Chapter 48 The Queen was crowned.
The wedding feast began at nightfall, when the moon finally rose above the castle towers, large and full, as if observing everything with calculated attention.
The main courtyard had been transformed. Magical torches floated in the air, emitting a soft, silvery light that didn't burn, only warmed.
Light fabrics hung from the balconies in light layers, dancing with the wind, and ancient wolf pack symbols were etched into the stone floor, shimmering discreetly beneath the guests' feet.
The scent was a mixture of night-blooming flowers, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread. Long tables stretched across the space, laden with candied fruits, slow-roasted meats, honey-drenched sweets, and ever-full goblets.
Laughter echoed, loud at first, then more relaxed, more genuine, as if for a few hours fear had been invited to leave.
When Conrad entered with me, the sound ceased for a brief moment.
Not out of reverence for the king, but because of the impact of the union.
I felt the gazes—curious, emotional, suspicious, hopeful—all mixed together. Some alphas touched their chests in a sign of respect, others bowed their heads. The older Lunas watched me with attentive eyes, as if trying to see beyond the dress, beyond the skin.
The music began softly, marked by deep drums and long strings. An ancient dance, reserved for unions that would change the course of an entire pack. Conrad led me with firmness and care, as if the world could crumble if his steps faltered.
When our hands touched in the center of the circle, the symbol beneath my skin responded with a soft, almost respectful warmth.
There were toasts.
Whispered promises.
Laughter that hid tension and embraces that lasted longer than usual, like premature farewells to a fragile peace.
Kael watched everything from a distance, leaning against a column, his eyes too attentive for someone celebrating. The soldiers took turns in the shadows, armed, even though the music tried to feign normalcy.
At one point, Conrad leaned close to my ear.
"For tonight," he murmured, "the kingdom chooses to believe."
I looked around once more.
They were dancing.
They were singing.
They were celebrating.
But beneath each smile was the silent awareness that this party was not just a beginning.
It was a pause.
Before the storm.
The music continued, more vibrant, bolder, as if the musicians were trying to forcefully push fear away. The guests scattered across the courtyard, some dancing in wide circles, others conversing in low tones, casting attentive glances at the entrances and the walls.
Conrad kept his hand firmly in mine, even when we were separated by the crowd. Whenever our eyes met, there was a silent promise: as long as we stood, the kingdom still had ground to stand on.
The younger Lunas approached me, offering careful smiles and kind words. They spoke of the dress, the ceremony, the favorable moon. But behind the words were unspoken questions, contained curiosities, a shared premonition that I was not just a new queen.
The symbol on my chest pulsed in slow intervals, like a heart that wasn't just mine. It didn't burn. It observed.
When the wine began to circulate more freely and the laughter became less restrained, I felt the change in the air. It wasn't a breeze. It was a strange silence between one chord and another, as if something had taken a deep breath at the same instant as me.
My fingers closed around the glass.
Kael raised his gaze from the other side of the courtyard, suddenly rigid. Our eyes met, and he shook his head once. It wasn't a warning. It was confirmation.
Conrad appeared beside me at that very moment.
"You felt it," he murmured.
"They're watching," I replied, keeping a smile on my face as a pack of wolves toasted beside us. "Not here. Not yet."
The moon, once bright, seemed partially veiled by clouds too thin to justify that shadow. The symbols on the ground lost some of their brilliance, like embers covered in ashes.
The party continued.
But now we were dancing on something fragile.
Conrad touched my forehead with his, in an intimate, almost ancient gesture.
"When this night is over," he said softly, "nothing will be just celebration anymore."
I closed my eyes for a second, absorbing his warmth, the sound of the music, the weight of the dress, the memory of that moment.
"Then let's remember her," I replied. "Because tomorrow... we choose to fight."
And, above us, the Moon watched silently, as if it already knew the price of that promise.
Conrad was summoned by some alphas, and I was alone for a moment, surrounded by faces that smiled without reaching their eyes. I felt the weight of the title fall on my shoulders more forcefully than the crown. It wasn't just a queen they were observing now. It was an enigma.
I took a deep breath.
The symbol on my chest responded with a soft, almost comforting pulse. It wasn't urgency. It was presence.
I walked to the edge of the courtyard, where the torches cast long shadows on the stones. It was there that I felt it again: not an attack, not a call—a listening. As if something, beyond the walls, was learning the rhythm of my heart.
Kael appeared beside me, silent as always.
"The night isn't over yet," he said.
"They'll try another approach," I murmured. "Not forcefully." "With doubt."
Kael nodded.
"Fear divides more kingdoms than any war."
Conrad returned, positioning himself naturally beside me, his arm firmly around my waist. He asked nothing. He simply stayed. And that was enough.
I looked one last time at the illuminated hall, at the musicians, at the guests trying to convince themselves that this was just a celebration.
It was.
But it was also a threshold.
When the music began again, slower, deeper, I knew: this would be the last night we would pretend everything was normal. From then on, every step, every decision, every silence would have historical weight.
The moon emerged from the clouds, pale, vigilant.
And I, finally, accepted it.
There would be no turning back. There would be no forgetting.
The queen had been crowned.
Now, the world would have to learn to remember.
That night didn't just celebrate a wedding. It sealed the beginning of an impossible truth. to hide — and from a war that would not allow for distracted survivors.