Chapter 239: Riding in the Light

The roar of the crowd was a living entity, a massive, vibrating force that shook the freshly paved cobblestones of Lycanthia.

I sat tall in the saddle of a massive white stallion, the thick leather reins resting loosely in my hands. The morning sun beat down on the capital, catching the bright silver threads woven through my flowing starlight gown. The heavy Crown of Stars rested securely on my dark hair, catching the light and casting a brilliant, blinding glow over the thousands of people lining the avenues.

Silver confetti drifted down from the high stone balconies of the rebuilt merchant district, floating through the crisp air like summer snow. The sheer volume of the celebration made the stones beneath my stallion’s hooves tremble. Citizens were leaning out of windows, standing on wooden crates, and waving bright banners that stitched the sigils of the Lycans, Werewolves, and Rogues into one unified crest.

Wex rode exactly half a pace to my right on a towering black gelding.

The Alpha King wore a simple, dark leather tunic, leaving his thick, scarred arms exposed to the warm breeze. He looked entirely at ease, though his golden eyes constantly tracked every shifting shadow in the crowd. Through the bright, rushing river of the Sovereign Bond humming in the center of my chest, I felt his sharp, quiet vigilance wrapped in a deep, burning pride. Every beat of his heart sent a wave of liquid gold through my veins, anchoring me to the earth.

"You are holding your breath," Wex murmured, his rough voice carrying effortlessly over the deafening cheers of the crowd.

I let out a long exhale, feeling the tight muscles in my back finally relax. I tasted the dry, sweet dust kicked up by the horses on the back of my tongue.

"It is a lot of people, Wex," I admitted, keeping my gaze forward. "Six months ago, these streets were covered in gray ash. The sky was falling. Now, they are throwing flowers at my boots."

"They are thanking you," he replied. He turned his head to look at me, a rare, soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Get used to it, Eddena. You built this new world. Let them see you."

Ahead of us, leading the grand procession, Shamus Senán Murray and Sacheverell rode side by side. Shamus wore his polished golden armor, his heavy red cape flowing over the back of his armored warhorse. Sacheverell rode a swift, dappled gray mare, tossing shiny silver coins into the reaching hands of the children lining the street, his dark eyes bright with amusement.

The music shifted, the brass horns blowing a high, triumphant note as we reached the end of the central avenues.

The polished white marble of the inner city abruptly gave way to the packed dirt and deep trenches of the eastern gates. This was the edge of the capital, the muddy flats where the displaced and the disgraced waited for their fate.

The atmosphere changed instantly. The joyful, bright energy of the inner city faded, replaced by the grim, desperate grit of survival. The loud cheers turned into low, anxious murmurs. The colorful banners were replaced by drab, stained tents and dying, smoky fires.

Commander McKenna Leann Conaill and her elite Moon Guards formed a tight barricade of silver shields, holding back the surging crowd of beggars. These were the former high court families who had fled the capital when the Eclipse King rose, leaving the commoners to burn. Now, they were dressed in rags, their hands and faces coated in thick, wet mud.

I kept my chin high, my sapphire eyes scanning the desperate faces pushing against the silver shields.

Then, the golden bond in my chest spiked with a cold, sharp warning from Wex.

I looked down.

Standing in the deep, freezing mud, shoved roughly against the edge of McKenna’s silver shield, was my past.

My father’s face was sunken and pale, his gray hair matted with dirt and grease. The fine, tailored silk coats he used to wear were gone, replaced by a coarse, itchy burlap sack that offered no protection from the morning chill. Next to him, my mother looked small and frail. Her hands, which had once slapped my face for speaking out of turn, were covered in dark, weeping blisters.

And right beside them was Karol.

The handsome, cruel boy who had mocked my lack of a wolf was completely unrecognizable. His pale skin was smeared with soot and grime. His gray eyes were wide, bloodshot, and frantic. The arrogant smirk that had defined his entire existence was completely erased by true, grinding poverty.

They saw me.

The realization hit them like a falling rock. The worthless, discarded orphan they had left to die in the snow was riding a white stallion, wearing a crown forged from the stars, with the Alpha King at her side.

"Eddena!" my father screamed, his voice cracking horribly. He lunged forward, throwing his dirty hands against McKenna's shield, desperate to break through the line. "Daughter! Tell them! Tell them who we are! We are the Harris family! We belong in the palace!"

My mother started weeping, a loud, ugly, and pathetic sound that grated against my ears. "Eddena, please! We are starving in the dirt! I am your mother! You have to save us!"

Karol shoved past an elderly man, reaching his filthy hand out toward the legs of my stallion. "Eddena! Look at me! I am your betrothed! I was promised to you! You cannot leave me in this filth! I can be your King!"

I pulled back slightly on the thick leather reins. My horse slowed to a complete halt, his heavy hooves splashing softly in the dark puddles.