Chapter 96

Chapter 96: Chapter 96

In the royal guest quarters, Queen Seraphina sat by the window, her silver-streaked hair loose around her shoulders, her formal gown exchanged for a simple silk robe. The door opened, and Soren stepped inside.

"You wanted to see me, Mother?"

"Sit." She gestured to the chair across from her. "We haven’t had a chance to speak privately since we arrived. I want to know how you’re really doing. Not the Sword Sovereign. Not the crown prince. Just... my son."

Soren sat. The Queen studied him for a long moment, her dark eyes—so like his own—missing nothing.

"You’ve changed," she said finally. "You’re different from the boy who left the palace two years ago."

"I’ve grown."

"It’s more than that. You’re... softer. Less guarded. There’s a warmth in you that wasn’t there before." She tilted her head. "Is there someone? Someone who’s made you happy?"

Soren’s expression flickered. "What makes you ask that?"

"A mother’s intuition." She reached out and took his hand. "You don’t have to tell me who it is. Not yet. But I want you to know—whoever she is, whatever complications there might be—I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

"Even if my happiness conflicts with the Crown’s expectations?"

"Even then." The Queen’s voice was firm. "Your father spent his whole life sacrificing his happiness for duty. I don’t want that for you. I want you to have what we have—a partner who loves you, who challenges you, who makes you a better person."

Soren’s throat was tight. "What if that partner isn’t who the court expects?"

"Then the court will learn to adjust." She squeezed his hand. "I’m on your side, Soren. Whatever happens. Whatever choices you make. I’m on your side."

"Thank you, Mother."

The door opened again, and King Aldric entered, still in his formal attire, his expression weary. Freya slipped in behind him, her nightdress peeking out from under her robe.

"A family meeting," the King said dryly. "It’s been a long time since we had one of those."

"We’ve been busy," Soren said.

"Too busy." The King sat down heavily in the chair beside his wife. "Roderic’s return has stirred up old memories. Old questions. I assume he’s given you no answers yet?"

"None. He said he’ll explain after the showcase."

"And you trust him?"

Soren hesitated. "I want to. He was my best friend. My brother. But five years is a long time."

"It is." The King’s expression was thoughtful. "Roderic was always a mystery, even as a boy. Loyal, yes. Brave, certainly. But there was always something he held back. Something he kept hidden."

"He’ll tell us when he’s ready," Soren said. "Until then, we focus on the showcase."

"Spoken like a true king." The King almost smiled. "You’ve learned well."

Freya climbed onto the arm of her brother’s chair and leaned against his shoulder. "I’m glad Roderic is back. Even if he’s mysterious and won’t explain anything. He was always nice to me when I was little."

"He was nice to everyone," Soren said quietly. "That was the problem. He cared too much. Felt too deeply. Maybe that’s why he left."

"Or maybe that’s why he came back," the Queen suggested.

The family sat together in the quiet room, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future pressing down on them. But they were together. And for now, that was enough.

The morning of the showcase dawned cool and crisp, the summer heat tempered by a gentle breeze that carried the scent of pine and wildflowers through the academy grounds. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue, as if the Moon Goddess herself had blessed the day. Banners in crimson and gold snapped from every tower. The grand arena had been transformed overnight—wooden stands erected around the main training grounds, silk awnings stretched overhead to shade the dignitaries, the royal box positioned at the center with its crimson canopy and gilded railings.

The entire academy buzzed with nervous energy. Servants rushed through the corridors with last-minute preparations. Instructors barked final instructions to their students. Competitors stretched and warmed up in the courtyards, their faces masks of determination and barely concealed anxiety. The Silvermoon girls moved in pristine formation, their white and silver uniforms gleaming in the morning light. The Shadowmoon students stood in their dark formal attire, their expressions ranging from fierce confidence to quiet terror.

This was the day they had been training for. The day the realm would judge them. The day everything would change.

In the royal guest quarters, King Aldric Thornridge stood before his daughter, his large hands resting on her slender shoulders, his sharp eyes—so like Soren’s—fixed on her face with an intensity that made Freya want to squirm.

"Let me review the rules," he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"Father, we’ve been over this—"

"Rule one. You will stay beside your mother at all times. Not near her. Not within sight of her. Beside her. If you need to use the privy, a guard will escort you. If you want to speak to your brother, you will wait until a appropriate moment. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Father."

"Rule two. You will not wander off. You will not explore the academy. You will not sneak away to find your brother or his friends. I am aware that you slipped out of your quarters multiple times last night—"

Freya’s eyes widened. "You knew?"

"I am the King. I know everything that happens under my roof—and under this academy’s roof." His expression softened, just slightly. "I allowed it because I trust you. But today is different. Today, the realm is watching. Every move you make will be observed and judged. You are a princess of the Seven Packs, and you will conduct yourself accordingly."

"I understand, Father."

"Rule three. You will not shout your brother’s name across the arena. You will not wave at him during the combat exhibitions. You will not embarrass the Crown by acting like a child when you are, in fact, a young woman of thirteen who should know better."

Freya pouted. "I wasn’t going to shout."

"You were absolutely going to shout. I saw your face when he walked into the welcome feast."

"That was different. I hadn’t seen him in two years."

"And now you’ve seen him. You’ve hugged him. You’ve told him about your wolf. Today, you will be dignified and composed." The King leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But after the showcase—when the politics are done and the dignitaries have gone—you may hug your brother as much as you want."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He turned to the Queen, who was watching the exchange with quiet amusement. Seraphina rose from her chair and crossed to her husband, straightening the collar of his formal coat. "You’re going to be late for the opening ceremonies."

"The opening ceremonies can wait. They can’t start without me." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her—a gentle, lingering gesture that spoke of decades of love. "I’ll see you in the royal box."

"We’ll be there. And Aldric?" She smiled. "Try to enjoy yourself. It’s a celebration, not a war council."

"I’ll try. No promises."

He kissed her one more time and strode out of the room, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. The Queen turned to Freya. "Well, then. Shall we go wish your brother good luck?"

Before Freya could answer, the door opened and Soren stepped inside.

He was already dressed for the showcase—black and silver formal attire, his dark hair swept back, his Lycan tattoo barely visible above the collar of his coat. He looked every inch the crown prince he had been hiding for years. But when Freya launched herself at him with a delighted squeal, he caught her with the same easy affection he always had.

"Freya! What did Father just say about acting ladylike?"

"Father isn’t here," she mumbled into his chest.

"I am," the Queen said dryly. "Freya, step back. You’re wrinkling your brother’s formal coat."

Freya reluctantly released Soren and stepped back, smoothing her own dress with as much dignity as she could muster. Soren smiled and ruffled her hair, messing up the careful braids her handmaiden had spent an hour arranging.

"Soren!"

"You can play as much as you want after the showcase," he said, echoing their father’s words. "But for now, listen to Mother. Stay close to her. Don’t wander off. And no shouting my name across the arena."

"Why does everyone think I’m going to shout?"

"Because you’ve been shouting my name across palaces since you could talk." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small wrapped package. "Here. I brought you something."

Freya’s eyes lit up. She tore open the wrapping with the enthusiasm of someone who had never learned patience, revealing a box of rich dark chocolates—the kind that were imported from the southern territories and cost more than most people earned in a month.

"You remembered!"

"Of course I remembered. You’ve been obsessed with these since you were six."

She hugged him again, chocolates clutched to her chest. "Thank you, Soren. Be careful out there. Conquer all of them. Show them what a Thornridge can do."

"I will." He kissed her cheek. "I’ll help you control your wolf after the showcase. We’ll train together, just like we used to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He turned to his mother, who was watching them with eyes that glistened just slightly. "Mother."

"Soren." She cupped his face in her hands, studying him with the intensity only a mother could manage. "Your father wanted to wish you luck himself, but he was called to the opening ceremonies. He said to tell you he’s proud of you. We both are."

"Thank you."

"Be safe today. Not just in the competitions—in everything. The seer’s words still trouble me. There are forces at work that we don’t understand."

"I know. But I’m not alone. I have good people around me." He kissed her cheek. "I’ll see you in the arena."

"Good luck, my son."

He smiled—a real smile, warm and unguarded—and walked out of the room.