127

127
Epilogue

The palace was ablaze with light and laughter that night, its grand halls echoing with music and joy. Gold and silver streamers hung from the high chandeliers, while the scent of fresh roses filled the air. The entire kingdom had gathered for a single reason — the remarriage of King Federico and Queen Azalea.

It had been two years since that fateful night when Azalea gave birth to Isabella and Isadora, the twin princesses who brought light back into the kingdom. In those two years, so much had changed. The palace that had once felt heavy with betrayal and sorrow now brimmed with life.

Vicky, Azalea’s dearest friend and confidant, stood near the center of the ballroom, dressed in a stunning emerald gown, laughing as her husband Miles twirled her around the dance floor. The two of them had married just a year ago, and Vicky had never looked happier.

Leandro’s and Thomas’ mothers had long been exiled after their plots were uncovered — a decision that brought stability to the kingdom and peace to Federico’s reign. Their departure had been quiet but decisive, a final closing of a chapter that had nearly destroyed them all.

Tonight, however, there was no talk of betrayal, no whispers of court intrigue. Tonight was a celebration.

The music slowed, and all eyes turned toward the center of the ballroom. Federico stood there, dressed in a perfectly tailored black and gold suit, looking every inch the powerful Lycan King he was. His golden eyes searched for only one person — Azalea.

And then she appeared.

Azalea descended the grand staircase slowly, her hand resting lightly on the polished banister. She wore a gown of white silk embroidered with silver leaves, the train trailing behind her like moonlight. Her hair was pinned up with diamond clips, leaving a few loose curls to frame her radiant face.

Federico’s breath caught in his throat. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

When she reached him, he took her hand and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers. “You take my breath away, just like the first time,” he murmured.

Azalea smiled softly. “And you still look like trouble,” she teased, her voice warm.

He chuckled, but his voice grew solemn as he turned toward the priest who would officiate their second wedding. This ceremony was more than just tradition — it was a vow that came after everything they had been through, a promise renewed freely and without the shadows of the past hanging over them.

The priest spoke, and Federico and Azalea repeated their vows, their voices strong and clear. There was no contract between them now, no forced arrangement. This time, their bond was forged entirely by choice and love.

When the priest declared them husband and wife once more, Federico did not wait — he swept Azalea into his arms and kissed her deeply, earning cheers and applause from the crowd.

“Now,” Federico said, his lips brushing her ear, “let’s enjoy our party before our daughters steal all the attention.”

He was right. Isabella and Isadora, dressed in identical pale gold gowns with tiny tiaras perched on their heads, were already tugging on their mother’s skirt, demanding to be picked up.

“Mama, dance!” Isabella squealed.

“Papa too!” Isadora added, pointing at Federico.

Azalea laughed and scooped them up one after the other, and soon the four of them were twirling together under the chandeliers. It was a picture-perfect moment, and everyone in the hall smiled at the sight of their royal family so united.

As the night went on, the ballroom became a whirlwind of dancing, music, and clinking glasses. The tables were laden with delicacies — roasted meats, sweet pastries, and rare wines. Guests toasted to the health of the royal family, to peace, to love, and to the kingdom’s prosperity.

Miles and Vicky joined Azalea at one point, the two women hugging tightly.

“You did it,” Vicky whispered. “You survived everything and look at you now — a queen, a mother, and more in love than ever.”

Azalea smiled softly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You stayed by me when everyone else doubted me. You reminded me who I was.”

“And I’ll always be here,” Vicky said, her eyes glistening. “But tonight is about you. Are you going to tell him?”

Azalea hesitated, her hand unconsciously brushing her stomach. “After the toast,” she said with a little smile.

When the music paused and the glasses were raised, Federico stood at the center of the room and spoke to the assembled guests.

“Tonight,” he said, “we are not just celebrating a marriage — we are celebrating a future. Azalea and I have been through trials that would have broken others. We have faced betrayal, war, and loss. But we have come out stronger. Together.”

Cheers rose from the crowd, but Federico was not finished. He turned to Azalea and held out his hand, inviting her to speak.

Azalea stepped forward, her heart pounding. She glanced at Federico, who looked curious, and then at her daughters, who were playing with their skirts. Taking a deep breath, she smiled.

“I have news,” she announced, her voice carrying across the ballroom. “Our family is about to grow again. Federico… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then the room erupted in cheers and applause. Vicky squealed and hugged Miles, and the guests clapped and shouted their congratulations.

Federico blinked in shock, then turned toward Azalea, his golden eyes wide. “You’re… what?”

Azalea laughed softly, nodding. “You heard me. The twins will soon have a little brother or sister.”

Federico let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a growl of happiness. Without warning, he lifted Azalea off her feet and spun her around in the middle of the ballroom.

“You’ve just given me the greatest gift again,” he whispered fiercely, his lips against her temple. “Azalea, I don’t deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life proving I do.”

She cupped his face with both hands. “You already have,” she said.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of celebration. Isabella and Isadora danced until they were too sleepy to stand, and Federico carried them to their rooms himself, refusing to let the nannies take them. When he returned to the ballroom, he found Azalea standing near the balcony, looking out at the moonlit gardens.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “So,” he murmured, “we’re doing this all over again.”

Azalea leaned back against him with a contented sigh. “Yes. Are you ready?”

Federico rested his chin on her shoulder, his expression soft. “For you? Always.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the music soft in the background, the voices of their guests fading. For the first time since their story began, there was no fear in Azalea’s heart — only love, and hope for the future.

Whatever challenges awaited them, they would face them together.