Theodor hesitated for a second before answering.
Not because he lacked words. But, for the first time that night, the right words did not come easily.
His hand remained beneath hers. Did not squeeze. Did not withdraw. It simply stayed there, as though any movement might confirm something he was still trying to deny.
—She has gone, — he said at last. —Said she needed air. Perhaps… distance.
The way he spoke of her leaving betrayed more than he wished. It was not just physical. It was something he had been ignoring for far too long.
He lowered his gaze for a moment, his shoulders finally succumbing to the weight he had carried all day.
—You are right, — he continued, his voice lower, stripped of the Alpha's posture. —In everything. And that is what troubles me most.
He raised his eyes again, meeting hers.
—I thought protecting Dandara was loyalty. I thought closing my eyes was kindness. — A short, bitter smile. —In the end, it was only cowardice well-dressed.
The hall pulsed around them. Laughter, music, the tap of dancing feet. Life went on despite the failures of its leaders. Always.
—When you spoke of your father… — he sighed. —I saw it. Not the threat. The choice. You could have ended it today. And you did not.
He turned his hand, weaving his fingers through hers with careful, almost excessive respect.
—And yet it is I who emerged diminished.
Safira shifted inside Elizabeth, restless.
—He is learning. Slowly. Like all proud males, — she murmured. —Still, I keep watch.
Theodor felt the wolf's echo like a shiver down his spine. He did not answer her. Not yet. He knew any wrong word here would earn teeth.
—I do not want to be a blind Alpha, — he said, now firm. —Nor a man who loses his own dignity trying to save someone who refuses correction.
A pause.
—But I will not pretend this is simple. Dandara… — he closed his eyes for a moment. —She has always been there. And realizing that perhaps I made a mistake rather than prevented one is not easy.
He opened his eyes again, facing Elizabeth with something rare. Vulnerability.
—This alliance may be political, — he repeated her words, as though weighing their meaning. —But you are right. We are choices.
He pressed her hand lightly.
—And today I chose poorly.
Safira huffed, less irritated.
—At least he can count to two.
Theodor released a tired, half-laugh.
—Tell your wolf that… — he hesitated. —I will try to deserve less of her wrath.
Elizabeth's half-smile remained, and strangely, it unsettled him more than if she had shouted.
Because he knew.
Her sense forgives.
But does not forget.
Dandara did not go far.
She retreated to one of the inner balconies, where the music came muffled and the night's chill could bite unseen. Leaning against the stone balustrade, she gripped the pink fabric of her dress too tightly, as if she could crush reality until it fit the shape she desired.
She breathed deeply. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
The image of Elizabeth seated beside Theodor returned like a slow blade. There was no victory in that calm smile. There was possession. And that irritated her more than any public humiliation.
—He always returns, — she murmured to herself, like an ancient spell. —He always has.
Since pups.
Since she had cried in secret for him to come.
Since she had erred small so he could correct great.
Since she had learned that well-used fragility was an invisible leash.
Dandara did not see herself as a villain. Never had. In her own mirror, she was only someone who could not bear to be left behind. And Theodor… Theodor had always hated the idea of abandoning her. She nurtured that carefully, year after year, like tending a poisonous plant that blooms only in shadow.
Elizabeth was different.
She did not compete. She did not plead. She did not demand.
That was intolerable.
—She does not love you, — she whispered, rehearsing the phrase. —She loves the throne. The Moon. The name.
She walked a few steps, her heels echoing softly. Her mind moved swiftly now, not in confrontation. Dandara never attacked head-on. She thought in wear, in doubt, in small fractures.
The mistake of the dress had been too great. She admitted it. Excess. Anxiety. She had wanted to be seen. She had wished to provoke. And she provoked the wrong person.
So she would change the strategy.
Guilt worked better than challenge. Silence better than insistence. A measured withdrawal would make Theodor question whether he had been too harsh. Whether he had overstepped. Whether he should have protected her a bit longer.
She knew this path.
—I will disappear, — she decided. —Not now. Slowly.
First, emotional distance. Then, controlled sorrow. Downcast eyes. A half-apology, the kind that makes the other want to mend the rest.
And if that spoke…
Her gaze darkened for a moment.
Then it would speak of fear.
Of loneliness.
Of how Elizabeth made her feel small.
Theodor hated feeling that he had hurt someone who depended on him.
He always had.
Dandara smiled at nothing.
It was not open war. Not yet. It was patience. And she had always been good at waiting while others thought they had won.
In the hall, the music continued.
At the main table, the Moon conversed with the Sun.
And in the shadow of the balcony, a wolf who had never learned to lose contemplated, in silence, the next lie.