7: Theodore

Our conversation continued, each exchange building a delicate bridge across the chasm of difference between us—Lycan and werewolf, king and gamma, man and woman with vastly different experiences. She told me about her brother's terrible cooking attempts, I shared stories of ceremonial disasters. She described a midnight run through summer forests; I recalled the view from the kingdom's highest peak at dawn.

With each passing minute, she relaxed incrementally. Her gestures became more natural, her smiles more frequent. My hope grew alongside her comfort, a tentative seedling breaking through hard soil.

Then I noticed Minister Bennett approaching, his angular face set in what he likely believed was dignified purpose but what I recognized as officious self-importance. His timing couldn't have been worse.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply. "Might I have a word about the agricultural subsidies we discussed earlier?"

Before I could respond, Emma straightened, her mask of careful neutrality sliding back into place. "Theo, I'm just going to go find my brother. I'll see you in a little while."

She was retreating, the connection we'd built already fraying. I opened my mouth to ask her to stay, but Bennett spoke first.

"You will use our King's title when you speak to him, wolf," he said, his tone dripping with the condescension that too many of my councilors still considered appropriate when addressing werewolves.

Emma froze, turning slowly to face Bennett. One eyebrow rose with deliberate precision, her entire demeanor shifting from the woman who had smiled at my jokes to something cooler, harder—the gamma of Blood Moon Pack, accustomed to disrespect but unwilling to bow to it.

My anger flared, hot and immediate. "Bennett," I said, my voice carrying the edge I typically reserved for council meetings when patience had run thin, "I told her to use my name, and you would do well to remember that." I paused, letting my displeasure settle over him like a physical weight. "And she has a name, Minister."

Bennett's throat bobbed as he swallowed, suddenly aware of his misstep.

"Minister Bennett," I continued, keeping my tone controlled despite my wolf's urge to growl, "allow me to formally introduce Gamma Emeline Maxwell of the Blood Moon Pack." I held his gaze steadily. "My mate."

His eyes widened slightly, the only visible reaction to news that would soon send shockwaves through the kingdom. To his credit, he recovered quickly, offering Emma a stiff bow.

"We've met already, Theo," Emma said, her voice cool but impeccably polite. "A couple of years ago."

I raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I was helping one of our neighbours, the Blue Mountain Pack," she explained, her eyes never leaving Bennett's increasingly uncomfortable face. "Their pack buildings suffered major damage in an earthquake. Minister Bennett was there to determine how the Crown and Council could financially contribute to rebuilding efforts."

Bennett's expression had grown fixed, his perpetual frown deepening at the corners.

"Minister," I prompted when he remained silent. "I wasn't aware you had dealings with Blue Mountain."

"A minor relief effort," he said dismissively.

Emma's smile didn't reach her eyes. "How is the pack doing, Minister? I’m sure you received updates on their recovery?"

Bennett shifted his weight slightly. "I receive many reports from many regions, Gamma Maxwell. I cannot be expected to recall every detail."

"You'd know if you followed through on your promises, Minister," Emma replied, her voice steady but edged with steel. "Blue Mountain ended up borrowing funding from other packs because you failed to deliver the support you promised."

The air between us changed, charged with the static of confrontation. My focus sharpened on Bennett, whose discomfort had transformed to poorly concealed alarm.

"Explain yourself, Minister," I said, my voice deceptively quiet. The anger that had flared at his rudeness now burned hotter at this suggestion of broken promises and neglected duties.

Bennett drew himself up, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his impeccable jacket. "The situation was reassessed, Your Majesty. The funding was better spent elsewhere."

"And where was that, Minister?" The question emerged as a near growl, my control slipping as Bennett's bureaucratic evasion continued.

His gaze met mine, unflinching despite the dangerous territory he navigated. "The council building needed to be refurnished," he stated, his voice strong, as though the words should end all discussion.

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. Furniture. He had denied aid to families left homeless by natural disasters for furniture.

"Let me understand this clearly," I said, each word precise and cutting. "You redirected emergency relief funds—approved by me personally, if I recall—to purchase new chairs and tables for a building that was fully functional?"

Bennett's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "The council chambers represent the dignity of your government, Your Majesty. The previous furnishings were outdated and unworthy of your reign."

I felt Emma watching this exchange closely, measuring my response. In this moment, I was not just a man speaking with his mate—I was a king whose minister had defied direct orders, whose priorities revealed a corruption of values I had been fighting to change since taking the throne.

"Minister Bennett," I said, my voice deadly calm, "you will report to my office tomorrow morning with complete documentation of all emergency funds allocated and spent during the past five years. You will then personally visit Blue Mountain Pack to assess their current situation and determine what reparations are appropriate." I leaned slightly closer. "And you will apologise directly to Alpha Greyson for the Crown's failure to honour its commitment."

Bennett's face had paled, but he maintained his composure. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

"Furthermore," I continued, "you will draft a proposal for restructuring the emergency relief approval process to prevent such... redirections... in the future."

"That is not within my purview alone, Your Majesty. The council—"

"Will receive my instructions on this matter tomorrow," I finished for him. "That will be all, Minister."

The dismissal was unmistakable. Bennett bowed stiffly, first to me and then, with visible reluctance, to Emma. He departed without another word, his posture rigid with suppressed indignation.

When he was beyond earshot, I turned back to Emma. Her expression was carefully neutral, but something in her eyes had changed—a reassessment, perhaps.

"I apologise for that unpleasantness," I said. "And for not knowing about Blue Mountain's situation."

She studied me for a moment before responding. "You can't know everything happening in your kingdom."

"No," I agreed. "But I should know when my direct orders aren't carried out."

A slight smile touched her lips. "Is that what happened here? Your orders defied?"

"I approved emergency funding for all affected territories after that earthquake," I confirmed. "With specific instructions that housing reconstruction take priority."

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. "And the furniture?"

My jaw tightened. "Was not even mentioned, much less approved."

"What will happen to him?" she asked, her tone suggesting idle curiosity though her eyes remained sharp with interest.

I considered my answer carefully, aware that my response would tell her much about the kind of king—and man—I was. "That depends on what else I find in those financial records. This may be an isolated incident of misguided priorities, or..." I let the implication hang between us.

"Or evidence of corrupt ideologies," she finished.

"Yes."

She tilted her head slightly. "And if it's the latter?"

"Then Minister Bennett will find himself seeking new employment," I said simply. "And possibly facing more severe consequences, depending on the extent of the discrepancies."

Emma nodded, satisfied with my answer but not surprised by it. She had been testing me, I realized—not my authority, but my character. Would I protect my minister at the expense of werewolf packs? Would I value appearances over actual governance?

"I meant what I said on the balcony, Emma," I said quietly. "I am not him."

She didn't pretend to misunderstand. Her gaze softened slightly, vulnerability peeking through her carefully maintained composure. "I know. At least... I think I'm starting to believe it."

It wasn't a declaration of love, nor an acceptance of the mate bond that hummed between us. But it was a beginning—a fragile tendril of trust extending across the divide of our different worlds and her wounded past.

For now, that was enough.