75: Emma

Theo's thumb brushed across my knuckles, a small gesture of support. "Ready to face the wolves?" he murmured, his eyes twinkling with humour at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress my smile. "Born ready," I replied, taking a deep breath and stepping forward to rejoin the gathering, my hand firmly in his.

I stepped back into the dining room beside Theo, the weight of a hundred gazes falling on us like autumn leaves – gentle but impossible to ignore. His hand rested at the small of my back, a warm anchor in the sea of formality that stretched before us. The low murmur of conversation dimmed as heads bowed in our direction, a gesture that still felt foreign against my skin after only a week of this new life. A queen. Me. The thought clung to my mind like morning dew, beautiful but destined to evaporate under the heat of reality.

The grand dining hall of The Golden Compass gleamed under the honeyed light of crystal chandeliers, their facets catching and splintering the glow into a thousand tiny stars that danced across marble columns. The air tasted of roasted meats, fragrant spices, and the lingering notes of expensive perfumes – all undercut by the unmistakable scent of power. Subtle. Intoxicating. Dangerous.

"Breathe," Theo whispered, his lips barely moving as we moved between the tables. "They're just people."

"People who bow to us," I muttered back, forcing my spine straighter. "They've been bowing to you for over a century. I was a pack Gamma last week."

His fingers pressed gently against my back, the pressure both reassurance and possession. "And now you're my queen."

My heart stuttered like a bird caught in unexpected rain. After everything – the kidnapping, Benjamin Thorne's attempt to force his mark on me, the violence that followed – these small moments of tenderness with Theo still caught me off guard. We'd known each other only a week, yet the bond between us hummed like an ancient melody.

"Your Majesties," a serving attendant murmured as we passed, her eyes downcast. The title slid over me like an ill-fitting coat.

We made our way toward the bar at the far end of the room, where Christian  leaned with practiced nonchalance. His amber eyes, so similar to Theo's yet lighter, more mischievous, sparkled with poorly concealed amusement. He cradled a crystal tumbler of amber liquid that caught the light as he swirled it.

"There you are," Chris drawled, his knowing grin spreading slowly across his face like spilled honey. His gaze flicked between us, and I fought the urge to check if my hair was mussed or my lipstick smeared. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

Theo's posture shifted beside me, his shoulder angling slightly forward. Not protective, exactly, but territorial in a way that sent a warm curl of something primal through my belly.

"What do you want, brother?" Theo raised one eyebrow, his voice carrying the easy command that came from nearly two centuries of royal bearing.

Chris raised his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "Nothing at all. Just wanted to make sure my brother and his mate were okay." His emphasis on "mate" carried weighted implications that made heat rise to my cheeks. "You disappeared rather suddenly."

"We're fine, Chris," I said, forcing evenness into my voice. The bar's polished surface felt cool beneath my fingertips as I steadied myself against it. A bartender approached, but Theo waved him away with a subtle gesture.

"Figured as much," Chris replied, his voice dipping lower as he leaned in. "Though there are several ministers nearly apoplectic that the king vanished without his security detail." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Of course, we all know you can handle yourself, Emma.”

I turned to find my brother Elijah approaching with Elena at his side. Both wore identical expressions of barely contained amusement. Elijah – always the composed Alpha – looked particularly smug, his green eyes dancing with the same knowing look I'd seen on Chris's face.

"Oh goddess, not you two as well," I groaned, reaching for the glass of water a bartender had quietly placed before me.

Elijah's laugh rumbled like distant thunder. "I don't know what you mean, little sister." He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay. You've been through a lot."

Elena nodded beside him, her honey-blonde hair catching the light. "That's all," she agreed, though the slight quirk of her lips betrayed her.

The intimacy of family teasing mixed uncomfortably with the formality of our surroundings. Several nearby dignitaries watched our little group with undisguised curiosity, no doubt wondering what the werewolf sister of an Alpha was doing with the Lycan king. Despite the Summit's purpose of bringing our species together, centuries of prejudice didn't dissolve in a week. Or even in the century of progressive policies Theo had implemented.

I turned away from their stares, burying my face against Theo's chest. His heartbeat pulsed strong and steady beneath my cheek, and his scent – pine and smoke and something indefinably ancient – wrapped around me like a shield.

"I want the floor to swallow me up," I mumbled into the fine fabric of his suit.

Theo's chest vibrated with a soft laugh. His arms encircled me, one hand cradling the back of my head. "I told you you're adorable," he murmured, his lips pressing against my hair.

I tilted my head back, raising one eyebrow in challenge. Our height difference meant I had to look up to meet his eyes, which only enhanced the power he naturally exuded. "Adorable?" I whispered, my voice carrying a hint of warning.

He bent lower, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, "The fiercest, deadliest, most adorable wolf queen in history."

A shiver traced my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. My wolf – white-furred and wild – stirred within me, preening under his praise. The dual nature of his compliment perfectly captured how he saw me: both gentle and dangerous, soft and sharp.

"Better," I conceded, allowing a small smile.

Elijah cleared his throat, reminding me we weren't alone. "Perhaps we should return to our table," he suggested. "The delegation from the Northern Territories is eager to meet you both."

I reluctantly stepped back from Theo's embrace, though his hand found mine immediately, our fingers interlacing. The weight of his gold signet ring pressed against my fingers – another symbol of everything that had changed.

"Emma," Elena said softly, falling into step beside me as we began moving toward our table. "Are you truly alright? All teasing aside, what happened with Benjamin Thorne..." She let the sentence hang, heavy with concern.

I squeezed her hand with my free one. "I'm adjusting," I answered honestly. "It's a lot to process. Being kidnapped, nearly forced into a bond, being rescued, and of course, before all that, there was the finding out I'm destined to be the Lycan queen thing – all in the span of a week."

Elena's eyes softened. "You're handling it remarkably well."

"Am I?" I glanced around at the opulent room, at the people who now bowed to me, at the man whose hand held mine as though it was the most precious thing in the world. "Sometimes I feel like I'm walking through a dream. Or someone else's life."

"Not someone else's," Theo interjected quietly, proving his Lycan hearing was sharp enough to catch our whispered conversation. "Precisely your life. The one you were meant for."

His words settled over me like a mantle – both comfort and responsibility woven together.

As we approached our designated table, I noticed how the room seemed to orient around Theo, like flowers turning toward the sun. His presence commanded attention without effort, yet there was nothing arrogant in his bearing. He carried his power as naturally as breathing.

Chris slid into a seat across from us, his eyes still sparkling with mischief. "So, what's next on the royal agenda? A speech about unity? Or a demonstration of how Lycans and werewolves can come together?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Theo shot him a warning look. "There's still time to have you imprisoned alongside our other… problems, brother."

"You wouldn't," Chris grinned, unrepentant. "Who else would keep you humble?"

I found myself laughing despite everything. There was something refreshingly normal about their banter, a familial connection that transcended politics and power. It reminded me of my own relationship with Elijah – the comfort of someone who knew you without the titles and responsibilities that shaped your public image.

"I think we've had enough excitement for one Summit," I said, tracing the rim of my water glass with my fingertip. "Four ministers, two Alphas and a doctor in cells awaiting trial seems sufficient."