A Mother's Heart Always Knows
They say a mother's instincts are unmatched. That a woman's intuition never lies—and foolish is the one who ignores that sacred warning.
The hall carried on in splendor and grace, its beauty displaying the royal power of that pack, even as the celebration itself had seemed doomed from the very beginning.
— Theodor still has much to learn. He must be stricter with that girl, or she will be his ruin… and his relationship with Elizabeth.
The goblet did not shatter by accident.
— He is young, my husband. Young wolves make mistakes—even those meant to lead by example. Theodor will learn, whether through love or pain. He will learn that being an Alpha often means surrendering comfort so others may have it.
The Queen felt it before anything else.
Her gaze did not linger on her husband—that statue of experience and measured wisdom.
Instead, it followed the hum that vibrated in her ears.
It was not sound.
It was pattern.
Absence.
Dandara had been gone for too long.
— This smells like rotting flowers.
The King beside her did not respond. His eyes scanned wolves and she-wolves alike, all attempting to mask the scent of intrigue, to smother the venom rising from the absence of their future Luna.
Leónia had not returned.
The princess's blade… absent.
Wrong.
Everything was wrong.
She did not show it.
She never did.
She merely tilted her head slightly, as if listening more closely to the music… when in truth she was counting silences.
And then she saw him.
The servant.
Too bowed.
What does that mean?
Too submissive.
This reeks of a setup.
Speaking with the elder.
It stinks of a mangy dog.
That wretched old man with the viscous smile who had always smelled like something rotten hidden beneath ancient gold.
He smiled.
And that was when the pieces fell into place.
Not like a puzzle.
Like a trap snapping shut.
— I need air, — she said lightly. Naturally. — This hall is far too warm.
No one questioned her.
Because no one was foolish enough to question a Queen when she chose to leave.
That damned old man.
She walked.
How dare he attempt anything within my domain?
Her posture was impeccable.
Curse your existence, you filthy swine.
Her breathing steady.
Death in her eyes.
In the corridor, her face changed.
Cold. Like the snow of the Forest of Three Suns.
Sharp. Like the grove of ancestral blades.
Real.
— You, — she called softly.
Four shadows detached from the walls.
Knights.
Not the Alpha's.
Hers.
— With me.
No explanations.
No questions.
The path to the chambers was too fast.
Too silent.
The scent came before the door.
Sweet.
Heavy.
Omega.
But not the kind that comforts.
What does that wretch think she's doing?
The kind that clings.
As repulsive as her whore of a mother.
That invades.
That tries to dominate without the structure to sustain its own weight.
The Queen stopped.
Pure disgust crossed her gaze.
— Vulgar… — she murmured.
A minimal gesture.
One of the knights understood.
The Luna's Shadows. That was what they were called—the trio of assassins who served the Queen of Shadows. No one had ever seen them… only their results.
Three wolves larger than the sovereign herself. Bone structures that inspired fear, reverence, dread.
The servant guarding the corridor never had time to turn.
The largest moved first.
Grace that should not exist for something his size.
The blade danced.
Clean.
Precise.
The sound of flesh opening was soft.
Almost harmonious.
The body fell without a sound.
Problem solved.
The Queen did not knock.
She never would.
The door opened.
And the scene…
was worse than she expected.
Theodor.
On the floor.
Breathing heavy.
Body far too exposed.
His Alpha's cloak discarded, the ceremonial blazer thrown aside beside the white vest embroidered with golden runes—the weight of Solari's ancient tongue.
Too vulnerable.
His lightly sun-kissed skin visible, his chest rising and falling irregularly.
An Alpha reduced to nothing.
The pride of the crown…
reduced to weakness.
And Dandara…
Straddling him.
Moving obscenely against the heir of that pack.
Movements devoid of innocence.
Devoid of restraint.
Devoid of anything resembling the bond she claimed.
Intentional.
You deceitful little whore. Grinding against my son while he's unconscious—because you know you'd never have him awake.
Pathetic.
The Queen stepped forward.
Slowly.
Each step a sentence.
The air shifted.
Heavy.
Dominant.
Dandara froze for a second.
Only one.
But it was enough.
She turned.
And instead of retreating…
she smiled.
Foolish audacity.
— Your Majesty… — she said, too sweetly. — You're late. My body has already touched him. My wolf has already claimed him.
Silence.
The Queen did not answer.
Not yet.
She only looked.
Assessing.
Stripping the illusion down to what it truly was.
— He has already made his choice, — Dandara continued, lifting her chin. — He just needed… a push. I gave him that.
The lie was almost beautiful.
Almost.
If it weren't so vile.
So repulsive.
— After today… — she stepped forward, daring too much — Elizabeth will never set foot in Solari again.
The Queen did not blink.
— And then… — Dandara smiled — only I remain.
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
— I was chosen, — she insisted. — By the council. By the ancients. I am—
— A mistake. Filth. A vulgar predator who abused the one who sheltered her.
The words came low.
But they cut like steel.
Dandara froze.
This time for real.
The Queen advanced.
Effortless.
— You see yourself as chosen, — she said, meeting her gaze, — when you are nothing but a tool.
A step.
Dandara retreated.
Instinct.
— You believe you were elevated… when you were used.
Another step.
Now Dandara felt it.
The weight.
The difference.
The abyss.
— The council does not choose Lunas, — the Queen's voice turned venomous. — It tests weakness. Fragility. Possibility. It tests desperate, small-minded opportunists.
Dandara's smile faltered.
Small.
But visible.
— And you… — the Queen tilted her head — failed every single one.
Silence.
The kind that shatters illusions.
— He never chose you, — she finished, glancing briefly at her fallen son. — He simply never had the courage to put you in your place.
That hit.
Deep.
Ugly.
Dandara's breath quickened.
Still trying.
Still clinging.
— That doesn't matter, — she forced out. — Elizabeth is dead. And without her—
The Queen smiled.
And somehow…
that was worse than any scream.
— Then you truly understood nothing. Elizabeth is not Lycan merely by blood—she is Lycan by will. By strength. By the legacy of queens who came before her.
A gesture.
Simple.
A knight moved.
Fast.
Precise.
His grip locked around Dandara before she could react.
Another restrained her from behind.
Immovable.
Breaking the illusion.
— N-no… — she gasped. — You can't—
— I can.
Cold.
Absolute.
The Queen stepped closer.
Close enough for Dandara to feel it.
Authority.
Bloodline.
Power.
Judgment.
— You are not Luna, — she whispered. — You are a warning. A stain to be purged.
Dandara's eyes trembled.
Now the truth began to sink in.
— And when Elizabeth returns… — the Queen continued calmly — you will wish you had died before crossing her path.
Silence.
Final.
— Clean this, — she ordered.
A pause.
— Keep her alive.
Now she looked.
Cold.
— I want her to understand every second of her mistake.
The knights nodded.
And the room…
finally became what it was meant to be.
A place of judgment.
Not conquest.
Because Dandara was never a queen.
Just another piece…
that believed she could sit on a throne without understanding its weight.
Outside…
the night had not yet finished collecting its price.
Theodor was lifted and placed onto the bed, cleaned with efficient, emotionless movements.
The Queen returned to the hall.
But her heart…
was breaking in silence.
Not from lack of love.
Not from lack of protection.
But perhaps from excess.
From giving everything…
to someone who should never have been protected at all.