146. Long Day
146. Long Day
ALICE
The last two months have been pure chaos. Two months. It feels like a lifetime and, at the same time, just a blink of an eye.
I’ll admit, Elora’s imprisonment was like removing a giant boulder from the road. At first, it was mayhem. The people were divided, some saw her as the queen who kept Pamyel united, others as the traitor who fueled a war for power.
There were a few protests in the square, Lycans growling at each other, and even some nasty fights in the taverns. But Alaester, Aemon, and I didn’t let things go to shit. We took control and started rebuilding everything the right way.
Alaester is the king, but not that distant kind who just gives orders. He was there, among the people, listening to their complaints, helping rebuild the villages that suffered from the Aladian attacks along the borders. He and Aemon were traveling, assigning resources to the right places.
And me? Well, I became the queen no one expected. A human, a hunter, the mate of two Lycans. And when I revealed my lineage, it was like dropping a fucking bomb.
I remember the day I told them. It was at an assembly in the central square, a week after we locked Elora up, with hundreds of Lycans staring at me, some with suspicion, others with curiosity. I was trembling inside, but I kept my chin high. Aemon and Alaester stood beside me, giving me strength.
“People of Pamyel… I know you don't trust me very much because I'm human, and I've only been here a short time. I've always been honest with you, and I wouldn't be any different now that I've discovered something important about myself. So, I have to tell you… I am a hunter by blood,” I said, my voice shaky, echoing as they stared at me in disbelief. The silence that followed was deafening.
And then, panic. Screaming, growling, accusations.
“Hunter! Traitor!” some of them shouted. My heart was racing, and for a moment, I thought I was going to lose everything.
“But I chose Pamyel. I chose all of you. And I will fight for this kingdom until my last breath.”
But then Myrwen stormed in like a fucking hurricane. The witch climbed up the platform, black hair flying, eyes glowing like stars, and unleashed a wave of magic that silenced everyone. Murmurs of “she's the witch” and “goddess of the moon, she's the exiled witch” erupted from the crowd.
“This woman is more of a queen than any of you deserve,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade. “Her blood is strong, yes, but she used that power to save King Aemon, to protect Pamyel. And you want to throw away a leader like that because you're scared? Then you’re cowards, not Lycans.”
She spoke about balance, about how my bloodline could be a bridge between humans and Lycans, and fuck, the people listened
It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, the distrust turned into respect.
Today, they call me the Hunter Queen in the streets, and not with hate. With pride. Things have gotten better since then.
We’re negotiating a peace treaty with the Aladians now that we’ve managed to prove we have no reason to keep this war going, and so far, their response has been better than expected. They agreed to attend a meeting on neutral ground last month.
The war with Aladia is under a fragile ceasefire, thanks to the negotiations Aemon led. The King of Aladia took a while to believe us, but eventually agreed to halt the attacks for now. If nothing gets in the way, we’ll move forward toward a peace treaty. It’s not peace, not yet, but it’s a start.
The villages are being rebuilt, trade is coming back, and even the older wolves, the ones who hated change, are starting to accept that Pamyel can be more than a kingdom of war.
But not everything is perfect.
Today is Elora’s trial, and just thinking about it makes my stomach twist. I’m wearing a simple dark-blue dress, with a leather belt that holds a small dagger, a reminder of who I am. Aemon and Alaester are wearing the dark cloaks of Lycan kings. I can feel their tension. Elora is their mother, or at least, the one who raised them. This isn’t going to be easy.
“Ready, little devil?” Alaester asks, his deep voice steady as he holds my hand while we walk down to the judgment hall.
He’s trying to act calm, but the tight grip of his fingers gives away how pissed he really is.
“I am,” I lie, forcing a smile. “And you two?”
Aemon, on my other side, wraps his arm around my waist. The warmth of his body calms me.
“It won’t be pretty, but it’s necessary,” he says, his voice soft.
“She needs to pay, Alice. For everything that happened.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. The judgment hall is packed when we walk in. Lycans from all over the kingdom, and even a few Aladian emissaries, are here watching. The throne is empty, it belongs to us now, to Aemon, to Alaester and me. And in the center, on a platform to the side, stands Elora.
She’s shackled in enchanted chains laced with wolfsbane. Her jet-black hair is loose, her face pale, but her eyes still burn with that poisonous pride. When she sees us arriving, she smiles, a cold smile that sends chills down my spine.
“Now that our kings have arrived, we can begin,” Elder Greythorn says, adjusting himself in his chair.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say under my breath, just loud enough for Aemon and Alaester to hear. They nod, and we take our places in front of the crowd.
It’s going to be a long day.