The next morning, the King was nowhere to be found.
No deep rumble of his voice echoing down the long corridors, no heavy footfalls that made the polished stone tremble.
Instead, servants scurried in and out of Natalie's chamber, their heads bowed low, never meeting her eyes. They spoke little, and when they did, it was in clipped phrases.
"His Majesty requests you be ready by the third toll."
"Wear the moon-silver gown. The seamstress adjusted it to your measurements."
Every word felt rehearsed, careful;like they had been warned not to get too close.
Even the scent of the palace was different today. Yesterday, she'd noticed the warm musk of wolf-kind lingering in the halls. Now, it was sharper,full of dominance and suspicion, the kind of scent that prickled her wolf's instincts into alertness.
She bathed, dressed, and tried to ignore the gnawing emptiness where Damien's presence should have been.
By the time the bronze bells tolled thrice, a steward arrived to escort her to the Council Hall. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly full-blooded wolf. His amber eyes flicked over her once, assessing, before he turned on his heel without a word.
---
The Council Hall was vast,its vaulted ceiling held up by stone pillars carved into howling wolves, their muzzles raised to a moon that wasn't there. The air inside was thick with power and rank; each noble's aura was sharp and deliberate, pressing into her like an unspoken challenge.
She stepped forward, feeling every gaze snap toward her.
These weren't just nobles bound by polite smiles. These were Alphas, Betas, and Elders,wolves who had fought for territory, spilt blood under moonlight, and carried scars like badges. And they were measuring her… and finding her lacking.
"Princess Natalie," the voice came from the high table where the eldest councilor sat, a silver-furred Elder whose eyes were the pale blue of winter skies. "We meet at last."
The greeting was cordial enough, but there was no warmth in it.
The murmurs began almost immediately after she took her seat,low growls beneath their breath, words masked in their dialect of the old tongue.
"Unproven."
"Human-blooded."
"Chosen mate or political liability?"
Natalie kept her gaze forward, spine straight, pretending she couldn't hear. But her wolf bristled under the veiled insults, pacing behind her ribs.
---
Halfway through the meeting, a court lady swept into the hall. She was striking,tall, all sharp cheekbones and dark, gleaming hair pinned with moonstone clips. Her gown clung like silk water, and her scent was pure dominance wrapped in sweet perfume.
"My apologies for the delay," she purred, gliding toward her seat without a bow to anyone but the Elder.
Her eyes found Natalie, and a slow smirk curved her lips.
"So… this is the King's new Luna?" Her voice carried just enough for the whole table to hear. "I expected someone… taller. Perhaps with more bite."
A ripple of laughter rolled through a few of the nobles.
Natalie's fingers curled in her lap. She could almost feel Damien's voice in her head, warning her not to rise to the bait. But another part of her,the part that refused to be trampled,leaned forward just slightly.
"And I," she said, her tone smooth, "expected someone with better timing. But we can't all live up to expectations."
The lady's smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat, before she chuckled softly. "A tongue on her, I see. Let's hope it doesn't get bitten off in this court."
"Oh, I'm sure if anyone tries," Natalie replied, tilting her head, "they'll find I bite back harder."
That earned a few sharp inhales from the table. The lady's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more.
---
The meeting dragged on, filled with discussions about border disputes and pack treaties, matters that seemed deliberately heavy with jargon she wasn't expected to follow. They spoke in the old lupine terms;lunae accords, blood-oaths, claw-rights, moon-witness trials,words that made sense only to those who had grown up in the heart of wolf politics.
When it was finally adjourned, Natalie slipped away quietly, relieved to escape the thick press of judgment. She found herself wandering one of the side corridors, trying to map the twisting palace halls in her head.
That was when she heard them.
Two young male voices, low but not low enough. She paused just beyond the archway, ears straining.
"…She won't last a moon-cycle," one said, his tone mocking.
"The Luna? I give her less than that," the other replied. "Elda Marisse already has something planned. You know she doesn't let rivals live comfortably."
A quiet laugh. "A little… test of worth, I hear. We'll see if she has any spine under all that silk."
Natalie's breath caught, the meaning of their words sliding into place like cold steel. This wasn't just petty dislike,someone was actively preparing to challenge her.
Her wolf stirred restlessly, tail high, ears forward.
Good, the wolf whispered. Let them come.
But Natalie knew better than to meet a threat head-on without knowing the battlefield. She would need to be ready.
She turned, retracing her steps toward her chamber. If they wanted to test her… they might just find she was not the prey they thought she was.