Chapter 7 - The Trial of the Gilded Wolves
The Moonfang banquet hall looked entirely different than it had three hours prior.
Gone was the decadent warmth of the three hundred burning candles, the roasted feasts, and the laughing nobles draped in silk and jewels. The hall was now illuminated only by the pale, ethereal glow of the moonlight bleeding through the frosted stained-glass windows.
Seventy-two nobles, elders, and high-ranking pack officials sat huddled together at the long mahogany table where they had recently laughed at Celine's expense. Now, none of them dared to speak. Surrounding them in a tight, menacing semicircle stood twelve towering shadow beasts, their spectral breath pluming in the freezing air of the hall, their crimson eyes locked unblinkingly on the terrified aristocrats.
When the heavy double doors creaked open, the entire assembly flinched as one.
Celine walked down the center aisle. She was barefoot, wearing her simple white shift beneath a heavy fur-lined cloak she had pulled from the armory. Upon her head rested the simple silver circlet. Her short, jagged silver hair caught the moonlight, giving her the appearance of an ancient northern deity stepping out of myth.
Behind her walked Elder Ren, and behind him, Captain Vane and four guards carrying Kale between them like a sack of grain. They dumped the former Alpha King onto the floor at the foot of the high table. Kale hit the stone with a dull thud, groaning weakly, his bare, scarred chest exposed to the freezing draft of the hall.
A collective gasp rippled through the seated nobles.
"King Kale!" stammered Lord Morley, a corpulent southern trade lord whose family had bought their seats on the council a decade ago. Morley scrambled up from his chair, pointing a trembling finger at Celine. "What is the meaning of this outrage? You ungrateful—"
Celine raised her hand slightly.
A bolt of silent pressure slammed downward from the ceiling, forcing Lord Morley back into his seat with such velocity that the heavy oak chair cracked beneath his weight. He gasped for air, clutching his chest as the invisible aura pinned him to the wood.
"Four months ago," Celine began, her voice carrying clearly to every corner of the vast, echoing hall, "this council voted to strip the Shadow Moon bloodline of its traditional seat on the advisory board. Three weeks ago, you approved the confiscation of my mother's quarters to house a mistress."
She walked slowly toward the high table, her pale eyes sweeping over the pale, sweat-slicked faces of the politicians.
"You believed the traditions of this kingdom were decorative relics. You believed that because I remained silent, the foundations of Moonfang were yours to carve up, sell, and desecrate." She stopped right in front of Lord Morley, looking down at him with an expression of absolute, chilling indifference. "Tonight, your Alpha King raised iron shears to the sacred seal of this land. And the land answered."
"We didn't know!" cried Lady Valesca, clutching her pearl necklace so tightly the string snapped, sending pearls scattering across the table like teardrops. "We only followed Kale's lead! We are the administration of Moonfang! Without us, the pack will collapse into anarchy!"
"Anarchy," Celine repeated softly, a faint, humorless smile touching her lips. "No, Lady Valesca. Anarchy is what you've been running while calling it civilization. What comes next is order."
She turned and mounted the dais, walking up the carpeted steps until she stood directly before the grand velvet throne that Mira had so proudly occupied just hours before.
Celine didn't sit down. Instead, she reached out, grabbed the heavy velvet upholstery of the throne, and with a sudden, effortless burst of supernatural strength, ripped the chair backward, tumbling it down the dais steps where it crashed into a heap of splintered wood and torn fabric.
A breathless hush fell over the hall.
"The throne of Moonfang is dissolved," Celine announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls like thunder. "From this night forward, there are no kings, no mistresses, and no bought-and-paid-for councils."
She turned to face the terrified assembly, her chest birthmark pulsing with a blinding, beautiful white light that illuminated the entire hall.
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"There is only the pack. And the land that sustains us. Anyone who wishes to live under the shadow of the northern peaks will work the land, protect the border, and respect the blood that anchors it—or you may walk out those doors right now into the teeth of the forest."
For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, the elite nobles, veteran captains, and terrified lords stood up from their seats and dropped slowly to their knees upon the cold stone floor.
