Chapter 295 - 29: The Farm Girl at the Royal Table

Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Blood Moon Hall in slanted bands of red and gold, casting a blood-colored streak across the white tablecloth.

Dane sat with both hands flat on the table; if he let them drop to his lap, they would start to tremble. His eyes were dry and irritated at the corners, an irritation born of staring into the void for hours without seeing a thing. A plate sat untouched before him. He had picked up his fork twice, set it down twice.

Ramon hadn’t looked at him once since he’d sat down.

Alpha Ramon simply turned a page of the ledger; the paper made the only sound in the room, save for the clink of Sonia’s spoon, which she wasn’t using to eat, but simply to stir her tea in slow circles.

"Five thousand wolves." Ramon didn’t look up from the page. "And Kell’s Ridge Pass. I’ve gone over the scenario again and again, and nothing still doesn’t justify your actions."

"I didn’t ask to be amongst the contestants in the Ceremony of Choosing."

"No." Ramon closed the ledger between two fingers, keeping his place. "You didn’t ask for anyone’s opinion. That’s the problem, isn’t it?"

Sonia’s spoon went still. "Every pack will know exactly what we gave up and what we got in return. A nameless girl."

"Without a legitimate claim. Nothing that could stand up to five hundred wolves let alone five thousand."

"She has a name." Dane’s jaw tightened. "You’ve said it often enough to know it."

"I know what I see when I say it, Dane. Do you?" Ramon finally looked up. He said nothing about what he read in his son’s face; he simply reopened the ledger to the page he had been consulting. The silence that followed was heavy with a menacing tension. Dane noticed minute details: the draft skimming the floor, the unnatural stillness of the guards stationed at the far doors, the way Sonia’s spoon had frozen in her cup, as if she, too, were listening for something.

Then, footsteps echoed in the hallway, slow and steady; one of the guards near the entrance shifted his weight and glanced at his colleague. Sonia lifted her chin slightly. Ramon’s finger stopped tracing the column of figures.

The latch turned.

Destiny crossed the threshold wearing a high-necked navy blue dress, her hair swept up to expose the nape of her neck. Hannah had brought the dress to the river cottage before dawn; Dane recognized the simple, neat stitching of the hem.

Her gaze landed directly on the only empty chair at the table, and she walked across the room to take her seat, as if the place had already been reserved for her.

Dane’s fork, forgotten on his plate, went still beneath his hand.

Sonia’s cup clattered against the saucer with such force that the tea sloshed over the rim.

Ramon’s jaw tightened once, though his eyes remained fixed on the page before him. "You left the girl at the river cottage." He turned another page with deliberate slowness. "Why is she in my dining room?"

"She isn’t ’the girl’." Dane stood up before he’d even consciously decided to do so. "Her name is Destiny. And I invited her to eat at this table."

Destiny didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled out the chair and sat down, her back straight, meeting Sonia’s gaze without flinching.

"Good morning, Lady Sonia."

"You certainly have some nerve." Sonia’s voice could have frosted the windowpanes. "Sitting in a hall built by six generations of Bloodmoon Alphas, wearing a dress tailored for blood nobler than your own, while my House crumbles around us. Do you have any idea what you’ve cost this pack?"

"I know how much your son received." Destiny’s hands lay flat on the table, fingers spread, perfectly steady. "And I know the cost never reached Vance."

Ramon’s hand froze on the ledger.

"Enough." He closed it completely this time. His eyes narrowed to a dangerous slit looking into her eyes.

Destiny’s hands began to tremble against the wood. The blood drained from her face and her breathing grew ragged, yet she kept her chin high and held Ramon’s gaze.

"That’s enough." Dane slammed his palms onto the table with such force that the cutlery rattled. He stepped between Ramon and Destiny, feeling his own blood rise to meet his father’s, which cut the weight of the pressure in half.

The tension eased. Destiny gasped for air and gripped the edge of the table; color returned to her cheeks.

Ramon stood up. He looked at Destiny and shook his head disappointed. "She has no lineage. No name. No army behind her." He kept his eyes fixed on her face. "You gave up five thousand wolves and the Kell’s Ridge pass for a girl who couldn’t lead a pack of dogs, Dane." He walked toward the door. "Get her out of my sight before I have the guards throw her in the river."

The door slammed shut behind him, rattling the windowpanes. Sonia studied Destiny for a long moment, picked up her cup, and left through the side archway without a word.

Destiny remained motionless. Her chest rose rapidly, her breathing shallow, the knuckles of her hands white from gripping the edge of the table. She didn’t cry. She said nothing. She stood up, pushed back her chair with precise, careful movements, and stepped out onto the terrace.

"Destiny, wait." Dane hurried after her.

He found her by the gallery railing overlooking the courtyard gardens; her back was turned to him, her shoulders rising and falling as she struggled to steady her breathing.

He stopped within arm’s reach. "I’m sorry. He’s cornered. He’s taking his frustration out on you."

She turned around. Her eyes were dry but burning with anger. "Don’t apologize for him. I didn’t expect a warm welcome here, Dane. But I won’t stand by and let myself be spoken to like some creature dragged out of the woods."

"You aren’t that." He closed the distance, close enough now to smell the rain and river water still clinging to her hair. "Look at me."

She obeyed.

He tilted her chin up with his bruised knuckles, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. "Ramon thinks strength lies in five thousand wolves and a title engraved on a door. He didn’t see what you accomplished by that cairn." His voice dropped lower. "He simply doesn’t see you."

Her breath caught. She didn’t pull away. Her hand rose to clasp his wrist; she felt his pulse pounding strongly beneath her fingers.

"And you—what do you see?" Her gaze dropped to Dane’s mouth before rising back to his eyes.

"The only thing in this city worth fighting for."

He leaned his head toward hers; the gallery, the guards, and the icy weight of the morning all vanished into nothingness. She lifted her face to his, her hand tightening around Dane’s wrist.

"Dane!"

Henrik came running around the bend in the corridor, his boots clattering against the stone, his face ashen. He stopped dead when he saw them, though he made no move to retreat.

Dane took a step back. His hand brushed Destiny’s waist before dropping to his side. "What is it?"

Henrik bent over, hands on his knees, and managed to get the words out between gasps for air. "A rider from Silvercrest." He straightened up, swallowing hard. "It would appear that you’ve been selected."

"Selected for what?"

"Vance demands a council meeting. In three days. It appears Aurora wants you as her husband still."