clear. But as Theo squeezed my hand gently, his amber eyes meeting mine with quiet determination, I found myself thinking that the most important things rarely were.

I moved through the ballroom on Theo's arm, acutely aware of the eyes tracking our every movement. The weight of the crown wasn't yet on my head, but I could feel its phantom pressure—the expectations, the scrutiny, the disbelief radiating from those around us. My fingers tingled where they rested against Theo's sleeve, but I felt a warmth in my chest, no longer just the uncomfortable heat of anxiety but something steadier, more sustaining. The heat of purpose, perhaps. Or possibly, despite everything, hope.

"Alpha Donovan is approaching," Theo murmured, his lips barely moving. "With what appears to be his entire delegation."

I followed his gaze to see the Eclipse Moon Alpha moving toward us with purposeful strides, flanked by his Beta and several high-ranking pack members. Their expressions were carefully neutral, but I caught the subtle flicker of uncertainty in their eyes as they drew closer.

"Your Majesties," Donovan said, the plural form of address sending a jolt through me. He bowed deeply, his pack following suit. When he straightened, his weathered face held a cautious smile. "I wanted to be the first to formally acknowledge your union."

A strategic move, I realized. By publicly aligning himself with us, Donovan was making a statement to the other pack Alphas—and positioning Eclipse Moon favourably with the crown. The political animal in me approved of his swift adaptation; the woman still reeling from her sudden elevation appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you, Alpha Donovan," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the strangeness of accepting acknowledgment as Queen. "Your support means a great deal."

"We werewolves understand the sanctity of the mate bond better than most," he said, his gaze flicking meaningfully toward a cluster of disapproving Lycans across the room. "The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes in her pairings."

"No, she doesn't," Theo agreed, his hand coming to rest at the small of my back—a gesture both protective and claiming that did not go unnoticed by those watching. "Though sometimes her timing can be... unexpected."

Donovan's chuckle held genuine warmth. "The best gifts often are, Your Majesty."

As we continued our conversation with the Eclipse Moon delegation, I became aware of a subtle shift in the room's dynamics. Like stones dropping into still water, our interaction with Donovan created ripples that spread outward, influencing the calculations of every observer. Some pack Alphas began drifting in our direction, clearly deciding that alignment with the new reality was preferable to resistance. Others withdrew further, their expressions darkening as they huddled with like-minded traditionalists.

The political dance had begun in earnest.

"Alpha Maxwell," a familiar voice called, and I turned to find Minister Halloway approaching, his expression calm despite the tension vibrating through the ballroom. "Or should I say, Your Majesty?"

"I'm still adjusting to the title myself," I admitted, finding unexpected relief in the small honesty.

Minister Halloway's smile reached his emerald eyes, crinkling the corners with genuine warmth. "Understandable. Few have made such a dramatic transition in a single evening." He bowed with precise protocol, then straightened to address us both. "Your Majesties, I wished to extend my congratulations. The security council stands ready to serve the crown—both of you."

The deliberate inclusion wasn't lost on me. Unlike Minister Krea's barely concealed hostility, Halloway's acceptance seemed sincere. I studied him more carefully, trying to identify his motivation. Political opportunism? Genuine progressivism? Something else entirely?

"That's most appreciated, Minister," Theo replied, his tone warm but measured. "Perhaps you might join us tomorrow to discuss the integration of werewolf security protocols with our existing systems? Queen Emeline's expertise would be invaluable to your council."

The strategic brilliance of the suggestion struck me immediately. By positioning me as a contributor rather than an outsider, Theo was establishing my legitimate role in governance from the outset. Halloway recognized it too, his eyes flickering with appreciation for the deft maneuver.

"It would be my honour," the minister replied with another bow. "The crown's security is paramount, and fresh perspectives are always valuable."

As Halloway withdrew, I caught sight of Benjamin across the room. He stood with a small group of Alphas, his head bent in intense conversation, his eyes occasionally flicking toward me with undisguised malice. The sight of him still triggered a primitive fear response—my heart rate quickening, my muscles tensing in remembered pain. But the wave of panic that would have once overwhelmed me remained manageable, held at bay by Theo's steady presence and the newfound strength of standing in my full Alpha nature.

"He's gathering allies," I murmured to Theo, a slight nod indicating Benjamin without drawing attention to my observation.

Theo's gaze followed mine, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly. "Yes," he agreed, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "Though not as many as he'd hoped, I think. Most of the pack Alphas are too pragmatic to align themselves against their new Queen."

"Some will," I said, watching as a Northern Pack Alpha leaned in to listen to whatever poison Benjamin was spreading. "Those who already resented Blood Moon's status, or who have personal vendettas against Elijah or I."

"Let them," Theo replied, his confidence steady rather than arrogant. "Political opposition I can handle. It's the personal threat he represents to you that concerns me more."

The simple acknowledgment of Benjamin as a threat—not dismissed or minimized as others had done in the past—sent a wave of gratitude through me. Theo understood without being told that my former mate's danger wasn't just political but deeply personal, a lingering shadow that hung over us.