Chapter 27
946words
One Year Later.
I was processing reports from various packs.
After defeating the northern rebels and revealing my Ancestor's Bloodline, my father had handed leadership of the pack to me.
I had unified the packs and industries of the central territories, but things were more complicated than I'd imagined.
Border disputes, resource allocation, new laws—every decision required my personal approval.
But I felt a sense of purpose I had never known before.
"Your Majesty," a guard's voice came from outside the door. "Lord Elias is here to see you."
"Let him in."
The door opened and Elias walked in.
A year hadn't changed him much. He still carried himself with that same steady strength, but there was a shadow of weariness in his eyes I couldn't quite place.
"Still working?" He came to my side, frowning at the mountain of documents on my desk. "It's late, Sandra."
"The reconstruction report from the Southern Alliance just arrived," I pointed to a file. "They need more medical supplies, and..."
"I'll handle it." He gently took the file from my hand, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to rest."
We had this conversation a thousand times.
For the past year, Elias had been my most trusted partner, my most reliable pillar of support.
He handled military affairs; I managed political decisions.
We moved together in a seamless rhythm of command, a true ruling pair in all but name.
Everyone assumed we would eventually become mates.
After all, who else could stand beside the Queen?
He was the shield at my side, the sword in my hand, but he never once crossed the line from guardian to mate. He remained my loyal knight, content to stand in his Queen's shadow.
"Sandra," he said suddenly, his voice holding a complex emotion I had never heard before.
"Hm?" I looked up.
He didn't speak immediately, as if making some difficult decision.
"The reconstruction in the South is facing some challenges," he finally said. "It's not just about resources, it's about trust. The people there are still wary of us. I think... maybe I should go there myself."
My pen stopped mid-air. "You're leaving?"
"Not just a visit. A long-term post. I'd be gone a year. Maybe two. Maybe longer. I'll come back when you have everything under your complete control."
I suddenly understood.
He was waiting for me. Waiting for me to fully emerge from the shadows of my past.
He was choosing to leave to give me space, to give me freedom.
"You don't have to do this for me..."
"Your Majesty!" My chief aide knocked frantically on the door, cutting me off.
He held a scroll sealed with silver thread and wax. "An urgent dispatch from the North. It was delivered directly to the throne room. The messenger wore the silver direwolf of the North King's personal guard!"
My heart sank.
The North King, Alaric.
The brother Killian had tried so desperately to overthrow.
A being even more powerful and inscrutable than his brother.
Elias immediately stepped forward and took the letter, his expression turning grave.
He broke the seal, and we read the contents together.
The handwriting was elegant and forceful, the words polite but carrying an undeniable pressure:
To the esteemed Queen Sandra of the Silver Moon,
First, please accept my belated congratulations on quelling the southern rebellion and cleansing the stain left by my wayward brother, Killian. The North is deeply grateful.
I have heard that Your Majesty carries the sacred Ancestor's Bloodline, a supreme gift from the Moon Goddess to our kind. I, myself, hold the greatest respect and curiosity for this ancient and powerful force.
Therefore, I, in my name as King of the North, cordially invite you to visit my palace at your convenience. Let us discuss the mysteries of the bloodline together, and the future peace and order of the werewolf world.
I eagerly await your arrival.
Your faithful servant,
Alaric Frostfang, King of the North
The letter was a velvet glove hiding an iron fist.
"This isn't an invitation," Elias's voice was a low growl. "It's a summons. He's not curious about your power. He wants to claim it."
"I know." My palms were sweating.
I had dealt with one brother, only to have a more powerful one watching me from the shadows.
He wasn't using force. He was using politics and royal authority to pressure me.
If I refused, it would be a declaration of hostility against the North in front of the entire werewolf world.
Elias looked at me, the weariness in his eyes gone, replaced by a burning fire of defiance and determination.
He crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fireplace.
"It seems my plans to go south have been cancelled," he said, his voice low and firm.
I looked at him, at this man who had only ever thought of me.
And I suddenly realized, I didn't need a knight who would sacrifice himself to give me peace of mind.
Facing an enemy like Alaric, I needed a King who could fight by my side.
I stood up, walked around my desk, and stood before him.
Then, for the first time, I reached out and took his warm, calloused hand in mine.
"Elias," I looked him directly in the eye, my voice calm and steady. "Our people do not need a lone Queen."
His body jolted, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"What I need is a King. One who will stand with me against the coming storm."
I squeezed his hand and asked, one word at a time:
"Elias Blackridge, will you... be my King, and rule our people with me?"
