Lucian and Rosaline stepped into the grand ceremonial hall, a space that radiated sheer magnificence.
The celebration was not just for Lucian's birthday, but also to mark his official ascension as the next Alpha of the Mooncrest Pack.
Every inch of the hall gleamed with opulence, drapes of silver and royal blue cascaded from the high ceilings and the scent of rare wildflowers hung delicately in the air.
Mooncrest was not just any pack—it was the largest, most powerful, and undeniably the wealthiest in the entire kingdom.
And so, naturally, the preparations for this pivotal event were nothing short of extraordinary. Nothing less than perfection would do for the future Alpha.
Rosaline's eyes scanned the room, catching the admiring gazes of those who turned to watch their entrance. Pride surged through her chest, fierce and validating.
She subtly tightened her grip around Lucian's arm, ensuring everyone saw...this was hers, he was hers, and the spotlight belonged to them.
This moment… it was everything she had schemed, sacrificed, and strived for. Every calculated move, every whispered manipulation, it was all for this. For the title. For the glory. For the crown of Luna of the most powerful pack in the kingdom. She wanted the world beneath her feet, and tonight, she stood just above it.
Her gaze shifted as a uniformed guard, one assigned specifically to oversee the entrance of royal delegates, who had informed them about their arrival, motioned toward a cluster of high-backed seats draped in velvet.
And then she saw him.
In the heart of the seated group, commanding attention with mere stillness, sat Prime Minister Varric Drevyn.
The way he held himself radiated dominance, the kind of quiet power that could strangle a man with a glance. There was nothing soft about him, his presence was ironclad, and the aura of authority around him was nearly suffocating.
A lycan by blood, Varric's formidable physique had only intensified with age. The sharp tension of his muscles beneath his ceremonial robe made Rosaline's breath catch in her throat.
Even restrained within his formal attire, he was a man sculpted by war, by survival, by sheer strength.
He was in his late fifties now, but time had only carved power deeper into his features. It was said women still fainted in his presence—an exaggeration, perhaps, but tonight, Rosaline could almost believe it.
Her eyes stayed fixed on him as she and Lucian drew closer to the royal section. Despite her fascination, she reminded herself that Varric, for all his allure, did not rival Lucian—not in youth, not in ambition, not in position.
Still, there was something about him.
It was well-known that Varric had lost his wolf years ago—a sacrifice made, they said, when he gave it up to save the life of Queen Elvarya, King Zevryn's mother, who had once been his closest friend.
That act alone had earned him the unwavering loyalty of the former king, who named him Prime Minister not long after. Since then, Varric had served the crown with unmatched discipline and power.
Even without his wolf, Varric was a force to be reckoned with. It was said he could disarm and defeat first-grade wolves using nothing but his bare hands and an iron will that had never once faltered.
As Lucian and Rosaline finally reached the elevated platform where Varric and the other dignitaries sat, the air seemed to still.
Lucian's voice cut through the quiet with confidence and command.
"Greetings, Prime Minister," he said, his tone cool and unwavering.
While Varric, along with the others, rose to his feet, he extended his hand with poised elegance. "Greetings, Alpha Lucian Ashborne," he said, his deep voice smooth but commanding, as though every syllable was carved from stone.
Rosaline held her breath, caught between admiration and anxiety as she watched the two powerful men stand face to face. The handshake was brief, but the energy that pulsed between them was anything but.
It was like watching two storms meet in silence, charged, foreboding, and barely contained. The air around them felt heavier, saturated with authority and dominance. She could feel it in her bones.
"Ah, I'm surprised," Lucian replied, his voice low and resonant, "that the Prime Minister himself came to congratulate me. I didn't think the kingdom's most feared and revered man had time for someone like me."
As they released the handshake, Rosaline noticed how Lucian's posture remained unshaken, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his otherwise guarded expression.
Varric's lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a knowing smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Look at yourself through my eyes, Alpha Lucian, and you'll understand how far from mundane you truly are. My presence here wasn't a formality—it was necessity. You're not just someone."
Lucian tilted his head slightly, intrigued by the older man's cryptic words. "I'm not Alpha yet, Prime Minister Drevyn. You might want to hold off for a few more hours before you call me that."
A short chuckle rumbled in Varric's chest. "It is merely a matter of hours before Lucian Ashborne becomes Alpha Lucian Ashborne. I've waited longer. These hours mean little to me."
Rosaline's brows pinched together slightly as she stood silently beside Lucian, her eyes darting between the two men. Something about Varric's words unsettled her. Waited for what? For whom?
There was weight in his tone, layers of meaning she couldn't unravel. And the way Lucian remained composed, as if he already knew what Varric meant… it only deepened her unease.
Before she could dwell on it longer, Varric turned and gestured to the four men standing beside him, each dressed in dignified attire, carrying themselves like shadows to his light.
"Allow me to introduce my companions," Varric said, signaling to the four stern-faced men behind him. "They're officers from my department, handpicked for this event. Each of them holds rank and duty under my command."
Lucian nodded politely to each of them, his face neutral and unreadable, though his eyes missed nothing.
Only after the formal introductions did Varric's gaze finally shift to Rosaline, standing a step behind Lucian.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not in disdain, but in focused curiosity like a scholar studying a puzzle. Then, with a tone that suggested both inquiry and judgment, he asked, "And who is this?"
Rosaline stiffened, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor. His question wasn't simple; it had edges.
Lucian turned toward her then, as if only now realizing she hadn't been introduced, and gently drew her closer by the waist.
"This is Rosaline Velmora," Lucian said firmly. "My mate and the future Luna of Mooncrest."
Varric's brows arched ever so slightly, the expression unreadable yet sharp. "You already know who your mate is?"
At that, Rosaline inhaled sharply, her pulse stumbling into panic. The way he asked the question, it wasn't surprise. It was suspicion.