Chapter 12: The Celebration Party

"Get out of the fucking way."

"Make me, imbecile."

Becky snarled at June Callaghan, Rosie’s best friend from Stormveil Pack of the Aquarius Celestial Line. She stepped into her space, using the fact that she was taller than June to her advantage.

"You’re not even supposed to be here," Becky’s voice was like dragon fire. "I don’t recall anyone inviting you for my cousin’s party, or let me guess, Rosie wanted her lap dog around?"

June scoffed, tucking a strand of her wine hair behind an ear. The motion revealed the crescent scar on her chin. "You’re one to talk about being a dog, literally. Are you still pining after Xavier?"

"Oh you bitc—"

"That’s enough!"

A male voice cried out. Xavier stepped between them, his eyes flicking between the two women in hopes of stopping them from murdering each other.

It was the day after Hazel and Conan’s wedding, the one Xavier had been dreading with every fiber of his being.

The celebration party.

It was quite a big deal, as Conan was not only an Alpha but the king of all Lycans in the world. News travelled fast, and the remaining packs, asides from Tideclaw for obvious reasons, were going to grace Wexley with their presence in respect to their King.

A royal party meant endless wine. Meant hookups in shadowed corners. Meant drama served on silver platters.

And most importantly, meant keeping two particular enemies from disemboweling each other before the first toast.

Xavier exhaled through his nose. "June. It’s so nice to see you... not." He let the word hang. "We weren’t expecting you."

June’s blue eyes mirrored Xavier’s, and they glittered. "That’s the thing about me, Xavier." She stepped into his space, ensuring her breath ghosted across his collar. "I’m unpredictable like that."

She patted his chest twice, like he was a child she was humoring.

"Anyways," she turned, her hair swinging. "Enjoy the party!"

Becky shut her eyes tight the moment June was out of sight, feeling embarrassment crawl up and lodge inside the back of her throat.

Even without looking, she could tell Xavier was staring at her.

"Rebecca, I think—"

"Nothing! You think nothing." She blurted out, pressing her lips into a thin line. How did June even know she still had a crush on Xavier? That skank Rosie...

Becky looked everywhere but at him, at the servers setting up champagne flutes, at the massive flower arrangements dominating the centerpieces.

Anything but his eyes.

"I’m going to get Hazel," she said finally, nodding awkwardly. "I need to—there are things. Arrangements. She’ll need help with—"

"Yes, yes," Xavier waved a hand, already turning away. "Go ahead. I’ll finish up here."

She didn’t need to be told twice.

Becky fled.

Xavier watched her go, then let out a low breath. He pushed his thoughts of June’s words away, his gaze drifting to the grand clock on the far wall.

9:31 AM.

The party didn’t start until 11.

June Callaghan had shown up nearly two hours early, and it sent alarm bells ringing in his skull.

Xavier scanned the ballroom. Servants bustled. Florists adjusted petals. A sound system was being tested with a low hum.

Where did she go?

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, inhaling some air. He could still smell her signature oud perfume lingering around, and he clenched his fists.

June Callaghan was up to something.

And he was going to find out what.

~

Conan was nowhere to be found.

Hazel had woken up, mouth open and drool crusts stuck to her chin, expecting to see Conan next to her, but he wasn’t.

"Conan?" She called out, slowly getting off the bed. No response.

Hazel called out again. Still nothing.

She stood there in the red robe from last night, barefoot on the floor, feeling a strange hollowness settle in her chest. Her eyes darted to the crumpled sheets, the indentation where Conan’s body had been, and for a moment she wondered if she had dreamed the entire thing.

The wedding. The elders. His lips on her neck. Their kisses. The way he had held her.

Was it all a dream?

No.

He had been real. He had been there.

But now he was gone.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Three women entered the room in a neat line, their heads bowed low, their hands clasped in front of them. All three wore identical gray dresses, with white aprons tied around their waists. Servants.

Hazel instinctively took a step back, old habits clawing their way up her throat. In Tideclaw, servants meant pain. Servants meant her stepmother’s spies, ready to report her slightest misstep.

But these women sank into perfect curtsies.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," the one in the middle spoke, her voice like soft honey. "We are here to prepare you for the celebration party."

Hazel blinked. "Party?"

The servant lifted her head slightly, a small smile on her face. "Yes, Your Majesty. The celebration of your union with the King. It begins at eleven."

"Eleven?" Hazel glanced at the window, noticing how bright the sun had become. "What time is it now?"

"Nearly ten, Your Majesty. We must hurry."

Hazel felt her stomach drop. She had slept in. How had she slept in? Her entire life in Tideclaw, she had been dragged out of bed before the sun even thought about rising. And now she had slept past nine like some spoiled noble.

Get a grip, Hazel.

"Right," she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Party. Of course."

She turned back to the bed, her fingers brushing against the empty sheets where Conan had laid. The servants noticed, exchanging quick glances with each other, but said nothing.

"When did he leave?" Hazel asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "The King. Was he here when you came?"

The servant on the left spoke this time, her voice a little shakier. "We do not know for sure, Your Majesty. But the guards said he left before dawn."

Before dawn.

Hazel’s heart clenched. He had left in the middle of the night, after holding her so gently, after promising she wouldn’t be sent back to Tideclaw, and he had just..... disappeared?

Don’t overthink it. He’s the King. He has duties. Responsibilities.

But the nagging voice in her head wouldn’t quiet. He could have woken you. He could have said something.

The head servant cleared her throat softly. "Your bath is ready, Your Majesty. In another room arranged just for you. The water is warm and scented with jasmine, as the King instructed."

Hazel’s head snapped up. "He instructed?"

The servant’s smile widened just a fraction. "Yes, Your Majesty. He left specific instructions for your care with the guards this morning. Nothing less than the best for his bride."

Warmth bloomed in Hazel’s chest, pushing back the cold worry that had been creeping in.

"Oh," she breathed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I see."

The servants led her out of the room, but not before she cast one last glance upon the bed.

I hope he’s alright.

The servants shut the door after her, one leading the way, and two others walking behind her.

The moment they were gone, a shadow moved, and a tall figure emerged from the darkness.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom the new queen and the king had spent the night.

"Let’s see if they actually consummated the marriage."