Chapter Twelve: Prince Kaelen

The gilded ballroom shimmered, reflecting the light from a thousand candles. And it’s like Kaelen’s presence made Elara notice the breathtaking atmosphere, but as she looked at Damon, she felt like a weed choking in a garden of prize roses. Tonight was the Royal Gathering, a chance for Alpha packs across the land to pay homage to the reigning monarch and, more importantly, to each other. Damon, her mate, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, treated her like an accessory, a broodmare draped in finery. His hand pressed into the small of her back wasn't a gesture of affection, but a claim, a possessive brand.

He was currently engrossed in conversation with Alpha Theron, his friend and ally, who's also the alpha of Crimson Claw pack, their voices low and laced with ambition. Elara knew the game. Damon was always playing, always scheming to climb the ranks of power. She was merely a pawn.

"You look… acceptable, Elara," Damon's mother drawled, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. The older woman’s eyes, sharp and calculating, raked over Elara’s rounded belly. "One would hope you deliver strong pups, after all the… trouble you've caused." She remarked like they didn't all come from the same house, whatever insult she has to offer Elara could have been offered back at the pack house before they came to the royal palace but oh that wouldn't be disgraceful enough.

Elara clenched her jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. She’d learned long ago that silence was her only weapon against her mother-in-law's cruelty. There was no winning against a woman who saw her as nothing more than a threat to her son's position.

The music swelled, a waltz that filled the cavernous room with a bittersweet melody. Alphas, their Omegas adorned in shimmering silks, glided across the polished floor. Elara felt a pang of longing, a phantom sensation of being held, cherished, danced with. A life she knew she'd never have with Damon.

Then, she gazed at him.

Across the room, near the raised dais where the King held court, stood the man whose presence resonated like a low, primal growl. He was taller than most Alphas, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his dark tunic. His hair, the color of midnight, fell around his face, framing features that were both impossibly handsome and undeniably dangerous. His eyes, the color of moss-covered stones, caught her gaze.

The breath hitched in her throat. It had been almost two months since that fateful day, the day she'd briefly tasted freedom and kindness from the Alpha, a taste of what it was like to be cherished and protected. Two months of trying to bury him, to forget the burning intensity of his gaze, the gentle strength of his hand on her back.

His eyes held hers, a silent conversation passing between them that bypassed all the noise and pretense of the gathering. There was recognition, a potent longing that mirrored her own, and something else… an undercurrent of raw power that sent a shiver down her spine.

Damon noticed her distraction. He followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Kaelen. He visibly stiffened. "Prince Kaelen," he muttered, his voice laced with a strange mixture of respect and something akin to fear. "The future King."

Prince? Elara’s mind reeled. Kaelen, the man who had shown her a moment of kindness in her darkest hour, was the heir to the throne? She still can't believe it.

She'd thought she misheard the introduction earlier, maybe it was all in her head but no…the hushed whispers she'd been overhearing made sense. The deference in the other Alphas' voices, the subtle bows, the carefully chosen words. Even Damon, arrogant and self-assured, seemed to shrink in Kaelen's presence.

Kaelen inclined his head in a brief, acknowledging nod to Damon, but his eyes never left Elara. The intensity of his gaze was a tangible force, a pull she couldn't resist. It was as if he saw past the facade, past the confinement of a dress and the societal expectations, and saw the wounded, desperate wolf within.

Damon, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, steered her towards the refreshment table, his grip on her arm tightening. "Stay here," he hissed, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Elara watched him walk away, his back stiff with tension. He was trying to curry favor with Alpha Rhys of the Silver Moon pack, a powerful and influential figure. She felt a surge of resentment. He cared more about his ambitions than her well-being, even now, carrying his children.

She wandered to an alcove overlooking the gardens, desperate for a breath of fresh air. The scent of roses and honeysuckle drifted up from below, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom.

She felt his presence before she saw him. The air crackled with a raw energy that made her skin prickle. She turned to find Kaelen standing a few feet away, his eyes burning into hers.