Dawn broke over the Silver Palace, painting the white stone in shades of rose and gold.
Elara stood at the window of what had once been the royal chambers, staring out at the mist-shrouded valley below. Somewhere out there, the master was coming. An army of rogues and worse, all hungry for her blood.
And in two days, the Blood Moon would rise.
She touched the marks on her arms. They'd changed overnight—become more intricate, more complete. Silver lines that traced patterns she was only beginning to understand. Patterns of power. Of lineage. Of destiny.
Behind her, Kael stirred in the massive bed.
He'd refused to leave her side after the kneeling. Had slept wrapped around her, his body a shield, his presence an anchor. Even now, she could feel him through the bond—waking, reaching for her, needing to know she was safe.
"Elara." His voice was rough with sleep. "You're at the window. Come back to bed."
She almost smiled. "The sun's up. We have work to do."
"We have two days until the Blood Moon. We have time." He appeared behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, lips pressing to her shoulder. "Stay. Just for a moment."
She leaned into him. Let herself feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, the love that pulsed through the bond like a second pulse.
"Last night," she whispered. "When you knelt. Did you mean it? Everything you said?"
His arms tightened. "Every word. Every syllable. I've never meant anything more."
"The seal recognized it. Accepted it. Morwenna said—" She turned in his arms to face him. "She said you're worthy. The seal declared it."
Kael's silver eyes held hers. "And you? Do you declare it?"
Do I think he's worthy?
She thought of everything he'd done. The rejection, yes—but also the protection. The fighting. The kneeling. The choosing, over and over, even when he didn't understand why.
"I declare it," she whispered. "I declare you worthy. I declare you mine."
He kissed her.
Slow. Deep. Claiming.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Kael's forehead rested against hers.
"Then let's face this day together. Whatever comes."
"Together."
---
Morwenna waited for them in the great hall.
She'd changed somehow—seemed younger, stronger, more alive. The palace's magic was restoring her, Elara realized. Feeding her. Preparing her for whatever came next.
"Good." The ancient woman nodded as they approached. "You're both awake. We have much to do and little time."
Dace was there too, sitting on the steps of the silver throne with a pile of ancient documents spread around him. He looked up as they entered, his hazel eyes bright with excitement.
"The old records," he said. "Morwenna showed me where they were hidden. There's so much—battle plans, alliance treaties, lists of packs that remained loyal to the Crown." He held up a scroll. "Some of these families still exist. Still remember what their ancestors swore."
Kael moved closer, scanning the documents. "How many packs? How many warriors?"
"Hard to say. Some are small now. Others have been absorbed by larger packs. But there are names here—names I recognize." Dace's jaw tightened. "My family's name is here. The Dace line swore loyalty to the Crown five hundred years ago."
Elara stared at him. "Your family served the royals that long ago?"
"Many families did. The Crown ruled for a thousand years. That kind of loyalty doesn't disappear in two centuries." He looked at her. "It just... waits. For someone to remind them."
Someone to remind them.
Elara looked at the throne. Silver light pulsed along its arms, warm and welcoming.
Maybe that someone is me.
---
The morning passed in a blur of planning.
Morwenna taught Elara about the palace's defenses—ancient wards that could be activated with royal blood, hidden passages that could be used for escape, armories stocked with weapons that had waited centuries for wielders.
Kael studied battle strategies with Dace, marking maps, identifying choke points, planning for a siege they prayed wouldn't come.
And through it all, the bond pulsed between them—warm, steady, certain.
By midday, they had a plan.
"We activate the wards first," Kael said, pointing at the map. "That buys us time. Then we send runners to the loyalist packs—the ones Dace identified. If they come, if they remember their oaths, we might have a fighting chance."
"And if they don't come?" Elara asked quietly.
Kael's silver eyes met hers. "Then we fight anyway. We hold this palace. We protect you until the Blood Moon rises. And when your seal breaks and your power awakens—" He touched her face. "Then you end this. Forever."
End this. The master. The hunt. Two centuries of fear and death and loss.
All resting on her shoulders.
The weight of it pressed down, threatened to crush her.
But then Kael's hand found hers. And Morwenna's ancient eyes met hers with steady faith. And Dace nodded once, fiercely, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.
I can do this, she thought. With them, I can do this.
I have to.
---
The wards took hours to activate.
Morwenna guided Elara through the process—a ritual as old as the palace itself, requiring royal blood and royal will. Elara cut her palm with a silver knife, let her blood drip onto the ancient stones, and spoke.
Words in a language she didn't know. Words that came from somewhere deeper than memory.
The palace answered.
Light blazed along every wall, every corridor, every tower. Power surged through the stones, through Elara, through the bond she shared with Kael. For one breathless moment, she was the palace and the palace was her—every stone, every shadow, every secret.
Then the light faded, and the wards were active.
Nothing could enter the valley now without her permission. No enemy could cross the mist without being slowed, confused, trapped.
"Beautiful," Kael breathed, watching her.
Elara swayed, exhausted. He caught her, held her.
"Rest." His voice was firm. "You've done enough for now."
"The runners—we need to send them—"
"Already done. Dace found volunteers among the palace's... inhabitants." Kael's voice was strange on the last word.
Elara looked up. "Inhabitants?"
Morwenna answered. "Not all who served the Crown died in the massacre, child. Some fled. Some hid. Some—" She gestured vaguely. "Some became part of the palace's magic. Bound to it. Waiting for this day."
Ghosts, Elara thought. The palace is full of ghosts.
But not ghosts, exactly. Something else. Spirits bound by duty and love and the desperate need to protect what remained.
"They'll carry the messages," Morwenna continued. "To every loyalist family. To every pack that still remembers. And if the Moon wills it—" She smiled sadly. "They'll come."
If the Moon wills it.
Elara leaned into Kael's strength.
Please let them come.
---
That night, for the first time, Elara dreamed of her mother.
Not the shadowy figure from earlier visions—a real woman, warm and vivid, with Elara's grey eyes and silver-streaked hair. She sat on the throne in the great hall, holding a sleeping infant.
You, Elara realized. You're holding me.
Yes, daughter. The Queen's voice was soft, melodic. I held you like this only once. The night before the massacre. I knew what was coming—the Sight showed me everything. But in this moment, I chose to hold you. To love you. To memorize you.
Tears streamed down Elara's face. Why didn't you run? Why didn't you save yourself?
Because running wouldn't have saved you. The master would have hunted us forever. But hiding you—sealing you—giving you a chance to grow up unknown and unseen—that was the only way. The Queen smiled. And now you're here. In our home. About to become everything we hoped you would be.
I'm scared.
Of course you are. Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's fear, and doing it anyway. The Queen rose, approached her. You have your father's strength. My Sight. And the love of a mate who knelt for you. That's more than most queens ever have.
But the master—
*Will fall. I've seen it. Not clearly—the Sight is never clear about the future. But I've seen you standing in the light. Crowned. Victorious. Alive. *
The Queen reached out. Touched Elara's face.
I'm so proud of you, daughter. So proud of the woman you've become. And I'll be watching—when the Blood Moon rises, when you break the seal, when you claim your throne—I'll be watching. We all will.
Mother—
But the dream was fading. The Queen's form dissolving into light.
Be brave, Elara. Be bold. Be the queen we always knew you'd be.
I love you.
I love you too. Forever.
Elara woke in Kael's arms, tears streaming down her face.
But for the first time, they weren't tears of grief.
They were tears of hope.
---
Dawn broke on the final day before the Blood Moon.
Elara stood at the palace's highest tower, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of fire. Below her, the mist swirled—wards active, protecting, waiting.
Kael found her there.
"Morwenna says the runners have reached the first loyalist packs. Some are already moving—coming to join us." He wrapped his arms around her from behind. "We might have an army by tomorrow night."
"Will it be enough?"
"I don't know." Honest. Always honest now. "But we'll make it enough. Together."
Elara leaned into him. Let his warmth seep into her bones.
"The master has my blood," she said quietly. "He can find me anywhere. Even through the wards?"
"The wards will slow him. Confuse him. But eventually—" Kael's jaw tightened. "Eventually, he'll find a way through."
"Then we need to be ready. Before he arrives."
"We will be." He turned her to face him. "You'll break the seal tomorrow night. Become what you're meant to be. And then—" His silver eyes burned. "Then you'll show him what a real queen can do."
Elara looked at him—this fierce, broken, wonderful Alpha who'd rejected her and then chosen her and then knelt for her. Who'd fought for her and nearly died for her and loved her without understanding why.
Mine, she thought. He's mine. Forever.
"Kael." She touched his face. "Whatever happens tomorrow—whatever I become—I need you to know something."
"What?"
"I love you." The words came easily now, freed by the seal's partial release. "I loved you before I understood why. I loved you when you rejected me. I loved you when you knelt. And I'll love you tomorrow, and the day after, and for every day the Moon grants us."
Kael's eyes glistened. "Elara—"
"I'm not finished." She pressed her fingers to his lips. "You asked once what you are to me. You're my mate. My anchor. My home. And when this is over—when the master is defeated and the Crown is restored—I want to stand with you on that throne. Not as queen and consort. As equals. As partners. As forever."
Kael pulled her close. Kissed her with everything he had.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he spoke against her lips.
"Forever," he agreed. "That sounds perfect."
---
End of Chapter 17🐺