The High Court convened at dusk.
That alone was an omen.
The Blood Court chamber rose in tiers of obsidian and crimson marble, banners hanging heavy with sigils older than kingdoms. Elder wolves, Alpha lords, emissaries from allied packs—every seat filled, every gaze sharp.
And at the center—
The twin thrones.
Ryan arrived first.
He wore black and steel, crown clasped tight at his temples, his presence coiled and lethal. His wolf paced beneath his skin, restless, furious, barely restrained.
The bond remained silent.
Then the doors opened.
A hush fell so complete it swallowed breath.
Isabella stepped into the chamber.
Not as consort.
Not as companion.
But as Blood Queen.
She wore crimson armor chased with black filigree, the sigil of her lineage etched over her heart—a crown dripping into a blade. Her cloak was dark, heavy, lined with runes of binding and sovereignty. Her hair fell loose down her back, a circlet of bloodstone resting against her brow.
Her magic moved before her—slow, controlled, unmistakable.
The court felt her.
Felt the ancient hunger in her veins.Felt the thing that had knelt to no Alpha, no Council.
Ryan's breath caught.
She did not look at him.
She walked past him.
And took her throne.
The Blood Throne answered her immediately—stone warming beneath her palms, sigils igniting in acknowledgment.
A ripple of unease passed through the Elders.
Good.
The High Elder rose.
"Let this court be called to order," he intoned. "We convene to finalize the matrimonial alliance between Alpha King Ryan Steel and—"
"No."
The word cracked through the chamber like thunder.
Every head snapped toward Isabella.
She leaned back slightly, one arm draped over the throne, gaze cool and merciless.
"You do not finalize anything," she said calmly. "Not without me."
The Elder stiffened. "This is a matter of Alpha succession and inter-pack stability—"
"And I am the Blood Queen," Isabella replied, voice smooth as a blade sliding free. "Which makes this my matter."
Murmurs broke out.
Ryan finally turned toward her, shock and something like awe warring across his face.
She still didn't look at him.
The doors opened again.
This time, deliberately.
Lady Leona of Crimson Peak entered the court like she had been born to it.
She wore silver and red, her smile precise, eyes sharp as cut glass. Her presence was polished, controlled—every inch the perfect political bride.
She bowed to the throne.
To Ryan.
Then—slowly—to Isabella.
"My Queen," Leona said sweetly. "It is an honor."
Isabella's lips curved.
Not in warmth.
In warning.
"Is it?" she asked. "Because it feels more like trespass."
A collective inhale swept the court.
Leona's smile didn't falter. "The Council has sanctioned this union. I am merely obeying decree."
"Ah," Isabella said softly. "Then you will understand when I do the same."
She stood.
The Blood Court shifted.
Power rolled outward—controlled, measured, terrifying. The sigils along the walls flared crimson. The bond between her and Ryan shuddered violently, still suppressed, still restrained… but straining.
Isabella stepped down from her throne.
Every step echoed like judgment.
"You knew," Isabella said to Leona. "About me."
Leona lifted her chin. "Of course."
"And you stayed silent."
"It was not my place to interfere in fate."
Isabella stopped an arm's length away.
"Do not mistake my restraint for weakness," she said quietly. "Or my silence for surrender."
Leona met her gaze—and for the first time, something flickered there.
Uncertainty.
The High Elder cleared his throat. "Blood Queen, you must understand—this alliance predates your arrival. It is law."
Isabella turned slowly.
Her eyes burned.
"Law?" she echoed. "Then let us speak of law."
She lifted her hand.
The floor beneath the Elders' dais ignited with ancient runes—blood-binding glyphs, forbidden and absolute.
Gasps erupted.
Ryan surged to his feet. "Isabella—"
She raised a hand without looking at him.
He stopped.
Instantly.
The court froze.
"I am bound to the Alpha King," Isabella said, voice ringing through stone and bone. "By bond. By blood. By magic older than your Council."
She turned to Ryan then.
Finally.
The look in her eyes stole his breath.
Pain.Love.Resolve.
"You hid the truth from me," she continued. "And for that, you shattered something sacred."
The bond ached.
"But do not mistake that," she said, gaze sharpening, "for permission to erase me."
She faced the court again.
"If the Council wishes to force this marriage," Isabella declared, "then understand this—"
Her magic surged.
The chamber shook.
"You will do so over my blood."
Silence fell.
Terrified.
Absolute.
Leona swallowed. "You would risk civil war?"
Isabella smiled.
Cold.
"Darling," she said. "I am war."
Ryan's chest burned.
Because in that moment, he understood—
She wasn't walking away.
She was arming herself.
And if he did not choose her publicly, decisively, now—
He would lose her forever.
Not to another man.
But to the crown she was becoming.