"My choice is not weakness," he said. "Lara is my strength."
He stepped away before she could argue, the weight of his crown like nothing compared to the certainty in his stride. The crowd parted instinctively as he approached.
Selene's laughter faltered the moment Thornak began to move, not toward the council, not toward her, but his gaze locked elsewhere.
She turned slightly, enough to see where he was headed. Her eyes followed him as he passed lords and diplomats without pause… until he stopped before Lara.
Lara stood with Jasmine and Iris, mid-laugh, the candlelight catching the soft shimmer of her wine-red gown.
All around her, conversation dipped. A ripple of whispers threaded through the ball as Thornak offered Lara his hand.
Gasps rippled through the ballroom like a sudden gust of wind.
Heads turned. Fans paused mid-flutter. Goblets froze halfway to lips. For a heartbeat, the entire court stared, not at the king, but at the woman he had just asked to dance.
Her?
A few whispered her name, if they even knew it.
"Who is she?" hissed one Alpha's daughter, eyes narrowing.
"That is not Selene."
"A noblewoman?" another muttered, baffled.
"No, no, she's the king's guest," someone said, but even that held more question than certainty.
At the edge of the hall, Selene stood motionless. Her face was composed, but her knuckles whitened around her fan. The moment had been hers, was meant to be hers. And he had walked past her without a glance.
Queen Maravelle's lips pressed into a thin line, though she said nothing.
The elder lords and ladies exchanged loaded looks, gauging the meaning, the risk, the scandal of it all. A woman of unknown blood. Standing at the heart of Vargorath's court like a moonlit secret.
And yet…
As Lara placed her hand in Thornak's, the power that hummed between them silenced even the whispers. There was no mistaking it. No denying the way the bond shimmered in the space between them, quiet and undeniable.
A few younger wolves exhaled slowly, suddenly understanding something ancient and true.
Thornak didn't need to say a word.
He had chosen.
Lara's heart thundered. She could feel eyes on her, hundreds of them. Judging. Questioning. Whispering. She didn't belong here, not in this grand hall under the gaze of every noble in Vargorath and beyond. Not in this gown that shimmered like wine and fire. Not at the center of a kingdom's tradition.
And yet…
When her fingers slid into his, the world quieted.
The bond pulsed gently, no longer a flicker in the back of her mind, but a steady drum in her chest. She didn't know what it meant, not fully, but it wrapped around her like a shield. Like a promise.
He led her toward the center of the ballroom.
Lanterns glowed overhead, casting down halos of silver light. Musicians waited, bows poised, breath held.
Thornak turned to her, placing one hand lightly at her waist, the other holding her hand with that same unwavering calm. She looked up and his eyes, searched hers. Not as a king surveying his court, but as a man seeing only her.
"You're trembling," he said softly.
"I'm not used to being stared at by a million eyes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Thornak leaned in just enough that only she could hear. "Then look only at me," he murmured.
Lara drew in a breath, slowly, she lifted her gaze, meeting his. The world beyond Thornak ceased to exist, no whispers, no judgment, no glittering eyes in the crowd. Only the steady, unshakable heat in his eyes.
The music began.
Slow, graceful, haunting. The kind of melody that clung to the bones, that made time feel like an illusion.
They moved in perfect rhythm. He was effortless strength, and she, surprising even herself, was grace. She didn't stumble. Didn't falter. As if her feet remembered something her mind had forgotten.
Around them, the ballroom faded into a soft blur. The stares, the whispers, the tension, they were still there, but distant, like echoes behind glass. All she could see was him, the man she could no longer deny she was falling in love with.
Then, as though a spell had lifted, the rest of the court began to move. Couples joined the dance, their forms gliding in synchrony. Silk and velvet swirled, jeweled hems brushed the floor, and the soft cadence of laughter and conversation returned to the air. The ball had begun.
But even among the dozens who now moved to the music, it was Lara and Thornak the room still watched. The king and the mystery woman in red his choice, his statement.
And they danced like the world had narrowed to only each other.
Selene's eyes followed them like daggers. Each step Thornak took with Lara felt like a personal affront, a deliberate humiliation. Her fingers clenched at the folds of her gown, nails biting into satin. That woman was supposed to be dismissed. But instead, Lara stood at the center of it all, glowing like she belonged. And Thornak had made it clear, she did.
Selene's wolf snarled just beneath her skin, a restless, coiling fury. You were promised this, it growled. You are meant to rule beside him, not some nameless stray.
From behind, her mother stepped up quietly beside Queen Maravelle, her voice low but biting.
"You told us this was handled."
Maravelle's jaw was tight, her eyes cold as they followed the couple moving across the floor.
"It was. Until he decided to make a mockery of it all."
Selene's mother scoffed. "The entire court is watching. That girl is no one. And yet he's parading her like a crowned mate."
Maravelle's gaze didn't waver. "Not for long."
By the time the last bow was taken, Lara had slipped away from the heat of the chandeliers and the crush of eyes.
Now she stood alone by the reflecting pool, arms wrapped around herself, the cool night air brushing over her skin.
She didn't turn when she heard the quiet steps behind her. Somehow, she already knew it was him.
"I was wondering where you disappeared to," Thornak said gently.