4: Emma

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below and the continued music from the ballroom behind us.

"Who hurt her?" Theo's question was directed at Elijah, his tone shifting from the gentle one he'd used with me to something harder, more authoritative. "Who was her first mate?"

Elijah's jaw tightened, his protective instincts visibly warring with his respect for royal authority. "Alpha Benjamin Thorne from Silver Crescent Pack," he answered finally. "It was messy, my King," Elijah continued, his voice carefully controlled. "I brought her back home after the split, and she took over as my gamma."

What my brother didn't say—what he couldn't possibly convey in those simple words—was how he'd found me that night, curled into myself in a corner of Benjamin's territory lodge, blood from my split lip staining the collar of my shirt. How he'd defied pack law by entering another Alpha's territory uninvited, how he'd carried me out when my legs wouldn't support me. How the diplomatic fallout had nearly resulted in open conflict between our packs.

“My King, could I have a moment alone with my sister?” Elijah's voice may have been formal, but his concern was blatant.

“Of course, Alpha Maxwell, I'll be inside.” He turned to Elena, offering his arm and leading her back inside. “Luna Elena, I'd love to hear more about your pack's defence arrangements, I hear they are something to be proud of.”

The balcony doors whispered shut behind Theo and Elena, leaving Elijah and me alone with the night air and the impossible weight of what had just happened. The King's scent lingered, wrapping around me like a promise I was afraid to believe. My fingers trembled against the cold stone balustrade as I stared out at the glittering expanse of the Royal City, each light a distant star I could never reach.

Elijah didn't speak immediately. The silence between us felt both comforting and charged with unasked questions. From inside the ballroom, muted strains of music and conversation filtered through the thick glass, a reminder of the world continuing to turn while mine had tilted on its axis.

"Talk to me, Em," he said finally, stepping beside me at the railing. "What's going through your mind?"

The question was so simple, yet it unleashed a storm inside me. I shook my head, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

"I can't do this again, Elijah," I whispered, my voice fracturing on the words. "I just can't." My hands curled into fists against the stone, knuckles whitening with pressure. "My wolf is so sure this is right, but the rest of me is absolutely terrified of being hurt like that again."

My wolf whined inside me, still straining toward the connection with her mate, her certainty at odds with my human fear. The contradiction tore at me from within, a war I couldn't resolve.

Elijah turned to face me, his eyes reflecting moonlight like dark pools. "The King isn't anything like Benjamin Thorne, Em. Nothing at all."

I laughed, a harsh sound with no humour in it. "How would you know? You've met him, what, twice? At formal functions?"

"I've watched him," Elijah said quietly. "For years. We all have. His policies, his decisions, the way he treats those with less power."

A cool night breeze lifted strands of my hair, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers from the royal gardens below. I closed my eyes, trying to centre myself, but all I could smell was cedar and stone, honey and lightning. Theo's scent, now imprinted on my very soul.

"Benjamin was charming too, in the beginning," I said, opening my eyes to the distant city lights. "He knew exactly what to say, how to act. Everyone thought he was wonderful."

"Benjamin's charm was calculation," Elijah countered. "Theodore's actions show consistency, integrity. Benjamin wanted control. The King is seeking equality, even when it costs him politically."

I turned toward him, searching my brother's face for any hint of doubt or deception. I found none.

"You said it yourself, Em. You can feel the bond." His voice softened. "When have our wolves ever been wrong about what's good for us? Benjamin wasn't your true mate. You had a temporary bond that formed before your wolf recognized the incompatibility."

My chest tightened with the familiar mix of shame and relief that always accompanied discussions of my failed first mating. Years had passed since Elijah had gotten me out of Silver Crescent territory in the middle of the night, but the wounds felt fresh whenever I allowed myself to remember.

"That's not how Benjamin saw it," I murmured, the words bitter on my tongue. "He said I was defective. That a proper mate would have accepted his... correction."

Elijah's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. Even now, years later, his protective rage surfaced at the mention of what Benjamin had done.

"Benjamin was wrong about everything," he said firmly. "Theodore has never shown any hint of that kind of behavior. He values autonomy, respects boundaries. Look at how he left when I asked for a moment with you, despite the pull he must be feeling."

I glanced at the balcony doors, remembering the way Theo had backed away, giving me space despite the obvious tension in his powerful frame. Benjamin would have refused, would have insisted on his right to remain.

"He fought his own council for three years to establish educational equality laws. When the Shadow Valley Pack suffered that flash flood last winter, he was there personally, helping with evacuation efforts," Elijah continued.

These facts weren't new to me. I'd heard the stories, seen the evidence of Theodore's progressive policies. But acknowledging his public virtues meant allowing for the possibility that this mate bond wasn't another cruel trick of fate—and hope felt more dangerous than fear.

"And the political implications?" I asked, voicing my next concern. "He might be making waves in pushing for equality, but a werewolf as his mate, as the queen..." I shook my head, the enormity of it settling over me like a suffocating blanket. "It's never going to be taken well."

Elijah didn't immediately contradict me, which I appreciated. My brother had never been one to offer false reassurances.

"It would be unprecedented," he acknowledged. "There would be resistance, especially from the traditional Lycan families. But it would also be powerful—a living embodiment of the unity he's working toward."

I turned back to face the city below, its concentric circles of light arranged like ripples in a pond. Somewhere in its heart, the royal palace rose toward the stars, ancient and imposing. The thought of living there, of belonging there, sent a shiver down my spine.

"I don't know how to be a queen, Elijah," I whispered. "I barely managed as a luna."

"That's not true," he said sharply. "You were an excellent luna. Benjamin's abuse wasn't a reflection of your capabilities."

But the poison had sunk deep, taking root in places I couldn't always reach. I felt tears gathering again, hot and unwanted.

"He told me," I began, my voice threatening to break, "constantly, that I deserved what I got because I was a bad luna and an even worse mate." The tears spilled over, tracing warm paths down my cold cheeks. "What chance have I got of being a good queen?"

My shoulders shook with the effort of containing sobs. Years of rebuilding myself, of learning to trust my own judgment again, and one scent, one moment had brought all the old insecurities rushing back.

"Emeline Maxwell," Elijah said, using my full name as he had since we were children playing in the forests of our territory. He turned me gently to face him, his hands warm and steady on my shoulders. "You were an amazing luna. You're an amazing gamma. And anyone would be lucky to have you as their mate."

A sob escaped me then, the kind that rises from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. Elijah pulled me into his arms, enveloping me in the familiar scent of pack and family and home. I pressed my face against his shoulder, letting the tears come. His hand moved in slow circles between my shoulder blades, the way our mother used to comfort us as children.

"You run our security with more precision than any gamma in three territories," he murmured against my hair. "You've negotiated peace between feuding families. You tracked that stray through a storm and brought him back alive when everyone else was ready to write him off."

Each example was a small light in the darkness of my doubt. I knew these things were true, yet they felt disconnected from the terrified part of me that remembered cowering in corners, making myself small to avoid attention.

"The Blood Moon Pack thrives because of you," Elijah continued. "Every day, you prove yourself capable of far more than Benjamin ever allowed you to believe."

He pulled back slightly, looking down at me with a gentleness at odds with his strength. Without a word, he lifted his sleeve and wiped my tear-streaked face, the gesture so reminiscent of our childhood that it brought a watery smile to my lips.

"There she is," he said softly. "There's my sister."