Three weeks had passed since the Festival of the Moon, three weeks since Aveloria's name became the center of every whisper, every gaze, every silent prayer. The ritual that aligned her spirit with the Moon's light had not brought her peace; instead, it had amplified everything: the pull between her four mates, the court's scrutiny, and the quiet storm brewing in her heart.
The King's summons for a royal dinner had gone through every province, every faction, and every bloodline tied to her fate. The High Priestess's decree left no room for avoidance: the mates must dine under one roof, to honor the Goddess's will.
That evening, the palace buzzed with heavy preparation. Servants rushed through the marble halls, carrying trays of wine, roasted meat, meals, and fruits. The air was heavy with spice and tension. It wasn't just a dinner; it was the night the king would host all four of her mates under one roof.
