76: Emma

A somber note touched our small circle at the mention of those who'd conspired against us. Minister Krea, Minister Stavros, Minister Bennett, Lord Cassius, and the two Alphas – Benjamin Thorne and Michael Barker – had formed an alliance to prevent the strengthening of Lycan-werewolf relations. My kidnapping had been their desperate attempt to force a wedge between our species, using an ancient law that would have prevented Theo from mating me if another's mark had been forced upon me first.

"They'll face justice," Theo said, his voice carrying the weight of his position. "A public trial, transparent and fair. We need to show everyone that such actions won't be tolerated, regardless of one's status or species."

Elijah nodded in agreement. "It sends a strong message. Intimidation and prejudice have no place in the united realm you're building."

I felt a swell of pride at Theo's commitment to fairness. In the short time I'd known him, his dedication to bridging the divide between our kinds had been unwavering. It was one of the many reasons my wolf had recognized him so quickly – his heart matched the strength of his position.

A server approached, bowing deeply before addressing us. "Your Majesties, Alpha Maxwell, Luna Maxwell. Is there anything you require?"

Theo glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes. It was a small gesture, but meaningful – the most powerful Lycan in the realm, deferring to my preference.

"We're fine, thank you," I answered, the formal words still awkward on my tongue.

As the server withdrew, Chris leaned forward. "You're getting more comfortable, Emma. Soon you'll be terrifying the staff as effectively as our mother did."

I blanched. "That's not my goal."

"He's teasing," Theo assured me, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist in small, soothing circles. "Though you do command respect naturally. It's one of your many qualities that make you perfect for this role."

The conversation drifted to lighter topics – discussions of pack territories, hunting grounds, and the upcoming seasonal celebrations. I found myself relaxing incrementally, the formality of the setting softening around the edges as our small family group created an island of genuine interaction amidst the political posturing.

Throughout the evening, Theo's attentiveness never wavered. He seemed attuned to my every shift in mood, offering quiet explanations for unfamiliar customs or simply letting his knee press against mine beneath the table when conversations grew tense. For someone raised in the rigid formality of royal protocol, he moved through intimacy with surprising ease.

As dessert was served – some elaborate confection of dark chocolate and berries – I caught Theo watching me, his amber eyes warm with an emotion I was still learning to name.

"What?" I asked softly.

"Just admiring my queen," he replied, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "And thinking how fortunate I am that you didn't let Benjamin Thorne tear out your throat."

I choked on my dessert, caught between laughter and horror at his matter-of-fact reference to what had nearly been my death. "You have a strange way of expressing gratitude."

His fingers brushed mine, and I felt a spark – not static, but something deeper, a connection that hummed between us like a plucked string. "I have many ways of expressing gratitude," he murmured, the promise in his voice making my breath catch. "Some best demonstrated in private."

Across the table, Chris made a show of covering his ears. "Lycan hearing, brother. Some thoughts should remain unspoken in mixed company."

Elena laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. "Leave them be, Chris. Young love deserves some leeway."

"Young?" I questioned, glancing at Theo. "He's nearly two centuries old."

"A mere youth by royal Lycan standards," Elijah commented. "Don’t forget, baby sis, our father was Alpha for over three hundred years before passing the mantle to me."

The casual reminder of the vast difference in our lifespans – Lycans living to 500 years compared to werewolves' 400 – might have unsettled me once. Now it felt like a gift, more time with the man whose presence had become essential to my happiness in such a short span.

As the evening progressed, I found myself observing Theo in the moments when his attention was elsewhere – noting the slight crease between his brows when he concentrated, the way his fingers absently traced patterns on the tablecloth as he listened, the careful way he crafted his responses to ensure no one felt dismissed. He carried the mantle of leadership with such natural grace that it was easy to forget how isolating such power could be.

Perhaps that was why our connection had formed so rapidly and with such intensity. We both understood the weight of responsibility, the need to balance personal desires against the greater good. And in each other, we'd found someone who saw beyond the titles to the person beneath.

When his gaze returned to mine, catching me in my observation, his smile held a tenderness that made my heart constrict. In the space of a week, this man had become the centre of my world – not through magic or destiny, though those played their parts, but through his actions, his character, his unwavering support.

"Shall we retire soon?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, suddenly aware of the fatigue seeping into my bones. Recent events had depleted reserves I hadn't known I possessed. "Yes, I think that would be wise."

As we made our excuses and prepared to leave, Chris stood and offered a formal bow that somehow managed to be both proper and teasing. "Rest well, Your Majesties. May your dreams be... peaceful."

I rolled my eyes at his implication, but Theo merely clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Goodnight, Chris. Try to avoid causing an international incident until morning, at least."

As we moved toward the exit, the room once again falling into bows and murmured honorifics, I felt Theo's steady presence beside me like a promise – one more enduring than the golden crown he wore, more binding than the titles we now shared. In the midst of politics and prejudice, protocols and responsibilities, we had found each other. And that, perhaps, was the most revolutionary act of all.