29. Speech
1102 Words
= Mikael =
I stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed over my chest, the weight of the moment settling heavier than any council decree ever had.
Amara stood alone at the center of it all.
The pack had gathered at my command—warriors, hunters, even a few omegas lingering at the edges, curiosity outweighing fear. The Veyrath Pack formed a loose half circle around her, just as tradition dictated. No throne. No platform. No protection.
If she was going to stand beside me as Luna, she had to stand on her own first.
She took a breath.
I saw it—the slight rise of her shoulders, the way her fingers curled and then loosened at her sides. Fear lived in her right now, quiet but present. Anyone who said otherwise had never stood in front of an entire pack and declared something that wasn’t yet theirs to claim.
“My name is Amara.”
Her voice carried farther than I expected—clear, steady, not loud, but strong enough to cut through the murmurs that rippled through the crowd.
“I stand before you today not as your Luna,” she continued, pausing briefly, “but as the woman who intends to become her.”
That earned her a few looks. Some surprised. Some skeptical. Some openly unimpressed.
I felt a flicker of approval spark in my chest.
She wasn’t pretending acceptance had already been given.
She wasn’t demanding it.
She was acknowledging the distance between where she stood and where she wanted to be.
That alone took courage.
“I know many of you are wondering why I’m here,” Amara said. “Why Alpha Mikael chose me. Why someone you don’t yet trust stands in front of you, claiming a future that hasn’t been earned.”
At that, a few pack members shifted. Someone near the back scoffed softly, not even bothering to hide it.
She noticed.
Her gaze flicked in that direction for half a second—just long enough to register the dismissal—before she forced herself to look forward again.
I clenched my jaw.
The pack wasn’t listening.
Some were polite enough to face her. Others leaned toward one another, whispering. A few deltas inspected their weapons as if this were a delay rather than a moment that mattered. Even some of the elders watched with guarded expressions, arms folded, eyes cool and appraising.
This was normal.
Unfortunate—but normal.
Veyrath did not hand out loyalty easily, especially not to an outsider. And Amara was still that in their eyes. An enemy. A risk. A variable they hadn’t decided whether to tolerate or eliminate.
Still, seeing it play out like this stirred something sharp in my chest.
She straightened her spine.
“I won’t lie to you,” she said. “I haven’t lived among you long enough to understand every tradition. I haven’t fought beside you. I haven’t bled for this pack.”
That caught their attention—if only a little.
Admitting weakness wasn’t common. Not here. Not in front of wolves who respected strength above all else.
“But I’m willing to,” she continued. “Not because I was chosen. Not because of titles or bonds. But because I believe Veyrath deserves a Luna who stands with it—not above it.”
A breeze moved through the clearing, rustling leaves, carrying her words outward.
And still—still—the pack remained unmoved.
A hunter yawned openly.
Two warriors exchanged looks that said this won’t last.
Someone muttered, “We’ve heard prettier speeches before.”
The words weren’t loud, but they landed like a slap.
Amara’s hands trembled.
I noticed because I was watching her too closely—because I had memorized the tells she didn’t realize she had yet.
She swallowed.
“For now,” she said, voice wavering just enough for me to hear, “I ask only for your patience. I will earn your trust. Not today. Not with words. But with time.”
Silence followed.
Not the respectful kind.
The empty kind.
The kind that swallowed effort and gave nothing back.
My instincts snarled.
I wanted to step forward. To remind them who stood beside her. To command their attention, their respect, their obedience. One word from me and the clearing would fall silent, every spine straightening, every gaze snapping forward.
But I didn’t move.
This wasn’t my moment.
Amara finished her speech with a small nod, as if sealing a promise to herself rather than to them. She took a step back, unsure whether she was meant to wait or leave.
No one applauded.
No one bowed their head.
The pack slowly began to disperse, conversations resuming as if nothing important had happened. As if she hadn’t just stood there, heart bare, offering herself to a pack that hadn’t yet decided whether she was worth the effort.
I felt something cold and dangerous coil in my chest.
She noticed it then.
The rejection.
The indifference.
Her shoulders sagged before she could stop herself. Her chin dipped. For just a second, she looked small—not weak, but wounded in that quiet way people are when they realize bravery doesn’t always get rewarded.
That was when I stepped forward.
The sound of my boots against the ground cut through the noise, sharp and unmistakable. Conversations faltered. Wolves turned. Spines straightened.
I came to stand beside her.
Not in front.
Beside.
“I asked you here because this matters,” I said, my voice carrying easily across the clearing. “Not because the declaration is finished—but because it has begun.”
Amara looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face.
I kept my gaze forward, addressing the pack.
“She doesn’t have your loyalty,” I continued. “And she doesn’t expect it.”
A few warriors bristled, unsure where this was going.
“But understand this,” I said, letting my aura bleed just enough into the air to remind them who they answered to. “Standing where she stood today—alone, unguarded, and honest—was not weakness.”
The air thickened.
“That,” I said, “was courage.”
Silence fell properly this time.
Heavy. Attentive.
I turned my head slightly and met Amara’s eyes.
“You did well,” I said quietly, for her alone.
Her breath shuddered.
She nodded once, blinking rapidly, and squared her shoulders again.
The pack didn’t cheer. They didn’t suddenly accept her.
But they watched her now.
And in Veyrath, that was the first step toward being seen.
- Writer
