Chapter 63 Grand Queen’s Disapproval

Chapter 63 Grand Queen’s Disapproval
63: Grand Queen’s Disapproval

The sun barely peeked over the jagged horizon, painting Dravenmoor’s ruins with gold and rose, when the first formal visitors arrived. I had hoped, naively, perhaps that after everything the ritual, the curse being broken, Lucian and I survived things might finally feel normal. Or at least peaceful.

Ha.

Peace in Dravenmoor was a concept as fictional as a talking wolf with a tea obsession.

The carriage that rolled into our courtyard was polished, black, with crimson trim, and heralded by horses that snorted fire or maybe that was just my imagination. A flurry of silk and authority descended before I even realized I was holding my breath.

I’ve already heard a lot about how cruel Lucian mother was and I expect more.

Queen Leticia.

She was every political nightmare rolled into one impossibly tall, impossibly elegant woman. Hair the color of winter sun, eyes sharp enough to slice through steel, and the kind of aura that made you immediately want to apologize for existing. Not just me. Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime.

She surveyed the ruined palace grounds, the makeshift tents, the scattered banners, and then she looked at me. And the look oh, that look was pure, distilled, concentrated disapproval.

“Aria Quinn,” she said, voice smooth but heavy with judgment, like velvet over iron. “I have heard… disturbing things.”

I blinked. “Good morning to you too, your majesty. And I… uh, hope the roads were safe?” I tried humor. Failed. Miserably.

Lucian stepped forward beside me, silent, towering, deadly calm. His presence radiated warning and ownership in equal measure. The Grand Queen’s gaze flicked to him, acknowledging his authority, but not bowing, not yet. I, on the other hand, felt like a flea at a wolf’s funeral.

“You allowed this…” she gestured vaguely at the camp, the bloodied banners, the warriors, the chaos that had become our daily life, “to happen?”

I swallowed. 

Her eyes narrowed. “You disrupted alliances. You shattered traditions. You… chosen.”

I almost laughed. Almost. “Choose what?” I asked innocently, fully aware that the storm about to hit me would not be amused.

“The Alpha,” she said. One word, like a guillotine dropping. “Lucian of Dravenmoor. You…” She waved a hand vaguely at me as if I were the source of a pestilence. “You defied centuries of protocol. You—”

“I saved the world?” I offered helpfully.

Her lip curled. “Saved the world? By… sleeping with him?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That was not exactly part of the plan. But okay. Point taken. Very politically correct.”

Lucian stepped closer, his shadow falling over me protectively. “She did not act lightly,” he said evenly, eyes flashing. “She made the right choice. The curse is gone.”

Grand Queen’s eyes glittered like knives. “The curse is gone. Yes. But at what cost? Dravenmoor is weakened. Our alliances are fragile. And now you… you claim my son’s allegiance through passion and desire rather than duty and reason. How… convenient.”

I could feel my teeth grinding. This was not even subtle. She didn’t see me as the woman who had fought, bled, and survived alongside Lucian. She saw a disruption, a threat, a scandal waiting to be reported at the next council meeting.

I tried to smile. Failed again. “My Queen,” I said carefully, humor failing me as quickly as my nerves, “I did not… manipulate him. I survived. He survived. And the curse ended. We are alive, which if I may point out is kind of important.”

Her laugh was cold. The kind of laugh that belonged to someone who had never known mercy. “Alive is not enough. Protocol is not optional. Alliances must be preserved. And your… affair with my son complicates everything. You are young. Impulsive. Reckless.”

I wanted to tell her I was centuries old now, thank you very much, and that impulsive was practically my middle name. Instead, I stood straight, chest forward, trying to channel the calm Lucian sometimes forced me to muster.

“And I suppose,” I said carefully, “your solution would be for me to leave? Or for Lucian to… make alliances with someone else? Someone you approve of?”

She did not answer immediately. That pause alone was threatening, a subtle weapon. When she finally spoke, her words cut clear: “You will not influence him. You will not interfere with Dravenmoor’s future. I have already arranged for his mating. He will marry Nerissa  of Grandlewood.”

Silence. Absolute, jaw-dropping, brain-stopping silence.

I blinked. Then blinked again. Then carefully tested the ground beneath me in case I had misheard. Nope. She had said it. He would marry Leticia. My pulse skipped, stuttered, and threatened to explode through my ribs.

Lucian’s jaw tightened. Not a growl this time, not yet. But a storm simmered in his eyes that made me shiver.

“Your highness,” he said evenly, the low threat in his voice like a coiled snake ready to strike, “I do not take orders from you in my personal life.”

She sniffed, amused in a very aristocratic, dangerous way. “And yet, you are expected to honor alliances. Your pack’s recovery requires allies. Grandlewood is a powerful pack. Nerissa’s marriage would solidify your position and ensure Dravenmoor rises from ruin stronger than ever.”

I could feel my hands curling into fists at my sides. The political reasoning was there, yes. But the blatant disregard for what I and Lucian had survived, for what we had done, for us… it burned.

“Your pack’s recovery,” I repeated slowly, voice tight, “is not worth erasing the person you care for? Not worth erasing the woman who saved your life, your pack, your… existence?”

Grand Queen fixed me with a glare that could freeze rivers. “You are not meant to make such choices, Aria Quinn. You are… your role is temporary. Your influence… will be corrected. It always is.”

I felt my stomach twist. Corrected. Like I was a mistake to be erased. My chest tightened. And yet, through the terror, the fury, the disbelief, a single thought persisted: I was not a mistake. Not to Lucian. Not to the world. Not to me.

Lucian stepped closer. His hand found mine, gripping firmly. Not to restrain, not to argue, but to anchor. “Do not listen to her. You are mine. This pack, this land, this future, it belongs to those who survive it. And we survived.”

I inhaled sharply, grounding myself in that. His grip, his presence, his absolute certainty in me and us it was everything.

Grand Queen let out a sharp laugh, like breaking glass. “Love is irrelevant. Passion is fleeting. Alliances are eternal.”

I tilted my head. “And yet,” I said softly, deadly calm, “you underestimate passion. You underestimate survival. You underestimate the woman standing here, alive, unbroken, and very, very unwilling to let your alliances dictate my life.”

Her eyes narrowed. She was not used to being spoken to in such a tone. Not from someone like me. I smiled faintly. Not sweetly. Not humbly. But sharply, with all the humor and ferocity I had cultivated over countless lifetimes.

Lucian leaned close, whispering in my ear, voice low and husky: “Do not let her words reach your heart. Not now. Not ever. You are mine. Always.”

I swallowed. The words were a balm, but also a fuel. The Queen’s disapproval burned, yes but it also ignited something in me. I was not going to bow, not to her, not to fate, not to centuries of expectation.

The Grand Queen exhaled slowly, clearly calculating her next move. “You will see, Aria,” she said, tone silk over steel. “Your influence will be temporary. Your choices… corrected. The world is not yours to shape.”

I smiled again, this time humor lacing the edges. 

Lucian squeezed my hand. A warning. A promise. Both. And for the first time since the curse had been lifted, I felt the full weight of being alive and standing beside him not just surviving, but ready to fight for every moment of it.

The Grand Queen’s carriage departed without further words. Her silence was heavier than her threats. And I knew this battle was far from over.

But for now, Lucian and I were together. And if she wanted war, she would have to contend with a woman who had defied curses, destiny, and gods and who had absolutely zero intention of being erased.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Lucian leaned closer, brushing his lips against my temple, whispering softly: “You did perfectly. Never doubt yourself.”

I snorted softly, leaning into him, the tiniest smirk playing on my lips. “Perfect? Surviving a war, a curse, a rogue Mother Queen, and the aftereffects of your alphaness? Yeah. Sure. Let’s call it perfect.”

He chuckled, low, dangerous, and utterly satisfying. “I love that you call surviving me perfect.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart couldn’t stop racing. “Of course you do. Everyone does. Especially when they can barely breathe next to you.”

He leaned in and kissed me again, slower this time. Gentle but insistent. A promise that even if the world tried to undo us, even if Queen plotted endlessly, we had already survived the impossible.

And that, at least for now, was enough.