Three days passed before Elara was ready to face Marlena.
Three days of rebuilding. Three days of judgments. Three days of learning what it meant to be queen while also learning what it meant to be hers—Kael's mate, fully and openly at last.
The compound transformed in those days. Walls repaired. Relationships mended. Wolves who'd spent months afraid to speak now found their voices, sharing stories of Marlena's cruelty, of loved ones lost, of hope nearly extinguished.
Each story was a stone in Elara's heart.
Each story also strengthened her resolve.
Marlena would face justice. Not revenge—justice. There was a difference, and Elara intended to honor it.
---
The trial was set for dawn on the fourth day.
Elara rose before the sun, dressing in the simple clothes she'd worn since arriving at Blackthorn—a choice that had surprised many, but felt right. She wasn't here to play queen in silks and finery. She was here to judge, and judgment required clarity.
Kael found her at the window, watching the sky lighten.
"Nervous?"
"Terrified." She didn't pretend otherwise. "What if I'm too harsh? Too lenient? What if—"
"Stop." He turned her to face him. "You've spent three days listening to every wolf who had a story to tell. You know what she did. You know what she cost them. Trust yourself to know what justice looks like."
Through the bond, his confidence flowed into her. Steady. Warm. Certain.
"You're good at this," she murmured. "The reassuring thing."
"I've had practice." He kissed her forehead. "Living with you."
She almost smiled. Almost.
Then the sun cleared the horizon, and it was time.
---
The great hall had been transformed for the trial.
Wolves filled every bench, every corner, every space where they could stand. Loyalists who'd fought beside her. Former Marlena supporters who'd defected at the last moment. Families of those who'd been hurt. Families of those who'd done the hurting.
All watching. All waiting.
At the front, on the raised dais where Marlena had once pretended to rule, Elara took her place. Not on a throne—there was no throne here, not yet. But on a simple chair, positioned so everyone could see her.
Kael stood at her right hand. Cassian at her left. Lyra guarded the door. Dace sat among the witnesses, quill in hand—he'd appointed himself chronicler of everything that happened, determined that the truth be recorded for future generations.
And in the center of the hall, guarded by four warriors, stood Marlena.
---
She looked... smaller.
That was Elara's first thought. Without her furs, without her dais, without the crowd of supporters who'd once hung on her every word, Marlena was just an old woman. Grey-haired. Weary-eyed. Human in her fragility.
But her eyes—those flint-grey eyes—still held their fire.
"Bring her forward." Elara's voice carried across the silence.
The guards escorted Marlena to stand before the dais.
"Marlena of Blackthorn." Elara spoke clearly, formally. "You stand accused of crimes against this pack, against the Silver Crown, and against the laws that govern our people. How do you plead?"
A long moment of silence.
Then Marlena laughed.
It was the same ugly laugh Elara remembered from the great hall confrontation—sharp, bitter, utterly without humor.
"You want me to plead? To play your little game of justice?" The elder's eyes swept the crowd. "These wolves followed me because I was strong. Because I wasn't afraid to make hard choices. Because I—"
"You killed my sister."
The voice came from the crowd. A young wolf—barely more than a pup—stepped forward, trembling but determined.
Marlena's eyes flickered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lira." The boy's voice cracked. "My sister Lira. She was twelve. She spoke out against you, and you—you had her taken. She never came back."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
More voices rose.
"My father disappeared after questioning your orders."
"My mate was sent on a patrol that should never have happened—sent to die because you wanted his land."
"My grandmother—"
"My brother—"
"My children—"
The accusations piled up, a avalanche of grief and rage that had been building for years. Elara let them speak, let them be heard, let their pain fill the hall.
Marlena's face hardened with each word. But beneath the hardness, something else flickered.
Fear.
---
When the last voice fell silent, Elara rose.
"You hear them." Her voice carried across the hall. "These are your people, Marlena. The ones you claimed to lead. And every single one has a story of how you hurt them."
"I did what was necessary." Marlena's voice was sharp. "A pack can't be led by kindness. Weakness. I made hard choices so others didn't have to."
"You made cruel choices." Elara stepped down from the dais, approaching slowly. "There's a difference. Hard choices are when you have to sacrifice something good for something necessary. Cruel choices are when you sacrifice others for your own benefit."
Marlena's jaw tightened. "You think you're better than me? You, a human girl who stumbled into power through luck and a bond she doesn't deserve?"
"I think—" Elara stopped before her. "I think I've spent my whole life being told I was nothing. I think I've survived things that would have broken most people. I think I've loved a man who rejected me, fought an enemy who terrified me, and stood in front of wolves who wanted me dead—and I'm still here." Her voice dropped. "That's not luck, Marlena. That's choice. Every single day, I chose to keep going. To keep hoping. To keep believing that things could be better."
She met the elder's eyes.
"You chose differently. You chose fear over hope. Cruelty over kindness. Power over people. And now—" She gestured at the hall. "Now you face the consequences of those choices."
---
Marlena stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, something shifted in those flint-grey eyes.
Not remorse—not exactly. But... recognition. The first crack in a fortress of denial that had stood for decades.
"I was young once." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I believed in things. Hoped for things. And then—" She stopped. Swallowed. "Then the massacre happened. The Silver line fell. And the world became a place where only the strong survived."
Elara waited.
"I told myself I was protecting the pack. That the cruelty was necessary. That the ends justified the means." Marlena's eyes met hers. "But somewhere along the way, I stopped protecting and started enjoying. The power. The fear in their eyes. The—" She broke off. "I became what I hated."
Silence.
Elara could feel the hall holding its breath. Could feel the weight of Marlena's words, the first honest thing the elder had said in years.
"You did terrible things." Elara's voice was quiet. "You hurt people who trusted you. You killed people who loved you. You—" She stopped, gathered herself. "You can't undo any of that. No apology, no explanation, no amount of regret will bring back the dead or heal the wounded."
Marlena nodded slowly. "I know."
"So here's my judgment." Elara's voice firmed. "You're exiled from Blackthorn. From every territory under the Silver Crown. You'll leave today, with nothing but the clothes you wear, and you'll never return."
Marlena's eyes widened. "Exile? Not—" She couldn't say the word. Death.
"You expected me to kill you." Elara shook her head. "I'm not you, Marlena. I don't solve problems by eliminating them. I solve them by choosing—and I choose to let you live with what you've done. To wander the world knowing you'll never again have a home, a pack, a place where you belong."
"That's—" Marlena's voice cracked. "That's worse than death."
"Maybe." Elara met her eyes. "But it's also mercy. The same mercy you never showed anyone else. Take it or leave it, but know this—if you ever return, if you ever threaten anyone under my protection again, there will be no second chances. Just the justice you've earned."
Marlena stared at her.
Then, slowly, she bowed her head.
"I'll go."
---
The hall erupted.
Some wolves cheered. Others wept. Others simply stared, processing the strange mix of justice and mercy they'd just witnessed.
Elara didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched as Marlena was led away—smaller now, diminished, carrying the weight of a lifetime of choices that had led to this moment.
Kael's hand found hers.
You did it, he thought. You were fair. You were just. You were queen.
I feel sick.
That's normal. It means you have a heart.
She leaned into him, just for a moment.
Then the crowd surged forward, and there was work to do.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Wolves approached with questions, with concerns, with gratitude. Elara answered each one as best she could, learning as she went, leaning on Kael and Cassian and the others who'd become her council.
By nightfall, she was exhausted.
But as she stood on the balcony of what was now their quarters, looking out over the compound that was slowly becoming home, she felt something she hadn't felt in weeks.
Peace.
Kael joined her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"So." His voice was quiet. "First trial as queen. How do you feel?"
"Like I've been through a war." She leaned back against him. "But also... right. Like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
"That's because it is." He kissed her shoulder. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be. With exactly who you're supposed to be with."
She turned in his arms. Looked up at his silver eyes—the same eyes that had once looked through her like she was nothing. Now they held everything.
"I love you," she whispered. "I don't say it enough. But I love you."
"I know." He touched her face. "I feel it. Every moment. Through the bond. Through everything." He smiled—that rare, beautiful smile she'd learned to treasure. "And I love you too. More than I thought it was possible to love anything."
She rose on her toes. Kissed him.
And for a moment, there was no past, no future, no weight of responsibility.
Just them. Just the bond. Just love.
---
End of Chapter 25🐺