Lara lay back against the pillows, fingers lightly brushing her lips, the memory of Thornak's kiss still warm on her lips. Her heart fluttered at the thought of it, gentle, unexpected, and filled with a heat that made her toes curl beneath the covers.
A soft knock broke through the quiet.
Before she could sit up fully, Iris and Jasmine pushed open the door with twin smiles.
"Come on, we need to make sure your gown is perfect." Iris seemed so excited.
Jasmine gave her a quick once-over and smirked.
The three of them walked briskly through the corridors of the palace, the morning bustle all around them.
When they arrived at the royal seamstress's workshop, the scene inside was exactly what they'd expected.
Lady Selene stood before the mirrors in her gown, surrounded by a group of laughing ladies as they fussed over jewelry and sashes. Selene turned slightly, her sharp eyes catching sight of them immediately.
The seamstress, a petite woman with silver-streaked hair pulled tightly into a bun, emerged from the back room with a grim expression. "Lady Lara," she said quietly, "I… I think you should see this."
She laid the gown on the table, what should have been a beautiful work of art in soft moon-gold silk was now a shredded ruin. Jagged slashes had torn through the bodice, the sleeves left hanging by threads, and muddy boot prints stained the delicate hem.
Lara stared, her breath catching. The destruction wasn't accidental. This had been deliberate.
Iris gasped. "Gods…"
Jasmine stepped forward, her mouth tight with fury. "Someone did this on purpose."
The seamstress looked heartbroken. "I swear, my lady, it was locked away just last night. I only stepped out briefly this morning to prepare the dyes. No one else should have had access."
Lara gently touched a frayed edge. "It's all right. It's not your fault."
Jasmine turned to Iris, voice low but sharp. "Selene. I'm sure of it. She must've sent someone. She was already parading around in her gown when we arrived."
Iris bit her lip, glancing toward Lara. "We need to tell Thornak."
"No," Lara said softly but firmly, straightening. "I don't want trouble and am sure he has more important things on his mind."
Jasmine's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I have an idea," she said, already tugging Iris toward the door. "But we'll need to move fast."
....
Jasmine stormed into the king's study without knocking, her expression set. Thornak looked up from the scrolls on his desk, one brow arching.
"I need funds," she declared. "A lot. Now."
His eyes narrowed slightly, more curious than annoyed. "For?"
"A dress," she said flatly. "Lara's was sabotaged by Selene am sure. I don't have time to explain. But if you want her to walk into the Moon Binding Ceremony with any dignity left, you'll trust me."
He reached into the drawer and handed her a heavy pouch of coin without counting. "Take what you need."
"I will," she said smiling.
....
The Moonstone Courtyard shimmered beneath the rising moon, its polished stone floor glowing faintly as if absorbing the light of the goddess herself. Silver lanterns floated in midair, swaying gently on invisible threads of magic, casting soft halos across the faces of the gathered elite. The scent of midnight roses, a bloom that only opened under moonlight, filled the air.
The high-ranking Alphas had arrived men and women with piercing eyes and proud gaits, dressed in beautiful suits and gowns. Their presence alone caused murmurs to ripple through the crowd.
Then the music paused.
A single gong rang out, a deep, resonant sound that silenced the courtyard.
From behind the arched silver columns, Thornak emerged.
Clad in ceremonial black and silver, his long coat embroidered with the crest of Vargorath, he looked every inch the king. Power clung to him like a second skin.
The Temple of the Eclipse stood cloaked in silence, its marble floors bathed in moonlight that streamed through the open dome above. Around the sacred fire basin, high-ranking Alphas and envoys gathered in reverent stillness, dressed in ceremonial cloaks and gowns. The air carried the solemn scent of sacred herbs and silver ash.
At the center, the ancient Lycan priestess stepped forward, her robes shimmering like woven starlight. She raised the moonstone lantern high, the pale flame within dancing gently.
"In the presence of the Moon," she declared, her voice clear and steady, "we kindle the fire of unity, of binding, of ancient strength."
She lowered the lantern to the wide stone basin, and the moment the flame kissed the oil within, it bloomed into silver-blue fire, bright, otherworldly, casting flickering light across the ancient runes etched around the temple.
"This flame burns only for truth and honor," she continued, "and it will not lie. Before it, old grudges dissolve, and new bonds take root."
The gathered Alphas stepped forward in turn, offering tokens of allegiance, drops of blood. Thornak watched it all in silence, a towering presence beside his council. He said nothing, but his stillness spoke volumes.
Whispers threaded through the crowd as the priestess began reciting the binding oaths, ancient words that echoed across the courtyard like a heartbeat of old magic.
And then the time came.
"Let the king stand before the flame," the priestess said.
As the final echoes of the priestess's words faded, the silver-blue fire responded, flaring tall one last time, casting wild, dancing shadows across the Temple walls. For a breathless moment, it seemed to reach toward Thornak, licking the air around him, testing the man who stood at its heart.
Then the flame settled, steady and unwavering.
A clear sign, the flame had accepted him.
The priestess gave a solemn nod. "The Moon Goddess recognizes the king. May his rule be just, and his bonds unbreakable."
A thunder of respectful applause followed, echoing beneath the arched dome and rolling across the open courtyard. Some of the Alphas bowed their heads; others exchanged knowing glances. In this sacred moment, politics sharpened. Every move from here on would echo through alliances, bloodlines, and territory.
Queen Maravelle stood among the court, her hands clasped before her, her expression unreadable.
And just behind her, Selene.
She was draped in gold and obsidian, an elaborate gown that shimmered like firelight with every step she took. The bodice clung like armor, sculpted to accentuate her sharp beauty, and her neckline was studded with stones meant to resemble fallen stars. A circlet of black diamonds crowned her midnight hair, and her lips, painted a deep crimson, curved in a practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes.
She exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on Thornak as if willing his attention.
But the king didn't glance her way.
He turned instead to the gathered Alphas and nodded once, an invitation, a signal that the sacred rites had passed, and celebration could begin.
The moment the king stepped down from the flame basin, the sacred fire behind him slowly dimmed into a low, ethereal glow, meant to burn until dawn.
The music swelled again, this time softer, silkier.
Servants dressed in black and moon-white flowed from the shadows with polished trays of wine, golden fruits, and jewel-toned delicacies. A soft murmur began to rise from the guests, with the excitement building.
An attendant blew a delicate horn, signaling the shift from ceremony to festivity.
Beyond the Temple's edge, the ballroom doors were opened wide. Warm light poured out, revealing a breathtaking space adorned in moonlight hues, pearl and silver, deep indigo, and ice blue. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen constellations, glittering as if stars themselves had been summoned to bear witness.
The guests moved inward, their voices growing livelier, their steps more eager.
But tension still simmered beneath the glittering surface. The first dance of the Moon Binding Ball was not merely tradition, it was declaration.
Every noble knew it.
And every eye would be on Thornak.
At the beginning of the ball, Selene moved through the marble hall like a flame that demanded to be seen, flanked by her ladies.
She made it a point to speak to every noble Alpha and council elder in attendance. Her voice carried, silken and assured, as she complimented wives, exchanged pointed jokes with the lords, and dropped carefully timed remarks about unity, bloodlines, and the importance of choosing strong leadership.
"I've always believed that strength in a mate reflects the strength of a ruler," she said once, casually, as her gaze drifted toward the front of the hall.
Every word was calculated. Every gesture artfully placed. She was not simply attending the ball, she was performing in it.
And when she caught sight of Thornak entering the room, her spine straightened, her smile widened, and her laughter grew a touch louder, just enough to be heard across the room.
But then, before anyone else, Selene's eyes landed on Lara.
The smile she had been flashing, sweet and calculating froze on her face. Her eyes locked on Lara, narrowing. It was supposed to be a humiliation. The ruined dress. The ruined night. And yet...
She looked stunning, A bolt of anger flaring behind her ribs. A low growl stirred inside Selene's mind, her wolf, snarling at the perceived challenge.
The wine-red gown she wore hugged her shoulders and fell in elegant folds around her form, regal and effortless. The off-shoulder neckline revealed the elegant line of her collarbones, while the bodice, folded in flawless geometric lines accentuated her slender waist and graceful frame. The silk chiffon shimmered with every movement, the skirt flowing around her like liquid starlight, trailing behind her as though reluctant to let go.
Her golden hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves, a silver circlet resting gently across her brow. She didn't need jewels. She was luminous on her own.
A noble woman near her leaned in and whispered, "Who is she and what is she wearing? That's not one of the palace tailors."
"Certainly not," Selene replied coolly, regaining control of her tone. "She must have begged for a secondhand piece from the market." But the bitterness behind her words bled through.
The other woman raised a brow. "Well, if that's from the market, perhaps I should be shopping there too."
Selene's nails dug into her palm, smile tightening as Lara continued forward, flanked by Thornak's sisters, radiant and calm.
And when Thornak turned to look, when his gaze fell on Lara and stayed there, Selene knew her plan had not only failed.
It had backfired spectacularly.