Chapter 638

[ 1,107 words ]

[Third Person].

The following morning, the Council of Elders entered the Grand Hall in measured silence and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty.”

Draven did not immediately ask them to rise. He remained seated on the throne, one arm resting on the intricately carved armrest, his gaze heavy and unreadable. Meredith sat at his right, composed, regal, her silver hair falling neatly over her shoulders. Not a flicker of unease crossed her face.

The silence stretched, and the Elders slowly straightened on their own, shifting under the weight of it.

Draven’s voice finally cut through the hall. “I have received your petitions. I have read your concerns.” Then, he continued with an even tone, “About my Queen. About her blood. About what you call… instability.”

An elder cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Your Majesty, our intentions are not rebellious. The people are unsettled. Stormveil has always been ruled by pure Werewolves. The revelation of Her Majesty’s fae blood has caused fear.”

Another added quickly, “It is not about disrespect. It is about tradition. The safety of our kingdom must come first.”

Draven’s gaze hardened. “Safety?” he asked, rising slowly from the throne. The sound of his boots against the marble echoed.

“Who defended you when the palace gates fell?” he asked quietly. “Who stood between you and death?”

No one answered.

“Which of you,” he continued, voice lowering, “drew blood that day?”

The Elders remained silent.

“You question her blood,” Draven said, “yet none of you questioned it while hiding behind her.”

The words struck clean and precise. Before the silence could grow too suffocating, Randall stepped forward. His voice was firm, carrying the authority of age.

“And I would also like to know who gave you the right to attempt removing the Queen, the Moon Goddess herself, placed over Stormveil?”

The Elders shifted uncomfortably with the glaring truth before their very eyes. Randall noticed this, and did not stop.

“You stood in that coronation hall. You witnessed the divine sign. Yet now you sway like reeds in the wind because of rumours whispered in marketplaces.” His eyes swept across them. “Fickle-minded men should not speak of tradition.”

A flush of shame colored a few faces. A few moments later, one of the older Elders gathered his courage.

“The people are afraid. They believe Her Majesty may be… too powerful. Some say she is stronger than the King. That such imbalance could threaten the throne.”

Meredith’s eyes flickered, but she remained still. Though Draven’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Imbalance?” he repeated. Then, he turned toward them fully. “The Moon Goddess blessed our reign publicly. If you question my Queen’s right to rule, then you question divine will.”

That landed perfectly, and no one dared to refute it.

At last, Meredith rose. “If my blood saved you,” she asked calmly, “why does it now frighten you?”

No one could meet her eyes. They all felt guilty. Fortunately, their conscience wasn’t dead yet.

Another Elder spoke more cautiously. “Your Majesty… what are our people? How do you intend to calm them? Fear spreads quickly.”

Draven answered immediately. “It will be taken care of.” His tone made it clear the matter was closed. Then he added, deliberately, “If after two weeks any of you remain dissatisfied with my decision, you may submit another petition.”

The Elders stiffened. They grasped the implication. Another petition would not be a debate; it would be defiance. And defiance would not end well.

Draven let that settle before shifting the atmosphere entirely. “We will now speak of something more productive,” he said. “Stormveil was attacked. Yet many fought bravely.”

Then, his gaze swept the room. “Those who contributed greatly in defending our people will be rewarded.”

The shift caught them off guard, but they nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I want a full list,” Draven continued. “Names of warriors, commanders, civilians who stood their ground. Submit it to the palace by tomorrow morning.”

“It shall be done.”

Draven returned to his throne and sat. “You are dismissed.”

The Elders bowed deeper this time. “Your Majesty. Your Majesty.”

They left in controlled silence, but the tension followed them out of the hall.

***

Three days after the council meeting, Helena held one of her regular women’s gatherings at the Oatrun Estate.

It began as it always did—long tables arranged in the courtyard, baskets of fabric, herbs, bread, and coins set aside for charity distribution.

Women from different packs sat together: wives of warriors, traders’ daughters, widows, seamstresses, healers.

The air was polite, but strained. Helena noticed it immediately. The usual warmth was thinner, and the whispers slightly sharper.

She waited patiently until a middle-aged woman, usually bold, cleared her throat. “Luna Helena… is it true?”

Helena looked up from the ledger she had been reviewing. “Is what true?”

The woman hesitated. “About the Queen. That she… carries fae blood.”

A few heads lowered while others leaned closer. Helena did not rush to answer. Instead, she folded her hands calmly on the table.

“Yes,” she said gently. “It is true.”

A ripple passed through them, then another woman whispered, “Then the rumours—”

Helena lifted her hand slightly. “Let us speak of the full truth,” she said. The courtyard quieted, giving her room to speak. “When the vampires broke into the palace, who stood between them and our King?”

A deeper silence enveloped the atmosphere. However, Helena continued with a steady voice. “The Queen.”

She let that settle for a moment before adding, “She fought. She bled. She nearly died. Not for power or dominance, but to protect Stormveil.”

The women exchanged glances, prompting Helena to lean forward slightly. “Her power did not harm us. It saved us.”

A younger woman murmured, “But… fae blood. It is unpredictable.”

Helena smiled faintly. “Unpredictable?” she repeated softly. “Or powerful?” She let her gaze sweep through the women before continuing, “Tell me, if the Moon Goddess disapproved of her, would she have blessed their coronation before the entire kingdom?”

That struck deeper than any statement she had made before. The older women stiffened slightly. They had seen the sign.

“The Moon Goddess does not make mistakes,” Helena said carefully. “If she placed Meredith Carter on the throne beside our King, then who are we to fear what the Goddess herself has accepted?”

The shift began there. Helena did not attack the rumours. She reframed them.

“Yes, our Queen is powerful,” she said. “Yes, she carries fae blood. And yes, she is still a Werewolf. She shifts fully. She fights for us. She governs with wisdom.” Then, her tone softened, “And perhaps Stormveil needed something more than ordinary strength in this season.”

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