88: Emma

"I think Minister Devereux has been waiting for precisely three dances to approach you," Theo murmured against my temple, nodding subtly toward a tall, silver-haired Lycan watching us from the edge of the dance floor. "He's been checking his pocket watch."

I laughed despite myself. "Has he really?"

"Mm. The ministers not currently occupying cells have developed a sudden, passionate interest in dance. I count at least seven eyeing you like you're the last piece of cake at a birthday party."

As if on cue, the music shifted to a new melody, and Theo stepped back, offering me a formal bow that was undercut by the mischievous glint in his eye. "I believe I'm about to be overthrown by my own council. Try not to replace me while I'm gone."

Before I could protest, Minister Devereux appeared at my side, his tall frame bent in an elaborate bow. "Your Majesty, might I have the honour?"

I caught Theo's amused glance as he retreated, leaving me with the Minister of Agriculture, a Lycan who, until yesterday, had barely acknowledged my existence.

"Of course, Minister," I said. "I'd be delighted."

His hands were cool and dry against mine as we began to move across the floor. He held me at a respectful distance, as if afraid the proximity might somehow contaminate him. The thought almost made me smile.

"Your Majesty, I must say, the ballroom has never seemed so radiant," he began, his voice carrying a practiced smoothness. "The marking has clearly agreed with you."

"Thank you, Minister. You're very kind." I kept my face pleasant, neutral. The diplomatic mask I'd been cultivating slid into place with surprising ease.

"I've always admired the Blood Moon Pack's commitment to tradition," he continued, clearly building to something. "And I've been a longtime supporter of closer Lycan-werewolf relations."

I bit back a laugh. Just last month, I'd overheard him arguing vehemently against expanding werewolf representation on agricultural committees. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. In fact, I've several proposals I believe would interest you greatly. Perhaps we might arrange a private meeting to discuss them?"

And there it was. The angle, the play, the real reason behind the dance and compliments. I smiled, feeling the weight of my new power settle more comfortably on my shoulders. "I look forward to reviewing all proposals through the proper channels, Minister. His Majesty and I value transparency in governance."

His step faltered slightly, but he recovered with practiced grace. "Of course, Your Majesty. I merely thought—"

"That I might be more malleable than my mate?" I finished for him, my voice honey-sweet. "A misconception."

The music mercifully ended before he could respond, and he bowed deeply, murmuring platitudes about the honour of the dance as he retreated.

I barely had time to catch my breath before another dignitary appeared—Lord Haversmith, an ancient Lycan with tufted white eyebrows and a perpetual expression of having smelled something unpleasant.

"Your Majesty," he intoned, his bow minimal, just enough to be considered polite. "Might an old friend of the crown request a dance?"

Friend was a generous term for a man who I knew had openly questioned my suitability at council meetings, but I extended my hand with practiced grace. "Certainly, my lord."

His hand at my waist felt possessive, his grip slightly too tight as he guided me through the steps. "I must congratulate you on your… elevation," he said, the pause before the final word subtle but unmistakable. "It must be quite the adjustment, for someone of your background."

I met his gaze squarely, refusing to be cowed. "Change is the one constant in life, wouldn't you agree, Lord Haversmith? Those who adapt tend to thrive."

His bushy eyebrows drew together. "Indeed. Though some changes are more... significant than others. From pack gamma to queen is quite the leap."

"No more significant than the leap your own grandfather made, from merchant to lord," I replied smoothly. "Adaptation runs in many bloodlines, it seems."

The muscles in his jaw tightened, but he managed a thin smile. "You've been studying our histories. How... commendable."

"Knowledge is a queen's greatest asset, or so I'm told." The music shifted again, and I stepped back with perfectly timed precision. "Thank you for the dance."

He had no choice but to bow and retreat, though his eyes promised this wouldn't be our last encounter.

The third dignitary was smoother—a diplomatic envoy from a neighbouring kingdom, with silver-streaked dark hair and a genuine smile that almost made me let my guard down. Almost.

"Your Majesty," he said, his bow elegant and practiced. "Ambassador Renier, at your service. May I say what an honour it is to witness history in the making? King Theodore's vision for unity becomes more tangible with each passing day."

I allowed him to lead me into the dance, noting how he maintained a respectful distance while still appearing engaged. "You're too kind, Ambassador. Though I believe history is made daily, by all of us, in ways large and small."

"Wisely said." His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "Your perspective brings fresh air to these ancient halls. Many of us in the diplomatic corps have long hoped for the kind of change King Theodore champions."

I wanted to believe him. His words lacked the underlying strain of insincerity I'd detected in the others. But I'd lived too long in a world where words and intentions rarely aligned perfectly.

"And what changes do you hope to see, Ambassador?" I asked, genuinely curious.

His expression grew thoughtful. "Equal justice under law would be a start. Too long have our legal systems bent toward Lycan advantage. And educational opportunities that recognize talent regardless of species."

"Noble goals," I agreed, studying him. "Though often easier said than implemented."

"True change is never easy, Your Majesty. But necessary things rarely are." The music began to fade, and he bowed once more. "I hope we might continue this conversation another time. Your insights would be valuable to our ongoing work."

I found myself nodding, a genuine smile forming. "I'd like that, Ambassador."

The fourth dignitary swept in almost before the Ambassador had fully stepped away—Minister Caldwell of Interior Affairs, a stocky Lycan with a booming voice that he'd somehow managed to modulate to a more appropriate volume.

"Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, executing a bow so low I feared he might topple forward. "What an extraordinary honour! Truly extraordinary!"

His enthusiasm was exhausting before we'd even begun to dance. His hand at my waist was damp with perspiration, and he kept missing steps while trying to maintain eye contact.

"I've been an advocate for werewolf integration for years, you know," he said, narrowly avoiding stepping on my toes. "Years! Ask anyone! Progressive policies have always been my passion!"

I smiled tightly. "How fortunate for the kingdom to have such forward-thinking leadership."

"Indeed! Indeed!" He beamed, completely missing my deadpan delivery. "I've drafted several proposals that I believe would be of great interest to you, considering your... unique perspective."

The same play, different actor. "How thoughtful. I look forward to reviewing them through the proper channels."

His face fell slightly, but rallied quickly. "Of course, of course! Though perhaps a preliminary discussion might—"

"Minister Caldwell," I interrupted gently, "in the interest of transparency, all policy discussions should include both myself and the King, don't you agree?"

He swallowed visibly. "Absolutely, Your Majesty. Absolutely."

The dance mercifully ended, and I suppressed a sigh of relief as he backed away, still bobbing in half-bows.