Chapter 9 - The Wrath of the Crown
Two weeks later, the throne room of Artoria was packed to absolute capacity. Every high-ranking noble, pack elder, and council member stood in tense silence beneath the towering vaulted ceilings.
At the center of the dais stood Alpha King Elian, looking more powerful, vibrant, and terrifying than he had ever looked in his life. The permanent winter aura that had surrounded him for decades was completely gone, replaced by an overwhelming, suffocating wave of alpha dominance that made every wolf in the room drop their gaze to the floor.
And seated beside him upon the royal throne, wearing a gown of woven gold and emerald silk with her head held high and her face completely unhidden, was Queen Claire.
The dark brand upon her forehead was still there, but it no longer looked like a mark of shame. It looked like a badge of survival, a symbol of the fire that had conquered death itself.
At the front of the assembly stood Lord Alister Crane and Celia, their faces white as bleached bone, trembling violently as royal guards forced them to their knees before the dais.
“Lord Alister Crane,” Elian’s voice rang through the hall, smooth as polished steel and carrying the weight of absolute judgment. “You stand accused of high treason against the crown, conspiracy, child abuse, and the illegal mutilation of her royal majesty, the Queen.”
“Your Majesty!” Alister babbled, pressing his forehead against the cold stone floor, sweat pouring down his face. “Have mercy! It was a misunderstanding! We acted according to temple law! The girl is a witch—”
“Watch your tongue,” Elian interrupted softly, stepping down from the dais. The heavy thud of his boots echoed off the stone like a death knell. He stopped directly in front of Alister, looking down at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated disgust. “The woman you cast aside, abused, and sold on a slave block is the very queen who saved my life and secured the future of Artoria. You did not protect your family; you traded your humanity for power.”
Elian turned his gaze toward Celia, who was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching her expensive skirts.
“For the crimes committed against my wife,” Elian announced, turning back to face the entire court, “I hereby strip House Crane of all titles, lands, and wealth. Every estate is seized by the crown. Furthermore, Alister Crane is sentenced to hard labor in the southern salt mines for the remainder of his natural life, and Celia Crane is banished beyond the northern border, to live the remainder of her days among the outcasts she so deeply despised.”
“No! Please!” Celia screamed as the royal guards grabbed them by the arms, dragging them kicking and screaming out of the Great Hall as the heavy iron doors slammed shut behind them.
Silence settled over the court once more. No one dared to breathe. No one dared to whisper.
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Elian turned back toward the dais, walking up the steps and taking his seat beside Claire. He reached out, interlacing his fingers with hers in front of the entire kingdom, lifting her hand and pressing a long, tender kiss to her knuckles.
Claire looked into his warm, living gray eyes, a soft, radiant smile touching her lips. The curse was broken. The darkness was gone. And their true reign had finally begun.
