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The Coronation Day
Last Updated:
2025-07-28 19:29:32
Latest chapter
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate Crowned in Legacy
Nyra’s POVThe world quieted the moment the grand hall doors closed behind me.For a fleeting heartbeat, everything else ceased to exist. No past. No threats. No lingering shadows of fire or betrayal. Just now. Just this moment. The soft rustle of silk beneath my steps. The warmth of golden light pouring through the stained-glass windows. The low hum of awe and reverence in the air.And Auren.He stood beneath the towering moonstone arch, shoulders squared in ceremonial black and silver. A golden sash crossed his chest, the mark of the Alpha Heir, but his gaze was all for me, unwavering, soft, and wide with the kind of wonder that made something in me tremble.There was no music, no grand announcement, and yet every soul in the room held their breath. My gown shimmered like starlight, custom-stitched with woven moon-thread and ancient sigils stitched by hand; Lydia had made sure of it. The silver veil that trailed behind me glinted with intricate beadwork, a map of constellations and
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate The Coronation Day
Nyra’s POV The sky was still painted in shades of lavender when I opened my eyes.The room smelled faintly of roses, cinnamon, and something sweet and grounding, Lydia was doing. I blinked against the gentle light filtering in from the half-drawn curtains and listened. For a moment, the world felt still.Today was the day.The final fittings started just after sunrise. The moment I stepped into the room prepared for me, Lydia and three women from Crescent Moon’s best tailoring coven descended with careful hands, soft smiles, and delicate pins. They spoke in hushed tones, weaving silks and symbols around me, all layered with old magic and protective blessings.Lydia, as usual, was a whirlwind of energy and quiet command.“Oh, you’ll break hearts today, Nyra,” she beamed, fastening the delicate white gold embroidery across the bodice. “Even the moon might weep with envy.”I gave her a look, but she only laughed and spun me around so the seamstress could cinch the waist tighter.The fab
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate His Confession
Nyra’s POVThe final fitting was supposed to be quick. A simple check to make sure everything was perfect for the coronation tomorrow. The seamstress, older and soft-spoken, had just smiled gently as she guided me behind the fold of thick curtains. I didn’t suspect anything. Not then.But then the needle never touched the fabric.A hand clamped over my mouth, and darkness rushed around me like something, no, someone, blindfolded me. I kicked back, instinct bristling, but I never got the chance to land a blow. Whoever it was moved fast. Silently. Too precisely. I didn’t smell danger, oddly enough. Just pine and warmth. Familiar.But fear clawed its way through my chest anyway.Not again. Not like before.They didn’t speak. Just guided me, firm but not cruel. I heard the rustle of trees, felt leaves brushing my arms. We were outside. Dread swelled inside me like a rising tide.I wanted to scream. To tear off the blindfold. But I didn’t. Because somehow, deep in my bones, I knew I wasn’t
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate Veils of Deception
Nyra’s POVMy head was spinning from all the political wrangling and preparation that took place during the remainder of the day. I had a series of well-planned meetings with visiting allies, including pack leaders with sharp eyes and grizzled features, envoys with sealed letters from far-off places, and old acquaintances whose presence was reassuring and a reminder of how much had changed.They all brought presents, well-wishes, and silk-wrapped good intentions.A silver blade from the mountain packs, blessed moonstone jewelry from the coastal territories, rare herbs for protection and strength. And behind each smile, each embrace, each carefully worded compliment, there were questions threading through every conversation like poison through wine. How stable is your reign? What threats still linger in the shadows? Is the Crescent Moon ready to rise again, or are we witnessing the beginning of another fall?Some came with more than just polite curiosity. Just after noon, the High P
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate Stitching Shadows
Nyra’s POVStreaming through the enormous mullioned windows and brushing across the polished hardwood floors of the tailoring room, the sun's golden beams eased the frigid tightness in my chest.The slanted light beam caused dust particles to dance, giving the scene an almost ethereal feel that contrasted with the seriousness of what was being prepared.Standing on a slightly elevated stage, I draped thick, opulent fabric over my shoulder and held out my arms like a scarecrow. I had underestimated the weight of the material, which was rich with silver thread embroidery that gleamed with every slight movement.The seamstress circled me like a resolute bird, her brows knitted in concentration behind wire-rimmed glasses, her old hands deft and swift as she fastened and adjusted.She had been the top seamstress of the pack for more than twenty years and every exact fold and measurement demonstrated her skill. She had made ceremonial robes for three generations of leaders.With experienced
Alpha Draven's Regret: The Return of His Rejected Mate The Determination
Nyra’s POVThe scent of smoke still clung faintly to the morning air, no matter how many incense burners we lit or how many times the ash was cleared from the earth. It had settled in the bones of the pack, subtle but undeniable, like the whisper of a ghost that refused to leave. Even the wind seemed reluctant to carry it away, as if the very air held onto the memory of what had been lost.But life moved forward. It always did.And so did we.The burnt remains of the barn had been cleared by mid-morning, the charred beams and twisted metal hauled away by work crews who moved with the efficiency of those who’d seen too much destruction lately. Only the blackened soil remained now, cordoned off by rope and guarded as a crime scene. It stood like a scar across our otherwise untouched land, and I hated how loud it felt, even in its silence. The investigators had already come and gone twice, their clipboards and cameras documenting everything while revealing nothing useful. Whoever had don
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