The moment Serena left to get ready with Elara, restlessness settled in.
Finally, it was evening. Serena time.
And then he saw her. Golden dress shimmering beneath a thick white cloak, peeking through when she moved. Hair pinned up, elegant.
She was devastating.
Dexmon still couldn't believe she was his.
"Gods help me." He grinned, his eyes slow and shameless as they traveled the length of her. "You're going to ruin me."
Her smile was wicked. "Did you miss me?"
"Yes," he answered with no hesitation. He pressed kisses along her neck, her jaw, her shoulder, anywhere he could reach.
She started to laugh.
And Dex had the urge to pick her up. But he knew better. So he settled for interlocking fingers.
Everyone rose to their feet the moment they entered.
The ritual hall was vast, far larger than the pack initiation grounds she had seen before. This one was underground, with no windows, and the seating was carved directly into stone.
At least three hundred were present, by Serena's quick count. Dignitaries, elders, nobles, generals. All watching.
In the front, a crystal basin glowed with a dim flame.
Elara moved first, the silence of the hall swallowing every footfall. The silver trim of her gown caught the golden firelight and made her look lethal in silk.
Hyran raised his hand, voice rolling like thunder through the carved chamber.
"Elara Vaelor," he intoned, "do you step forth into this hall of blood and flame to take up the mantle of Beta Luna, as it was first sworn?"
Her voice rang clear and certain. "I do."
"Do you bind your life and loyalty to Drakenfell, to guard its people by blade and by breath, to lead the lost and steady the fallen, and to stand beside your Alpha King and your Luna Queen, until the last of your breath is spent?"
"I do."
Hale took his place beside her, holding an ancient dagger with the rune of the Beta etched into the pommel. He slashed his palm, blood hitting the basin.
He took Elara's hand next, cutting her palm cleanly, reverently. Her blood fell next to his, two rivers mingling.
"Set your hand to the flame." Hyran's voice echoed off the stone walls. "If your oath is true, it shall not burn."
Elara placed her hand in the fire, eyes still on Hale.
It roared to life. No longer a gentle flicker but a raging silver flame that lit the entire hall in cold brilliance.
The silver light surged into Elara like a bolt of power.
Gasps echoed from the audience. Nobles, warriors, and elders alike rose from their seats in awe.
Serena didn't have a point of reference for what was considered normal in this ceremony. She had only seen herself and Elara get initiated into the pack. But judging by the crowd's reaction, it wasn't.
Hale looked stunned for only a second, then smiled. His chest swelled with pride, like Elara had just aced the test on the first try.
Serena caught it and grinned.
The basin dimmed, settling into a soft glow again, the flame steady.
"Let the designee for Luna and Queen come forward." Hyran's tone shifted, heavier now, older.
Serena closed the distance, golden dress gleaming beneath her cloak, the hem whispering across the stone.
The hall was utterly silent.
Hyran turned to her, his voice carrying the weight of ages.
"Serena Frostborne," he intoned, "You stand within this hall to take upon yourself the oath of Princess of Drakenfell, and to be named Luna-to-come, Queen-in-waiting of this realm."
His words hung in the air like smoke.
"Do you swear by life and by oath to guard the people of Drakenfell as your own? To lead with measured wisdom, to grant mercy without frailty, and justice without vanity?"
"I do."
"Do you bind yourself to this land and to its long memory, to bear the Crown not as conquest nor reward, but as a charge carried for those who cannot carry it themselves?"
"I do."
"Please kneel."
She lowered herself to one knee. King Tiberon emerged from the shadows, silent and solemn, a gold crown in his hands. He placed it on Serena's head.
The instant it touched her, light exploded from the crown, blinding and brilliant.
The audience gasped. Several nobles raised their hands to shield their eyes. Others turned their faces away.
The golden light pulsed once, then surged downward through Serena's body, her skin and hair glowing from within.
Tiberon's jaw tightened. His eyes never left Serena, sharp and assessing.
Beside him, Bellatrix's face went white.
Whispers erupted.
"Holy gods..."
"Did you see..."
"The light..."
Dexmon stared, transfixed. He'd chosen this crown. It was the counterpart to his own. And it looked like it had always belonged on her head.
"You may rise."
Serena stood slowly, the weight of the crown surprisingly natural atop her head, like it had always belonged there.
She stepped back to Dexmon, who grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. He was fighting the urge to give her a kiss.
Tiberon moved to the crystal basin, drawing a ceremonial dagger etched with the Alpha rune.
He slashed his palm, and his blood fell into the basin.
Bellatrix took the dagger next, face tight. She shot Serena a glare of pure hatred. But unlike usual, she was silent. She cut her palm and let her blood fall beside Tiberon's.
Tiberon handed Dexmon the dagger, and stepped back with Bellatrix, so it was just Dexmon and Serena.
Dexmon cut his palm cleanly, red blood falling like ink into the fire.
The hall was dead silent. The crowd held their breath. Rumors of Serena's blood and Frostborne heritage had spread immediately after last night's dinner. Hyran called her Frostborne earlier, so that part was confirmed.
But gold blood seemed farfetched. Everyone leaned forward, not bothering to hide their curiosity.
Dexmon lifted Serena's hand to his lips, eyes full of love and adoration. He was proud beyond words to have her by his side. The kind of pride that made his chest ache and his throat tight.
Through their matebond, she felt every ounce of it.
He mouthed, "I love you."
She mouthed back, "I love you too."
Half the room looked like they'd forgotten how to close their mouths. Those who didn't live within the castle walls and hadn't witnessed Dexmon carrying Serena around the castle, or his open affection for her, were stunned. This didn't match the Commander of the Draken Forces or the Alpha Prince they knew.
Bellatrix looked like she'd eaten something sour.
Dexmon gently sliced Serena's palm. She didn't flinch, eyes never leaving his.
Gold blood welled in her hand before falling into the basin beside his.
Whispers broke out instantly.
"What is she?"
"Holy gods."
"Frostborne..."
At the scent of her blood, Dexmon's wolf slammed against his ribs, desperate for control. The instinct to mark and mate detonated through his entire body.
Out of habit, he breathed in her scent to calm himself. A mistake. Every muscle in his body went rigid.
Dex: I swear to god, if you come to the surface and mark her and start mating her in front of three hundred people, I will be so pissed.
Aegon: I'm not out of my mind. She would hate us if we did that. I'm fighting it too.
Dex: Why is her blood affecting us like this? It doesn't normally.
He held his breath and shifted his gaze away from her.
Aegon: Exhale before you pass out, genius.
Dex: If I let go of this breath I think I'm going to tackle her.
Aegon: We do not tackle mate during a sacred ceremony.
Dex: I KNOW!
Dex stepped away from the basin, moving next to Tiberon. He forced himself to breathe slowly, shallowly, through his mouth. Every inhale was a fight for control.
Serena felt his tension through their matebond. But he wasn't looking at her.
For a heartbeat, she wondered if she had done something to upset him. But Hyran's voice broke her out of that spiral.
"Set your hand to the flame. If your oath is true, it shall not burn."
Serena took a steadying breath and placed her bloodied palm into the flame.
Immediately she felt its soothing warmth. The same warmth that she felt when she was initiated into the pack.
Behind her, Gavriel snickered under his breath. "Mm. Wait for it."
A quiet prayer echoed in her head.
Please don't explode. Not in front of three hundred people.