The grand hall of the Blackmoon citadel glittered like a jeweled crown that night. Golden candelabras cast warm light over rows of long tables laden with venison, roasted pheasant, bowls of steaming root vegetables, and wine that shimmered like garnet in crystal goblets. Laughter and the clinking of silverware rang in the air, but beneath the polished decorum was a taut string of unspoken tension.
Natalie sat to the left of Alpha Damien, her position a constant reminder to every noble present that she was not just a guest, but someone under the King's personal watch. That, of course, did nothing to ease the hostility in the eyes that followed her every move. She could feel it,daggers hidden behind cordial smiles.
The nobles, dressed in silks and lined in the colors of their respective houses, whispered behind their goblets. Some did not bother to lower their voices when speaking about her; their disdain was laced in every glance, every murmured word. She caught the tail end of a conversation between a baroness and a viscount three seats away.
Natalie kept her gaze fixed on the silver plate before her, slicing a piece of roasted pheasant with meticulous precision. She had learned long ago that acknowledging such whispers only gave them more power. Still, her pulse throbbed at her temples.
Damien, however, was not so restrained. She felt the subtle shift in the air as he turned toward them, his voice deceptively calm. "Is my table so dull that you must seek entertainment in slander, Malrick?"
The viscount paled, his fork clattering softly against his plate. "N-no, Your Majesty. Forgive me—"
Damien's gaze lingered a moment longer, sharp as a blade, before he turned back to his own meal. He didn't look at Natalie, but the message was clear: he had heard, and he was watching.
The music from the minstrels swelled to fill the silence, though it did little to dispel the heaviness pressing down on the hall. Natalie forced herself to take a sip from her goblet, hoping the wine would dull the heat in her chest.
It didn't.
Halfway through the meal, a strange sensation crept over her,first a wave of warmth that wasn't from the wine, then a swirling disorientation that made the edges of her vision waver. She blinked, trying to clear it, but the feeling only worsened. Her throat felt tight, her breathing shallow.
Her fingers tightened around the goblet, knuckles whitening. This isn't normal.
She lowered the glass and stared at its contents. The wine was the same dark red it had been before, but now she noticed an odd, faintly bitter scent beneath the sweet aroma of berries. It was subtle;almost imperceptible;but she knew enough of herbs and toxins to recognize danger when it slid its claws into her.
She set the goblet down with deliberate calm, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs Her wolf stirs uncomfortably within her. Around her, the nobles continued their meal, oblivious.
Damien noticed before anyone else. His gaze flicked to her face, narrowing when he saw the unnatural pallor in her skin. "What's wrong?" His voice was low, meant only for her.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pushed the goblet slightly toward him. "Taste it," she murmured.
He didn't hesitate,didn't even lift it to his lips before his expression darkened. In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet, the scrape of his chair echoing through the hall. "Everyone!!out!!."
The command was a thunderclap.
The entire room froze, eyes darting between him and Natalie
"You heard me!" he barked, his voice carrying the weight of the Alpha "Guards, clear the hall!"
Chairs scraped against stone, skirts rustled, boots clattered as the nobles scrambled to obey. Some protested under their breath, others cast furtive glances at Natalie as they were ushered out. Within moments, the grand hall was empty save for Damien, Natalie, and four guards standing at attention.
Damien turned back to her, his eyes storm-dark. "Who served you this?"
She steadied her breathing, forcing herself to straighten in her chair despite the way her body still felt sluggish. "It doesn't matter," she said evenly. "I can handle it."
His jaw tightened. "Handle it?"
"I've dealt with worse," she said, reaching for the goblet. "A mild paralytic mixed with something to cloud the senses. They miscalculated the dose." She lifted the drink to her nose, inhaling the faint bitterness again. "If I focus, it'll pass in a few hours."
Damien stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. "You were poisoned, Natalie."
"And I'm not dead," she countered.
One of the guards shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure whether to intervene.
Damien leaned forward, placing both hands on the table as he loomed over her. "Do you think this is a game? Someone just tried to kill you in my hall, under my protection."
She met his gaze, unflinching. "And panicking about it won't stop them from trying again."
For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other,the unyielding Alpha and the Princess who refuse to bow.
Then, something in his expression shifted. The fury was still there, but it was tempered with something heavier, something almost dangerous in its intensity.
He straightened, his voice low, every word deliberate. "If they come for you, they come for me."
She blinked, the weight of his words sinking in.
"And I," he continued, his eyes locking with hers, "don't forgive."
The hall was silent save for the crackle of the torches, but the promise in his tone was louder than any threat she had ever heard.