Chapter 89 THE FEAST CONFRONTATIONS
Raphael’s Pov
I was standing near the feast tables talking to some visiting Alphas when I noticed Celestia return from wherever she had been. She looked shaken and her eyes were red as if she had been crying.
That was strange. Why would she be crying? The ceremony had gone well. Medea had been blessed by the Elders. There was nothing for Celestia to be upset about unless something else had happened.
I watched her walk back to her seat beside the Lycan King, every step measured, cautious, heavy with unspoken dread. She kept her head lowered, shoulders drawn inward, as though hiding bruises the light might expose, as though eyes themselves could wound. Murmurs followed her like ghosts. The Lycan King drew her close, his arm a possessive band around her waist, staking silent ownership. He bent to her ear and whispered something soft, lethal, meant only for her. Her spine stiffened, breath hitching, before she went still, composed, obedient, wearing submission like armor while the court pretended not to notice. Power settled thick between them, suffocating, undeniable, a promise of consequences she would endure alone, tonight, silently.
Before I could think more about it one of the medical staff approached me looking nervous.
"Alpha Raphael I need to speak with you privately," the nurse said quietly.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It is about your son. Master Asher," the nurse said.
My stomach tightened into a hard knot, cold dread crawling up my spine. Something had happened to Asher—something that had left him vulnerable, scared, or hurt. That was why this nurse’s expression was so tense, so rigid, her eyes darting nervously as she tried to mask the worry she couldn’t fully contain. Every instinct screamed at me, warning me that whatever had occurred was serious, and that I needed to know immediately before the consequences worsened.
"What about him? Is he alright?" I asked.
"He is fine now but we found him out of his room. He somehow got out and made it all the way to the stairwell before we found him. He was very distressed and kept calling for someone," the nurse said.
"Calling for who?" I asked.
"He kept saying, Mama. Over and over. We tried to calm him down but he would not stop crying for his mama," the nurse said.
I felt cold all over. Asher was calling for his mama, but Medea had been at the ceremony the entire time. She had not gone to see Asher.
Unless he was calling for Medea. Unless he was calling for someone else.
I looked back to where Celestia sat, and in that instant everything slid into place with sickening clarity. She had been gone from the feast far too long—long enough for silence to turn suspicious. Her eyes were red, swollen, glassy with tears she hadn’t fully managed to hide. And then there was Asher, found alone in his room, small hands clutching the sheets, voice breaking as he cried out for Mama. The timing was too perfect. Too cruel. Whatever had happened hadn’t just hurt her—it had unraveled something precious, something a child had felt even without understanding it.
The timing was too suspicious to be a coincidence.
"When did you find Asher out of his room?" I asked the nurse.
"About ten minutes ago. We got him back to bed and he finally fell asleep but he was very upset," the nurse said.
Ten minutes ago. That was right around the time Celestia would have been away from the feast. Right around the time she disappeared and came back looking shaken.
"Thank you for telling me. Make sure Asher stays in his room from now on. Lock the door if you have to," I said.
"Yes Alpha," the nurse said and she hurried away.
I stood frozen for a moment, torn between caution and instinct, my mind racing. I had no proof, no tangible evidence that Celestia had gone to see Asher—nothing concrete to show anyone. Yet every fiber of my being screamed that something had happened, that the truth was hidden just beyond my reach. My heart pounded, my palms damp, as I weighed my next move, knowing that hesitation could cost me time, but acting blindly could make everything worse. The uncertainty twisted in my chest, sharp and relentless, daring me to trust only what I felt.
I walked across the feast area toward where Celestia and the Lycan King were sitting. People moved out of my way and the conversations around me got quieter. Everyone could sense I was not happy about something.
I stopped in front of Celestia and looked down at her. She met my eyes calmly but I could see the tension in her shoulders. She knew why I was here.
"What were you doing away from the feast?" I asked.
My voice rang out sharper than I intended, cutting clean through the low hum of conversation. One by one, nearby voices died mid-sentence. Heads turned. Eyes fixed on me. The air shifted, thickening with curiosity and tension, as if everyone instinctively sensed what was coming. Too late to take it back now. Too late to soften it. This was no longer private, no longer contained. Whatever I was about to unleash would spill into the open, witnessed by all—and there would be no retreat once the first word landed.
"Using the restroom. Is that not allowed?" Celestia said and her voice was steady.
"You were gone for a long time. Longer than it takes to use the restroom," I said.
"I also needed some fresh air. The ceremony was overwhelming. Am I required to report my every movement to you?" Celestia asked.
She was being calm and reasonable but there was steel underneath her words. She was not going to be intimidated by me.
"Interestingly, you needed fresh air at the same time my son was found out of his room calling for his mama," I said.
The Lycan King stood up from his seat and moved to stand between Celestia. His alpha aura radiated outward and it was powerful enough that I had to fight the urge to step back.
"Are you accusing my mate of something?" Lucian asked and his voice was dangerously quiet.
"I am simply asking where she was. That is not an accusation," I said.
“It sounds like an accusation to me,” Lucian said coolly. “You are implying that Celestia sought out my son without permission.” His gaze sharpened, calculating, deliberately calm. “That is a serious claim.” He let the silence stretch, heavy and deliberate, forcing every ear in the hall to listen. “So I will ask you plainly—do you have any proof to support it, or are you speaking on nothing more than assumption, rumor, and reckless emotion meant to stain her name?”
"The timing is suspicious," I said.
"Timing is not proof. My mate told you she was using the restroom and getting some fresh air. Unless you have evidence that she did something else I suggest you drop this line of questioning," Lucian said.
The air between us was crackling with tension. Lucian's aura was pushing against mine and I could feel the power difference between us. He was a Lycan King and I was just an Alpha, if this turned into a fight I would lose.
But I could not back down—not now. Not when every instinct I possessed was screaming the same truth over and over. Something had happened. Something deliberate. Celestia hadn’t simply wandered off; she had gone to see Asher. I could feel it in my bones, in the tight coil of certainty settling in my chest. Ignoring that pull would have been a betrayal—not just of myself, but of the child who had been left crying for his mother in an empty room.
"I have guards who can confirm whether anyone entered the medical wing during the ceremony," I said.
"Then check with your guards. But until you have actual proof I expect you to stop harassing my mate," Lucian said.
More people were watching now. The entire feast area had gone quiet and everyone was staring at us. This was becoming a scene and I knew I needed to be careful about how I handled it.
If I pushed too hard without proof I would look like I was bullying Celestia. But if I backed down completely I would look weak.
I was about to respond when I heard someone scream. I turned and saw Medea collapsing near one of the feast tables.