Chapter 113

I stepped onto the balcony, allowing the crisp morning breeze to brush against my face. The sun was rising slowly, casting a golden glow across the flawless sky. It should have been the start of a beautiful day, but I found no joy in it. My heart felt unbearably heavy, a weight I struggled to carry within my chest.

Clarity had finally settled over me, sharper than ever before—how foolishly naive I had been. Hadrian and Selene were not just husband and wife; they were king and queen. Meanwhile, I barely held the precarious title of "respectable" mistress. If a royal prince from the human world had ever asked for my hand, it would have been obvious that I was far beneath him and could never hope to be queen. So why had I convinced myself it would be any different with Hadrian? I had clung to the idealistic belief that "love conquers all," but my life had always strayed far from romantic fantasy.

I wanted to believe in Hadrian, to trust that he would soon make me his queen. But how much longer could I wait? My heart and mind were both painfully aware that by day, and in their shared bed, Hadrian belonged to Selene. And if not for the unwavering loyalty of the Royal Army, Selene would have ensured I remained hidden away, a prisoner in my own chambers, suffering humiliation at every turn. Hadrian's promises to protect me had always rung hollow, no matter how fiercely he swore them.

With every pang of heartache, I questioned whether I had the strength to keep fighting. Power had never been my goal. I held no deep allegiance to any race or nation. I fought only for my love for Hadrian, yet with each passing day, even that seemed to slip further from my grasp. Still, I clenched my fists and defiantly told myself that I had a right to happiness, a right to be with the man I loved. The problem was... I no longer knew if I had the right to claim him as my own.

For the first time, I kept my thoughts to myself, refusing to confide in Freya about what had transpired between Hadrian and me. She saw the sadness weighing on me but, mercifully, chose not to press. I was grateful for her quiet understanding. She simply offered me a warm smile and breakfast, mentioning that she would bring the dress Penrose had sent for the upcoming garden party. I forced a thank you, my face stiff and unwilling to shape itself into anything resembling a smile.

Desperate to escape my thoughts, I turned to the coded messages again, determined to crack as many as I could. This time, I focused solely on variations of the word "power" across different languages—French, Italian, Spanish. My instincts proved right; within an hour, I had unraveled their meanings.

But there was no triumph in my success. Selene's name was nowhere to be found, yet the implications were clear. If only I could get my hands on her replies—hidden, perhaps, within my father’s pack. But the likelihood of that happening seemed laughable at best.

One thing was certain—Selene had maintained steady communication with my father and his old Beta for years. I wished Penrose could wield her lie-detecting abilities on Selene; it would spare us the trouble. But accusing a newly crowned queen required more than mere suspicion; I needed irrefutable proof.

I carefully documented each decoded message, placing them back inside their box before burying myself in business articles and market reports. The less emotion, the better.

Later that evening, Freya brought me a black dress cover containing my gown for the party. I didn't bother looking at it; the thought of the event left me indifferent. Instead, I took an agonizingly long shower, hoping the water might cleanse me of the misery clinging to me. It didn't. After thirty minutes, I stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel and resigning to the fact that relief wasn't coming.

Blow-drying my black hair, I applied a minimal amount of makeup, not caring whether it matched the dress Penrose had chosen. But as I caught my reflection, I reconsidered, adding a thin line to my eyelids and a touch of mascara.

"Alright, Thalassa. Let's see what Penrose has in store for you this time," I muttered, unzipping the cover.

The sight of the gown made me jump back, letting it fall onto the bed as if it had burned me. Blinking rapidly, I stared at it again, laughter bubbling nervously from my lips. A silk bottle-green dress, designed to accentuate every curve, with a plunging neckline and two slits running along the sides—it wasn’t just similar to the one from my dream. It was the dress from my dream.

"Just a weird coincidence," I told myself, forcing a smile. "You know Penrose’s taste; she loves dressing you up like this. You probably imagined it because you’ve seen so many dresses like it before. That’s all."

Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the gown and gazed at my reflection. I looked both elegant and alluring, but I quickly pushed aside the thought of whether Hadrian would find me beautiful in it.

"I don’t care," I muttered defiantly, though the ache in my chest told me otherwise.

Shrugging on a light scarf, I left my chamber, heading towards the glowing garden. Lanterns illuminated the paths, and carpets covered the ground to protect the guests’ feet from the earth beneath. As I walked further, I spotted three lavishly set tables, their presence stirring an unsettling sense of familiarity.

"Just another coincidence..." I whispered, shaking off the lingering déjà vu and stepping forward into the night.

The werewolves of the Blue Moon Pack began to gather, and the vampires from the meeting were arriving as well. A strange unease settled over me. I even pinched myself, half-expecting to wake up from yet another nightmare.

"Thalassa, you may have superstrength, agility, and all those so-called 'super' abilities, but clairvoyance isn’t one of them," I chided myself inwardly, letting out a slow breath in an attempt to dispel my anxiety.

Suddenly, Kenzo appeared before me, his eyes scanning me with an all-too-familiar grin stretching across his face. Without hesitation, he took my hand and pressed a kiss to it.

"You look like every man's dream tonight, Thalassa," he said smoothly.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced a vague smile as he led me to my seat. He settled beside me, his presence unmistakable, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that he intended to play the role of my companion for the evening. He poured my wine, ensured I tasted the best dishes—even if it meant reaching across the table to serve me himself.

What had initially felt awkward soon turned into an unexpected distraction, something I silently welcomed. Anything was better than dwelling on Hadrian and Selene seated at the next table. The King and Queen were surrounded by high-ranking vampires, including my personal favorite—the late king's counselor. It was clear that formalities were merely a facade, as the werewolves had been seated apart from the royals, an intentional act of exclusion. I had no doubt it was Selene’s doing. Seating arrangements like this had her fingerprints all over them. After all, I, a mere human, had been placed among the wolves.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Penrose, sitting stiffly beside Gareth at the King’s table. Her displeasure at being so close to Selene was evident, though, for Hadrian’s sake, she kept herself in check. Meanwhile, Varen had secured a seat near the royals—a strategic move by Selene to maintain the illusion of sibling harmony.

Alpha Kenzo, however, seemed entirely unfazed by the seating arrangements. If anything, he appeared pleased. Throughout dinner, he worked tirelessly to keep my attention, but no matter how charming his efforts, I found myself distracted each time Hadrian’s deep voice resonated or when Selene’s sharp laughter sliced through the air. Each giggle of hers sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me.

As the final course was served and guests dispersed into smaller circles for conversation and negotiations, I silently plotted my escape. The farther I could get from the crowd, the better. Unfortunately, my plan was short-lived. Mr. Renfield appeared out of nowhere, seizing my hand and whisking me away to introduce me to his acquaintances.

To my dismay, they all spoke of me in glowing terms, crediting me with the success of the treaty. No matter how many times I insisted otherwise, they interpreted my protests as mere humility.

"I know everything that transpired during the meeting, Lady Thalassa," Mr. Renfield said with a knowing smile. "And I’m well aware of what happened afterward. I’m convinced the treaty succeeded because Alpha Kenzo values you more than you realize."

"I wouldn’t say that," I replied, forcing a nervous laugh. "After all, he withdrew his demand concerning me and settled for additional Royal Army warriors instead."

"You’re a clever woman, Lady Thalassa," Mr. Renfield chuckled, "but you're also delightfully naïve when it comes to men. Alpha Kenzo’s initial demand was nothing more than a tactic to capture your attention. His withdrawal? That’s him telling you he won’t pressure you—he’s playing a game of push and pull. Besides, don't you think he’s just a little too attentive for someone who’s supposedly given up?"

I offered him an awkward smile, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. "Mr. Renfield, I thought you wanted me to become Queen, not some werewolf pack’s Luna. Or am I mistaken?"

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, Lady Thalassa, I have no doubt you'd make a splendid Queen, especially given how painfully narrow-minded Queen Selene is. But only a fool ignores all possibilities."

His words left me more confused than ever. I exhaled sharply, only to find my gaze colliding with Hadrian’s from across the room. For the briefest moment, our eyes locked—then, just as quickly, he turned back to Selene, offering her the same warm smile he used to reserve for me.

A sharp ache tightened in my chest.

Hadrian had brought me here, fully aware I'd be seated next to Alpha Kenzo, yet he carried on as if I didn't exist. He had ignored me through the entire evening, and even now, when I stood mere feet away, he refused to acknowledge me.

"Perhaps the concubine should officially greet the King," Mr. Renfield teased, winking playfully.

My stomach twisted, my pulse roaring in my ears.

"This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening."

I glanced around, and dread settled deep in my bones. The scene unfolding before me mirrored my nightmare perfectly—Selene clinging to Hadrian, whispering into his ear, maintaining an almost constant touch.

Hadrian looked at her with the same tenderness that once belonged to me, and the high-ranking officers around them cheered, urging them to display their so-called love.

My head swam. I wanted to run, but Mr. Renfield’s firm nudge propelled me forward. My fists clenched at my sides, and I forced myself to breathe.

"Greetings to the King and Queen," I said, my voice unnervingly identical to how it had sounded in my dream.

No matter how hard I tried to make it sound different, the words came out the same. My hands trembled as I lifted my gaze to Hadrian, silently begging him not to look away this time.

But he did.

Selene smiled triumphantly, wrapping her arms around his neck, and just like that, they kissed.

Laughter and cheers rippled through the garden, and this time, the pain was worse than in my dreams—because I couldn’t wake up from it. It was real, and it was relentless.

Selene’s gaze met mine, brimming with wicked satisfaction. As if to drive the dagger deeper, Hadrian tightened his hold on her, deepening the kiss, before pulling away and flashing a smug grin at the crowd.

I prayed for him to glance my way, to silently tell me it was all an act, that he regretted my pain. But he never did.

My throat locked, my body frozen in place. He knew I was watching, yet he carried on, as if I had been erased from his world.

An unbearable pain spread through my chest.

Something inside me shattered.

I surrendered.