Chapter 90

Chapter 90: Chapter 90

The royal procession appeared on the horizon like a river of crimson and gold.

The academy gates had been thrown open, and the entire student body stood in formation in the grand courtyard—Shadowmoon on one side in their dark formal attire, Silvermoon on the other in their pristine white and silver. The instructors lined the marble steps leading to the main hall, their robes pressed and their expressions solemn. The servants had worked through the night to ensure every banner hung straight, every step gleamed, every torch burned bright.

And at the center of it all, Proctor Vesper Kane stood with Lady Isolde at his side, waiting.

The first horses appeared at the top of the eastern road, their riders bearing the royal standard a wolf with a crown, its jaws open in a silent howl. Behind them came the guards, rank upon rank of armored soldiers in crimson and gold, their weapons gleaming in the midday sun. And behind them, the royal carriages.

The crowd gasped as the King rode into view.

He was mounted on a massive black stallion, his crimson cloak billowing behind him, his dark hair streaked with silver. He was older than Nyra had expected deep lines etched around his eyes, threads of gray in his beard but his presence was undeniable. This was the Alpha who had united the Seven Packs. This was the most powerful wolf in the realm. This was Soren’s father.

Beside him, the Queen’s carriage rolled to a stop. The door opened, and Queen Seraphina stepped out elegant, composed, her silver-streaked dark hair gleaming in the sun. Her gown was deep blue, the color of twilight, and her eyes swept across the assembled students with quiet assessment.

And then came Freya.

She emerged from the carriage like a whirlwind barely contained, her dark hair braided in a crown around her head, her eyes the same dark eyes as her brother’s scanning the crowd with barely concealed excitement. She was thirteen, gangly and bright-eyed, and she had been waiting for this moment for two years.

"Remember," the Queen murmured, placing a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder. "Dignity. Composure. You are a princess of the realm."

"I know, Mother."

"No waving at your brother. No running across the courtyard. No shouting his name."

"I know."

"You will have time to speak with him later. In private. Where no one can see."

Freya’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. "I understand."

"Good." The Queen released her shoulder. "Then let’s go meet your brother."

Proctor Kane stepped forward and bowed—a deep, formal gesture that sent a ripple of movement through the assembled crowd as every student and instructor followed suit. "Your Majesty. Your Grace. Princess Freya. Welcome to Shadowmoon Academy. We are deeply honored by your presence."

King Aldric dismounted with the easy grace of a man who had spent his life on horseback. His black stallion snorted and pawed the ground as a groom rushed forward to take the reins. The King adjusted his crimson cloak and turned his sharp eyes toward the assembled academy.

"Proctor Kane. It has been too long."

Proctor Kane bowed deeply, his iron-gray hair catching the sunlight. "Indeed, Your Majesty. We have prepared a welcome feast in your honor. The students have been training for months to demonstrate their skills. We hope you will find the showcase worthy of the Crown’s attention."

"I’m sure I will." The King’s gaze swept across the sea of students, his expression unreadable. Then he asked the question that changed everything. "Where is my son?"

The words echoed across the silent courtyard like a thunderclap.

My son.

The students exchanged bewildered glances. The instructors shifted uneasily. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through wheat—the King’s son? Here? At the academy? Who?—and for a long, suspended moment, no one moved.

And then Soren stepped forward.

He moved with the same fluid grace he brought to everything, his black and silver formal attire suddenly seeming less like a Sword Sovereign’s uniform and more like the garb of royalty. His dark hair was swept back from his face. His expression was carefully neutral, but his dark eyes met his father’s with steady acknowledgment.

"Father," he said, bowing.

The courtyard erupted.

"Soren?" someone gasped. "Soren Thornridge is the King’s son?"

"The Sword Sovereign is the crown prince?"

"I trained with him—I sparred with him—I called him a bastard to his face—"

"The King’s son has been here this whole time?"

Valeria stood frozen in the second row of instructors, her face pale as death, her hands trembling at her sides. Her mind was a hurricane of shock and disbelief and something that felt almost like triumph twisted with horror.

Soren is the crown prince. The crown prince. The heir to the entire realm. And I—we—

Lila’s voice echoed in her skull, equally stunned. We’ve been sleeping with the crown prince. For years. Full moons. His suite. We’ve had the heir to the Seven Packs in our bed and we didn’t even know.

He never told me, Valeria thought, her shock curdling into something darker. He never trusted me enough to tell me.

Does anyone else know?

Ragnar must know. Corvin, probably. The Proctor, certainly. Her jaw tightened. Thorne. Thorne definitely knows.

And we didn’t. We were never important enough.

Valeria’s hands curled into fists at her sides. The humiliation burned like acid in her throat. She had spent years warming the bed of the most powerful man in the realm—the future king—and she hadn’t even known it. She had been a convenience. A distraction. A secret.

Never again, she vowed silently. Never again.

Finn’s mouth was hanging open so wide he looked like a fish gasping for air. He grabbed Marek’s arm with enough force to bruise. "Soren," he hissed. "Soren Thornridge. The Sword Sovereign. The man who’s been training Thorne. The man who’s been—" He stopped, his eyes going wide. "The man who’s been in love with Thorne. Is the crown prince."

Marek, who rarely showed emotion, looked genuinely stunned. "The crown prince."

"The crown prince of the entire Seven Packs. The heir to the throne. The most powerful Alpha in the realm after his father." Finn’s voice was rising toward hysteria. "And he’s been sleeping in a dormitory. Training first-years. Eating cafeteria food. Like a normal person."

"Thorne knew," Jasper said quietly. His sharp eyes were fixed on Nyra’s face, watching her reaction. "Look at him. He’s not surprised. He knew."

Finn turned to Nyra, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt and desperate curiosity. "Thorne? Did you know? Did you know he was the crown prince?"

Nyra didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed on Soren, standing tall before his father, every inch the prince he had been hiding since the day she met him. He looked magnificent. He looked terrifying. He looked like a stranger.

And yet he was still her mate. Still the man who had held her through the night. Still the man who had kissed her tears away and promised he would never let her go.

He’s the crown prince, Luna whispered. The crown prince of the entire realm. And we’re his mate.

I know. ℯℯ𝑙.

This changes everything.

I know.

Does it change how you feel about him?

Nyra watched Soren bow to his father, watched the Queen step forward and embrace him, watched Freya vibrate with barely contained excitement. She watched the man she loved stand in the full light of his birthright for the first time since she’d known him.

No, she thought. It doesn’t change anything.

The murmurs continued to ripple through the crowd. Students who had trained alongside Soren for years stared at him with new eyes. Instructors who had critiqued his form and assigned him duties and treated him like any other student suddenly looked pale and uncertain. The Sword Sovereign had been terrifying enough. The crown prince was something else entirely.

Selene stood near the front of the Silvermoon delegation, her amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She had known, of course. She had always known. And now the entire academy knew too. Soren could no longer hide behind his false identity and his cold demeanor. He was the crown prince, and she was his betrothed, and everyone could see exactly where they stood.

Corvin watched from the edge of the crowd, his whiskey-dark eyes unreadable. He had known since childhood. He had grown up with the knowledge that his friend was the heir to the throne. But seeing it revealed—seeing the shock on everyone’s faces, seeing the way the students recoiled and whispered and stared made the weight of Soren’s secret feel suddenly, terrifyingly real.

Ragnar stood near the back of the Shadowmoon formation, his scarred face split in a grim smile. He had been waiting for this moment for years. The secret he had guarded since childhood was finally out. His best friend—his brother in all but blood—was finally standing in the light.

The Queen stepped forward, her composure cracking just slightly as she looked at her son. "Soren. It’s been too long."

"Mother." Soren’s voice softened. "It’s good to see you."