Chapter Eleven: The Royal Ball

The sapphire silk clung to Elara’s skin like a restrictive shroud, a stark contrast to the velvet chains that already bound her. It was beautiful, undoubtedly so, flowing over her swollen belly in a way that almost softened the harsh angles pregnancy had carved into her face. But the beauty felt like a mockery, a gilded cage for a bird with clipped wings.

In a way, the silk is not just a physical confinement but also an emotional suffocation. To Elara, the silk is a tangible reminder of her husband's control over her.

“Don’t embarrass me, Elara." Damon's voice, cold and sharp, cut through the silence of their bedroom. He stood before her, a dark wolf draped in tailored black, his eyes gleaming with a barely contained ambition. "This is important. The royals are… particular. One wrong move from you and I will make you pay dearly, understand?”

Elara swallowed, the words like shards of glass in her throat. “Yes, Damon.”

“Damon?” He raised his brow, giving her a chance to correct herself.

“Yes, Alpha.”

He circled her, his fingers brushing, not gently, against her arm. "Remember, smile, nod, and speak when spoken to. And for the love of the Moon Goddess, don't waddle."

Damon turned on his heel and she was left alone in the oppressive silence of the room. She pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the faint flutter of her sons within her. For them, she reminded herself, her mantra, her shield against the constant barbs. For them, I can endure anything.

The pack house hall was a cacophony of nervous energy. Laughter felt forced, conversation stilted. As Elara descended the grand staircase, all eyes turned towards her. Some held pity, others indifference, and still others, like Clara, Damon’s mother, outright disdain.

Clara, a woman who favored emerald green and razor-sharp wit, rose from her seat, her gaze sweeping over Elara with undisguised disapproval. "Damon, darling, are you certain this is wise? Taking her of all people. Such a prestigious event… wouldn't you be better off finding a suitable date? There are plenty of eligible she-wolves here."

Damon’s jaw tightened. "Having a pregnant mate shows strength, Mother. It shows I can provide, that I'm virile and capable. It demonstrates my pack's future. The royals will appreciate that." He punctuated his statement with a possessive hand on Elara's lower back, a gesture devoid of warmth.

Clara’s eyes narrowed but she held her tongue, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Elara felt the sting of tears threaten to spill, but she forced them back. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

The journey to the Royal Palace passed in a suffocating silence. Damon radiated tension, his eyes constantly flicking to the rearview mirror, ensuring Elara maintained her composure.

The palace was a symphony of shimmering light and hushed reverence. Torches blazed, illuminating manicured gardens that stretched into the twilight. Servants in crisp uniforms glided through the crowds, offering champagne flutes and delectable canapés. The air hummed with power, with the scent of wealth and ancient magic.

Inside, the grand ballroom shimmered like a starlit sky. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow on the elegantly dressed werewolves, whispering conversations mingling with the soft strains of classical music. The air was thick with expectation, anticipation hanging heavy like a velvet curtain.

“Alpha,” Elara called out, getting Damon's attention. “We should look for a spot to sit.” She calmly requested but earned a glare from Damon.

“Do you in any way think you're bigger or more important than everyone standing? It's not yet time to sit, so shut up and control those hormones.” Damon yelled every word into her ear, and she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat.

Elara, tethered to Damon's side, felt suffocated. The crowd pressed in, their stares dissecting her, judging her. She focused on breathing, on the comforting weight of her unborn sons.

Damon, ever the opportunist, maneuvered them through the throng, introducing himself to important figures, showering them with compliments, his eyes glinting with ambition. Elara, as instructed, smiled, nodded, and offered polite responses when addressed. She felt like a puppet, her strings pulled by a master manipulator.

A hush fell over the ballroom. The music faded, the conversations died down. A collective intake of breath swept through the room. All heads turned towards the grand staircase.

A deep voice, laced with authority, echoed through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the werewolf community, it is with great pleasure that I present to you… Prince Kaelen Thana."

Elara’s breath hitched. Kaelen? Here? No, she thought frantically. It couldn’t be. It's definitely not the same Kaelen, right? I mean, Kaelen is obviously but not a prince.

And then he appeared. He descended the staircase with a grace that belied his formidable strength. He was taller than she remembered, broader, his features sharper, hardened by responsibility. And his eyes… those piercing green eyes that had haunted her dreams…

His gaze swept over the crowd, a polite, acknowledging smile gracing his lips. And then his eyes locked with hers. Recognition flashed, sharp and undeniable, followed by something deeper, something that sent a jolt of raw electricity through Elara.

For a heartbeat, the world around them ceased to exist. There was only him, bathed in the golden light, and her, tethered to a man who would never truly see her. A silent recognition passed between them, a shared understanding of a path not taken, of a love lost before it could even begin.

“Kael” Elara whispered under her breath.

And then, the world crashed back in. Damon stiffened beside her, his grip tightening on her arm. The crowd erupted in applause.

Prince Kaelen. Her Kaelen. The man she had met in her moment of pain and weakness but still managed to bring out her strength just to save him, the man who had offered her solace and a fleeting glimpse of a different life, was the future ruler of them all. And he was looking at her, his eyes filled with questions she didn't know how to answer.