Introductions and Illusions

The celebration was dying like embers in a cold hearth. Other Royal guests had fled after Prince Lucian's and Nyma's feud, taking their threats and promises with them into the night. Nyma's own family lingered only long enough for tearful embraces and whispered concerns.

Her mother's kiss burned against her temple like a brand of protection. "Be strong, my daughter," she murmured, her eyes holding shadows that spoke of maternal intuition. "Storm clouds gather, but you were born in lightning."

Only Kael remained—her elder brother, solid and dependable as mountain stone. Beside him stood Raina, his mate and Nyma's closest friend, her dark eyes already cataloging exits and threats with the sharp focus of a warrior.

"Dawn," Kael said simply, his hand briefly squeezing Nyma's shoulder. "We leave for Raven Flack territory at dawn."

Nyma had requested the escort weeks ago. Better to birth her child surrounded by wolves who would die for her rather than those who might benefit from her death. The Lycan court had many allies, and trust was a luxury she could no longer afford.

But first, she had unfinished business.

Across the hall, Alpha Prince Adrain with his precious entourage—seven strangers who'd somehow earned more of his attention in one day than his pregnant wife had received in weeks. They clustered around him like parasites feeding off royal blood, she knew he doesn't interfere with his family and her dynamic but he should have said something when Lucian offered her that gift. Adrain acted as if he knew Lucian wouldn't give up and he can't do anything to stop him.

Nyma's patience, finally snapped.

She rose from her ceremonial chair with predatory grace. The remaining pack members fell silent as their Luna left the throne she was suppose to sit all night and moved through the hall with purpose, but now her midnight gown flowing behind her like a war banner.

The entourage noticed her approach and went quiet, seven pairs of eyes tracking her movement with varying degrees of wariness. Good. Nyma thought. They should be wary.

Prince Adrain looked back, startled, as if she were an unexpected interruption to his private party rather than his wife and the mother of his child.

"Husband," she said, her voice silk over steel. The endearment sounded more like an accusation. "Since your... friends seem to occupy so much of your attention, perhaps I should know their names?"

For half a heartbeat, guilt flickered across Adrain's features. Then it vanished, replaced by that practiced charm she'd once found irresistible and now recognized as a mask.

"Of course, my love." He moved smoothly, wrapping an arm around her waist in a possessive gesture that felt more like practice performance than affection. His lips pressed against her temple, but Nyma received the kiss with cold eyes. "Allow me to introduce my diplomatic contacts."

Diplomatic contacts. As if that explained their easy familiarity, their casual intimacy, their complete disregard for pack hierarchy.

The first stepped forward—a mountain of scarred muscle and barely contained violence. His presence filled the space like smoke from a funeral pyre.

"Alpha Cain," he grunted, offering just title not proper courtesy. His eyes held the flat, predatory stare of a killer for hire.

"A pleasure," Nyma lied smoothly, filing away the threat assessment. Dangerous but direct—the type who solved problems with claws and fangs rather than subtlety.

The second moved like liquid death—a woman whose every gesture spoke of hidden blades and buried secrets. Her smile promised pain wrapped in pleasure.

"Doctor Vasha," she purred, eyes trailing along Nyma's face. "Poison specialist. Expert in... discretion."

Nyma smiled back with equal venom. "How fascinating. I do hope your talents aren't required during your stay." The unspoken continuation hung in the air: because if they are, you'll discover mine.

Vasha's smile flickered, but she inclined her head in mock deference.

The third hung back in shadows—a wolf who spoke little but saw everything. His haunted eyes held the weight of sins that would crush lesser men.

"Eastern Alpha Dante," he murmured, his nod barely perceptible.

Nyma studied him carefully. Silent wolves were often the most dangerous, their stillness hiding depths of calculation and rage. But something in his posture spoke of protection rather than predation. An interesting contradiction.

"Welcome to Silvermoon," she said carefully, earning a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes.

The fourth and fifth stepped forward in perfect synchronization—twins whose eerie mirroring made it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. They moved like a single organism split into two bodies.

"Beta Dren," the male said with casual arrogance, nudging his sister. "And Female Beta Della."

Della's gaze raked over Nyma's pregnant form with calculating amusement. "We do what we want, when we want." She leaned forward, pressing air kisses to Nyma's cheeks with mocking intimacy. "Especially who we want."

The insinuation was delicate but unmistakable—a suggestion that even pregnant Lunas weren't safe from their appetites.

Nyma smiled, slow and deadly. "How bold." Her voice dropped to something soft and razor-edged. "I hope you never mistake hospitality for weakness. Or freedom for a lack of consequences."

Della's smirk faltered. Dren took an involuntary step backward.

"After all," Nyma continued pleasantly, "you're guests under my roof. In my territory. Protected by my packs grace." Her silver eyes glittered like starlight on winter ice. "I do hope you'll appreciate and remember that during your stay."

The twins exchanged uncertain glances. Perhaps they'd expected a cowed, neglected wife rather than a Luna who'd publicly broken Lycan magic with her bare hands.

Then the sixth member stepped forward, and the temperature in the room plummeted.

"She's father's Beta daughter, Lira," Prince Adrain introduced her, his voice carrying a warmth that sent ice through Nyma's veins.

The woman who emerged from the shadows was breathtaking—all midnight curls and golden skin, her smile sharp as a blade and twice as cutting. She moved with the fluid confidence of someone who'd never been denied anything she'd wanted as if including, apparently, other women's husbands.

And Nyma's gaze squinted when Lira smiled and bowed to Prince Adrain and not to her.

"Lira," Nyma repeated, as if tasting ash and betrayal. So she's the Lycan King's royal beta daughter. She knew that name. Had heard it whispered in passing months ago when Adrain thought she wasn't listening. His childhood friend. or perhaps his first lover.

His almost-mate.

"Just a youthful mistake," Once they had discovered their mate bonds Prince Adrain had assured Nyma when she'd asked. "Ancient history. She means nothing now."

But the woman standing before her didn't look like ancient history. She looked like a ghost that had never been properly buried, and would come back to reclaim what she'd lost.

Worse, she looked like she belonged here. Like she fit into Prince Adrain's world in ways Nyma never had, never could.

"How lovely to finally meet you," Nyma said, her voice honey over poison. "Adrain mentioned you once. Briefly." The emphasis made it clear exactly how briefly and how dismissively.

Lira's perfect smile never wavered, but something dangerous flickered behind her dark eyes. "Did he? That would be my greatess honor! How... sweet."

The air between them crackled with feminine warfare—subtle, vicious, and deadly as any blade. Around them, the other wolves shifted uncomfortably, sensing predators circling.

But Nyma had been raised among wolves who considered dominance a birthright and extremly territorial. She'd learned not just to survive their games, but to win them.

"Now that I know who you all are," she said, turning back to include the entire group, "I trust you remember who I am."

The silence stretched like a held breath.

"I am Nyma Ravengale," Her voice carried the weight of absolute authority, earned through blood and sacrifice rather than inherited through bloodlines. "Luna of the Silvermoon Pack. Wife to Alpha Adrain, chosen not by political convenience but by the sacred bond of true mates. Mother of his heir and keeper of the home he returns to."

She let her gaze drift over each of them—not in challenge, but in quiet acknowledgment of the hierarchy they seemed determined to ignore.

"You are guests in my territory, please enjoy the hospitality." Her smile was arctic. "I do hope you'll conduct yourselves accordingly."

The dismissal was elegant, absolute, and utterly unmistakable. One by one, the entourage found reasons to be elsewhere, slipping away like shadows before dawn.

Only Lira lingered, her dark eyes holding Nyma's in a moment of pure feminine understanding. They were enemies now, officially and irrevocably. The declaration had been made.

"Sweet dreams, Luna," Lira murmured, the title sounding like mockery on her lips.

Then she too melted into the darkness, leaving Nyma alone with her husband and the wreckage of her illusions.