I walked through the ballroom with Theo at my side, the weight of a hundred stares pressing against my skin like phantom hands. The air felt different now—charged with speculation, curiosity, and in some corners, unmistakable hostility. Word had spread through the gathering like wildfire: the Lycan King's mate was a werewolf. Not just any werewolf, but one who had rejected her first mate bond. The whispers followed us like trailing smoke, but Theo's steady presence beside me kept me anchored against the rising tide of political implications neither of us had fully considered when he'd declared me his mate before Benjamin.
"Your Majesty," a voice called from our left, smooth as aged whiskey. "Might I have a moment?"
A tall Lycan with silver-streaked hair approached, his midnight blue form
