89: Emma

I barely had a moment to catch my breath before the fifth dignitary approached—a werewolf this time, Alpha Raymond of the Sierra Pack, known for his strategic political alliances with Lycan nobility.

"Your Majesty," he said, his bow deep but controlled. Unlike the Lycans, his eyes held something I recognized—the wariness of our kind, the learned caution of generations who'd survived by reading the room correctly.

"Alpha Raymond," I acknowledged, allowing him to lead me into the dance.

"I won't waste your time with false flattery," he said quietly as we moved across the floor. "We both know the game being played tonight."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what game is that?"

"The scramble to curry favour with the new queen before she decides who stays and who goes." His mouth curved into a wry smile. "I'm playing it too, just more honestly than most."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping before I could contain it. "Your honesty is refreshing, if nothing else."

"All I ask is that you remember the packs that have stood by your family when it wasn't politically expedient to do so." His expression grew serious. "The Blood Moon Pack has always had allies, even when it seemed you didn't."

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the music.

"I believe this is my dance," Elijah said, appearing at my side with perfect timing.

Alpha Raymond nodded respectfully, stepping back. "Of course, Alpha Maxwell. Your Majesty—" he bowed to me once more, "—it was an honour."

As Elijah took his place, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Your timing is impeccable."

He grinned, the expression so familiar it made my heart ache with sudden homesickness, even though he was right here. "You looked like you needed saving. There's only so many times a person can hear forced compliments when the individual is clearly just worried you'll fire them."

I laughed, the sound genuine this time. "God, exactly. It's like they think I can't see right through them. 'I've always been an advocate for werewolf rights!' says the man who publicly argued against allowing werewolves in the Royal Library"

Elijah chuckled, guiding me through a turn with the easy familiarity of someone who'd been forced to practice dancing with his little sister for countless pack functions. "They're terrified. You've upended their entire world order. You were a werewolf they could ignore or patronize. Today you're their queen."

"It's exhausting," I admitted. "All these people who wouldn't give me the time of day now want private meetings and 'just a moment of your valuable time, Your Majesty.'"

"Get used to it," he said, his smile softening. "You're going to be an amazing Queen, Em. Mom and Dad would be so unbelievably proud of you."

My eyes welled up unexpectedly, the mention of our parents catching me off guard. The ache of their absence never truly faded, just changed shape over the years. "You think so?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended. "I hope I can do them proud."

Elijah's arms tightened around me slightly, a familiar gesture of comfort. "You do every day, little sis," he said, his own voice roughened with emotion. "Every single day. They always knew you were meant for something extraordinary. I think even they would be surprised by this particular path, but not by your ability to walk it with grace."

I blinked back tears, not wanting to break down in the middle of the ballroom. "I miss them. Especially on days like this."

"Me too," he said simply. "But they're here, Em. In us, in everything we do."

The music began to change again, and I felt a warm presence at my back even before Theo spoke.

"I'd very much like to steal my mate back," he said, his voice laced with affection rather than demand.

Elijah smiled, stepping back to enfold me in a quick, fierce hug before releasing me directly into Theo's waiting arms. "Take good care of her," he said to Theo, though the words carried no warning—just the easy trust of one leader to another.

"Always," Theo promised, his arm slipping around my waist as if it belonged there.

Elijah glanced across the room, and I followed his gaze to where Elena stood trapped in conversation with an elderly lord whose jowls quivered with every emphatic point he made. Her eyes were glazed with the peculiar desperation of someone enduring a particularly tedious conversation, darting occasionally to the exits as if calculating an escape route.

"I'd better go save Elena from whatever awful conversation she's caught in," Elijah said, already moving in her direction.

I laughed as I watched him stride purposefully toward his mate, whose eyes were all but screaming 'help me.' The moment she spotted Elijah, her face transformed with such naked relief that I had to stifle another laugh.

"Your brother is a good man," Theo said, offering his arm as the elderly lord turned his attention to a passing waiter, allowing Elijah to swoop in and extract Elena.

"The best," I agreed, tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow. "Though I might be biased."

Theo smiled down at me, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the chandeliers above. "Shall we make the rounds? There are several ministers and pack leaders I'd like you to meet—ones who haven't been scrambling for dances."

We began our circuit of the ballroom, moving from group to group with measured pace. Theo's hand never left the small of my back, a constant reassurance as we navigated the political waters together.

Minister Chen of Public Works bowed deeply when we approached, her expression open and interested as she discussed infrastructure projects that would benefit both Lycan and werewolf communities. "The dual-access designs have shown remarkable success in the northern territories," she explained, her hands animated as she described ramps and pathways that accommodated both bipedal and quadrupedal movement for facilities likely to be accessed in animal form.

Lord and Lady Blackwood, ancient Lycans whose family lines stretched back to the kingdom's founding, greeted me with genuine warmth that caught me by surprise. "The old ways aren't always the best ways," Lord Blackwood said, his voice creaky with age but firm with conviction. "Change keeps the blood fresh."

Alpha Serena of the Crescent Moon Pack approached with her Luna, both women offering me the traditional werewolf greeting—a slight incline of the head that acknowledged leadership without submission. "The packs have waited generations for this moment," Alpha Serena said quietly. "Not just a seat at the table, but a hand in shaping it."

With each introduction, each conversation, I felt something settling within me—the mantle of responsibility, yes, but also the potential for real change. Theo and I moved as a unit, our responses complementing each other, our visions aligning even when our perspectives differed.

"You're a natural," Theo murmured as we paused for a moment between conversations, champagne flutes in hand. "They respect you already."

"Some of them," I corrected, nodding subtly toward a cluster of Lycan nobles who were watching us with thinly veiled disapproval.

Theo followed my gaze and sighed. "You can't win everyone overnight. But you don't need to. You just need to be exactly who you are—steady, compassionate, and impossible to intimidate."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you see me?"

His smile was slow, intimate, entirely inappropriate for a public setting. "Among other things."

Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading upward to my cheeks. The marking bond between us hummed with shared emotion—desire, affection, and a deeper current of partnership that transcended both.

"Your Majesties," a voice interrupted, and we turned to find Minister Davis of Education approaching, a young Lycan woman at his side. "Might I introduce my daughter? She's recently completed her thesis on dual-species educational integration, and I believe her findings would interest you both greatly."

As the conversation resumed, I caught Theo watching me with unmistakable pride in his eyes. We still had mountains to climb—prejudices to dismantle, prisoners to interrogate, justice to dispense, a kingdom to reshape. But in that moment, with his steady presence beside me and the subtle shifts already evident in the room around us, I allowed myself to believe that change was not just possible, but inevitable.

The first steps of that change were being danced across a ballroom floor, one carefully choreographed movement at a time.