Chapter 9 - THE ROYAL ARCHIVIST'S LEGACY
Six months later, the great hall of Ashynmere was filled not with the tense whispers of plotting nobles, but with the joyous music of harps, laughter, and the clinking of celebratory goblets.
It was the Festival of the Moon Blessing—a grand kingdom-wide celebration marking the official coronation of Queen Sally alongside King Rhett.
Standing in the newly expanded royal library, Sally—now wearing the glittering, star-jeweled crown of Ashynmere atop her dark hair—inspected the newest addition to the high archives. Resting on a velvet-lined display pedestal in the center of the room was a newly bound, gold-embossed volume titled: The True History of Ashynmere: Chronicles of the Crown and the Pack.
And resting neatly beneath glass right beside it was a single, frayed piece of coarse gray wool—honored not as a symbol of abandonment, but as the foundational relic of a new era.
"You know," Fen remarked lazily from the back of her consciousness, lounging in a mental sunbeam while eating imaginary honey cakes, "my human is looking at you across the room with that ridiculous lovesick expression again."
Sally glanced up through the arched doorway toward the grand banquet hall. Across the sea of dancing nobles and lords, King Rhett stood talking with a southern ambassador, but his eyes weren't on the map or the diplomat. His gaze was locked entirely on her, a soft, devoted smile touching his lips.
As if sensing her gaze, Rhett excused himself from the ambassador and began walking through the crowd toward her, his stride confident, regal, and entirely devoted.
May you like
"Let him look," Sally whispered softly to her inner wolf, feeling the warm, golden thrum of the mating bond wrap around her soul like a protective embrace.
Rue let out a contented, rumbling purr of absolute victory.
