48: Theodore

I stared into my coffee, watching the steam curl upward in the still morning air of the hotel dining room. The diplomatic smile I'd worn through breakfast with Christian had begun to ache at the corners, like a mask worn too long. Beyond the window, dawn painted the sky in royal purples—my colours, the Kingdom's colours—but my thoughts were tangled in a web of politics and the lingering scent of my mate who had yet to join us.

"The younger generation is thrilled," Christian said. My brother's voice carried that official tone he adopted when delivering reports, though the casual setting of our breakfast table softened it somewhat. "They're calling it the beginning of a new era. Social media is awash with support—particularly from the progressive circles."

I nodded, letting the rim of my coffee cup rest against my lower lip. "And the traditionalists?"

"Exactly as expected." Christian's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Public statements of cautious support, private grumbling about bloodlines and tradition. Though I must say, several of the older Council members who've worked with Emma seem genuinely pleased. Her competence has earned their respect, even if they're still processing the... unorthodox nature of your match."

"Unorthodox," I echoed, tasting the word like a bitter herb. "A polite term for what they're really thinking."

The weight of 175 years pressed against my shoulders—not old for a Lycan, particularly not for royalty, but old enough to understand the delicate architecture of our society. Emma wasn't just a werewolf; she was gamma to her pack. The distance between our worlds could be measured in status, in form, in centuries of prejudice disguised as tradition.

Christian reached across the table, his fingers briefly touching my wrist. "They'll adapt, Theo. Change doesn't happen in a day, even with a royal decree."

"And the wolves?" I asked, the question that had been gnawing at me since I'd felt Emma accept our mate bond. Her pack's opinion mattered more than she would admit.

"Other than the group loyal to the Queen's first mate?" Christian's eyebrow arched. "They seem genuinely pleased. Some even see it as long-overdue recognition of their equal standing."

A familiar ache bloomed behind my ribs—not pain exactly, but awareness. Through our newly formed bond, I could sense Emma somewhere in the hotel, her emotions a gentle current of fond exasperation. She was talking to Liam, then. Her emotions always carried that particular flavour when dealing with the young wolf.

"It won't always be easy," I said, more to myself than to Christian.

"The path worth taking rarely is," he replied, with the kind of philosophical calm that had always made him an excellent advisor.

The quiet clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations around us created a soothing backdrop to our discussion. The hotel staff moved with practiced efficiency, their gazes sliding over us with the careful neutrality of those accustomed to serving powerful guests.

"Your Majesty." Elijah's voice drew my attention to the entrance where he stood with Elena at his side. The Blood Moon Alpha's formal address was softened by the warmth in his eyes—my mate's brother, now my brother by bond.

I gestured to the empty chairs at our table. "Please join us. And it's just Theo to family."

Elijah's mouth quirked as he pulled out a chair for Elena before taking his own seat. "Old habits. It’s not every day my sister mates with the King of the realm."

A server approached, pouring coffee for the newcomers with a bow that was just a fraction too deep—the telltale sign of someone uncertain whether to follow werewolf or Lycan etiquette. The momentary awkwardness passed as quickly as it had come, but it underscored the adjustments still to come.

"No Emma yet?" Elijah glanced at the empty seat beside me, the one I'd been unconsciously keeping free.

I shook my head. "From what she and Artemis are feeling right now, she's talking to Liam."

Elena's expression softened. "How is it, feeling her wolf too?"

"Disconcerting," I admitted. "But fascinating. Artemis feels... different from Emma. More primal, protective. Sometimes I can't tell where one ends and the other begins."

Elijah nodded with understanding that could only come from a bonded wolf. "That's exactly it. They're separate and the same, like two melodies playing in counterpoint."

"Liam is a good kid," Elijah continued, reaching for the coffee pot. "He's always been Emma's protégé. One day he'll be a formidable gamma himself, after she—" He paused, his expression flickering with the realization that Emma's future had irrevocably changed.

"After she becomes Queen," I finished for him. The title still felt strange when applied to Emma, not because she wasn't worthy of it, but because of all it would demand of her.

"So the Queen has been unknowingly training her replacement all these years?" Christian asked, his diplomatic skills smoothing over the momentary tension.

Elijah nodded with a small smile. "I guess so. Emma has always had an eye for potential. She spotted Liam's skills when he was barely more than a pup."

I opened my mouth to reply when something shifted inside me—a cold sliver of fear that wasn't mine slid between my ribs, followed by a wave of disbelief that made my fingers tighten around my coffee cup. The bond between Emma and me, still new and raw, suddenly flared with emotions so strong they briefly overwhelmed my own.

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "Something's wrong with Emma."