Elara woke to the sound of birds.
It was such a small thing—such an ordinary, human thing—that for a moment she couldn't place it. Birdsong meant peace. Birdsong meant safety. Birdsong meant no rogues at the borders, no master hunting her, no immediate threat of death.
Birdsong meant she could breathe.
Kael stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist. "You're thinking too loud."
"Sorry." She smiled, tracing patterns on his chest. "I forgot how to think quietly."
"Mmm." He pulled her closer. "Think quietly later. Sleep now."
"I can't. There's too much to do." But she made no move to leave the warmth of his arms. "Council meeting. Rebuilding plans. Messages from other packs. The loyalists—"
"Will wait another hour." His eyes opened, silver and warm. "You just survived a war, a trial, and the emotional exhaustion of judging your enemy. You can take one hour to rest."
Through the bond, she felt his steady love—and his absolute refusal to let her run herself into the ground.
Fine, she thought. One hour.
Good. He kissed her forehead. Now be quiet and let me hold you.
She laughed softly. Settled against him.
And for one precious hour, there was only peace.
---
The council gathered in Kael's study mid-morning.
Not a large group—just the wolves Elara had learned to trust most. Kael, of course. Cassian and Lyra. Dace with his ever-present quill and parchment. Sera, who'd emerged as a natural leader among the loyalists. And Bran, the ancient elder from Misty Peaks, whose wisdom had proven invaluable.
Elara sat at the head of the table—not because she demanded it, but because they'd placed her there. Their queen. Their hope.
"First order of business." Cassian spread a map across the table. "Other packs are responding to the news. We've received messages from a dozen territories since dawn."
"Good news or bad?" Kael asked.
"Both." Cassian pointed at the map. "These three—" He indicated packs in the southern territories. "—have pledged loyalty to the Crown immediately. They're sending representatives to formally swear fealty."
Elara nodded. "Good. And the bad?"
"These two." He pointed at northern packs. "They're... waiting. Seeing how things settle before committing."
"Waiting is fine," Kael observed. "Waiting isn't hostility."
"No." Cassian's jaw tightened. "But this one is." He pointed at a territory near the eastern wastelands. "Shadowfang Pack. Their Alpha has publicly declared you a pretender. Says he won't recognize any Crown that isn't proven in combat."
Proven in combat. The old way—the way of the master, of Marlena, of everything Elara was trying to change.
"What does that mean?" she asked quietly. "Proven in combat?"
Bran answered, his ancient voice heavy. "It means he wants you to fight him. One on one. Winner takes all." He met her eyes. "It's an old tradition. A challenge to the Crown's authority. If you refuse, he'll use it to rally others against you."
"And if I accept?"
"Then you fight an Alpha who's spent fifty years perfecting the art of killing."
Silence.
Kael's hand found hers under the table. Through the bond, she felt his fury—and beneath it, his terror at the thought of her in such danger.
You're not doing this, he thought. I won't let you.
We'll discuss it later.
There's nothing to discuss—
Later.
---
The council continued.
Sera reported on loyalist integration—the families who'd hidden were slowly emerging, finding places in the new Blackthorn. Some chose to stay. Others asked permission to return to their original territories, carrying news of the restored Crown.
Dace shared his chronicles—the records he was keeping of everything that had happened, everything being built. "Future generations need to know," he said simply. "Need to remember what was sacrificed to get here."
Lyra updated on security. The borders were quiet. Rogues had scattered after the master's death, leaderless and confused. "They're not a threat right now. But they could become one again if someone rallies them."
"Then we need to offer them an alternative." Elara's voice was thoughtful. "Not all rogues chose that life willingly. Some were exiled unfairly. Some were pups when their packs were destroyed. If we can find a way to offer them a place—"
"You'd bring rogues into the kingdom?" Bran's eyebrows rose.
"I'd bring wolves into the kingdom. Wolves who need a home." She met his gaze steadily. "Isn't that what the Crown is supposed to do? Protect? Provide?"
Bran stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"You really are your mother's daughter," he murmured. "She said the same thing once. When the council argued against offering sanctuary to displaced packs." He shook his head. "We'll need to be careful. Vet them thoroughly. But... it's worth considering."
Elara nodded. "Then we consider it. Carefully. With all the wisdom we can gather."
---
The meeting stretched into afternoon.
By the time they broke, Elara's head spun with details—supply lines and messenger routes, housing allocations and trade agreements, a dozen small decisions that somehow added up to ruling.
Kael found her on the balcony afterward, staring at the mountains.
"Overwhelmed?"
"Terrified." She didn't turn. "Every decision affects someone's life. Every choice helps someone and hurts someone else. And I'm supposed to just... know which is which?"
He came to stand beside her. "You're supposed to listen. Learn. Make the best choice you can with the information you have." A pause. "That's what you've been doing. That's what you'll keep doing."
"Shadowfang." She finally looked at him. "You think I shouldn't fight."
"I think—" He stopped. Gathered himself. "I think watching you die once was enough. I can't do it again."
Through the bond, his fear washed over her—raw and real and utterly without shame. This wasn't the Alpha who'd rejected her. This was the mate who'd died for her, who'd been pulled back from death by her love, who couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
"I know." She touched his face. "I feel it. Every moment. And I'm not dismissing it. But—" She met his eyes. "If I refuse this challenge, others will follow Shadowfang's lead. The kingdom we're building will crumble before it starts. Because they'll see a queen who's afraid to fight for her crown."
"Then let me fight for you." His voice was fierce. "The challenge is to the Crown, not to you personally. A champion can—"
"The challenge is to me." She shook her head. "Bran made that clear. Shadowfang's Alpha specifically called me a pretender. If I send someone else, it proves his point—that I'm not strong enough to lead."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You're strong enough. I know that. But strength isn't always about fighting."
"No. Sometimes it's about making hard choices." She stepped closer. "And this is a hard choice. For both of us. But I need you to trust me. The way I trusted you when you fought Marlena's champion. The way I trusted you when you stayed behind to fight the hounds."
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he pulled her close.
"I hate this," he murmured against her hair.
"I know."
"I hate that you're right."
"I know that too."
"I love you. More than anything. And if you die—"
"I won't." She pulled back to look at him. "I have too much to live for. Too much to fight for. Too many people counting on me." She touched his face. "Including you."
He kissed her then—fierce and desperate and full of everything he couldn't say.
When they broke apart, his silver eyes held hers.
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow. The sooner this is settled, the better." She took a breath. "And you're coming with me. Not as my champion—as my mate. My anchor. The person who keeps me grounded when everything else falls apart."
"Always." His voice was steady now. Certain. "Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you face, I face. That's what mates do."
That's what mates do.
Through the bond, his love flowed into her—steady and warm and absolutely unshakeable.
Whatever came tomorrow, she wouldn't face it alone.
---
That night, Elara dreamed of her mother again.
The Queen sat on the silver throne, younger than Elara had ever seen her, radiant with power and hope.
Daughter. Her voice was warm. I heard about Shadowfang.
Of course you did. Elara almost smiled. Do you ever stop watching?
Never. A mother's love doesn't end with death. The Queen rose, approached her. You're afraid.
Terrified.
Good. Fear keeps you sharp. Fear keeps you alive. She stopped before Elara. But don't let it rule you. You have everything you need—strength, wisdom, a mate who loves you, people who believe in you. That's more than most queens ever have.
What if it's not enough?
The Queen smiled—sad and proud and infinitely loving.
It will be. Because you'll make it enough. That's what our line does. We rise. We fight. We survive. And then we build something beautiful from the ashes.
She reached out, touched Elara's face.
I'm so proud of you. So proud of the woman you've become. Now go—face your enemy. Show him what a real queen can do.
Elara woke with the sunrise.
And for the first time since hearing Shadowfang's challenge, she felt ready.
---
End of Chapter 26🐺