Chapter 8 - The Great Northern Summit
By June, the northern territories had transformed into a breathtaking expanse of lush green valleys, blooming wildflowers, and clear, rushing rivers. Invitations to the grand unification summit and royal wedding had been sent out to every major pack leader across the continent.
Delegations arrived in a steady, colorful stream through Bornkeep’s newly reinforced gates. Alpha lords from the western mountain ranges, tribal chieftains from the eastern forests, and seasoned commanders from Kalin’s Ironclad empire gathered in the grand courtyard.
Inside the royal chambers, the room was a flurry of activity. Junior healers and noble ladies bustled about, adjusting the heavy silk folds of Rosaline’s breathtaking wedding gown—a magnificent creation of deep emerald silk embroidered with silver pine branches and honey-gold thread.
Beta Thomas pushed open the chamber door, looking slightly flustered in his formal ceremonial tunic.
"My lady—er, future Queen," Thomas corrected himself with a grinning salute. "The northern delegates have all taken their seats in the grand amphitheater, and the Alpha King is currently pacing a trench into the marble floor of the antechamber. He asked if you were backing out."
Rosaline laughed, a bright, melodic sound that filled the room. "Tell Kalin that a York healer never backs out of a cure, and she certainly doesn't back out of a wedding."
Moments later, the great double doors of the outdoor amphitheater swung wide open.
A hush fell over the thousands of gathered pack members, warriors, and foreign dignitaries.
Rosaline walked down the grand stone aisle beneath a canopy of blooming white roses. At the altar stood Alpha King Kalin. He wore his full ceremonial regalia—a deep black doublet adorned with silver wolf crests and heavy gold trim. As his eyes locked onto Rosaline walking toward him, his breath visibly caught.
The fierce, terrifying Winter Wolf looked completely, utterly undone by the sight of his mate.
She stepped up to the dais, her emerald eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.
An ancient northern elder stepped forward, holding the sacred silver ceremonial chalice. He recited the traditional vows of blood, hearth, and pack, binding their souls before the moon and the gathered witnesses.
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When the elder pronounced them mates and rulers of the northern alliance, Kalin didn't wait for permission. He pulled Rosaline fiercely into his arms, crushing her against his chest, and claimed her lips in a deep, passionate kiss that drew thunderous applause, echoing cheers, and a chorus of proud wolf howls from every corner of the amphitheater.
They weren't just survivors anymore. They were sovereigns.
