I turned slowly, careful to smooth out my expression. No frowns, no rolling my eyes, just polite neutrality. “Of course, Your Eminence,” I said with the sweetest tone I could muster while bowing my head.

The rest of the council filtered out, their gazes flickering toward us briefly before they made themselves scarce. If I’m being honest, it didn’t bother me at all. This was bound to happen.

When the room was empty, Loreleia gestured for me to sit. I didn’t.

Instead, I clasped my hands in front of me and tilted my head. “What can I do for you, Your Eminence?”

Those sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly for a moment as she studied me. She was perfectly illuminated from the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, as if she were some ethereal being sent to remind us of our shortcomings.

“It’s rare to see someone so young in your position,” she said, and her tone was that same sickly-sweet condescension. How truly pathetic of her. “It is unfounded that Gaia will appoint a successor so young. Quite the title for someone still finding their footing.”

I offered her a small smile because I didn’t understand what was young about twenty-three seasons. “The goddess’s will is rarely predictable, wouldn’t you agree?”

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, so brief that I might have imagined it.

“Indeed,” she said, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “But will alone isn’t enough. It’s a tough job, and it takes strength, wisdom, and an understanding of the tenuous balance we maintain between races, great houses, and the realms around Wridel. Would you consider yourself ready for such a responsibility, Lady Celeste?”

Ah, there it was. The thinly veiled challenge. While I respect her as expected, I was really beginning to loathe her for her shady attacks. “I believe Gaia has faith in me. And that is enough.”

She leaned back slightly, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Faith, yes. But faith must be tempered with preparation. There’s no room for error in your role. The consequences of a single mistake could be far-reaching.”

I eyed her. “That’s the whole point of my journey through Wridel, isn’t it? Learning, observing, and growing into this role like you did.”

She didn’t respond right away, but her eyes narrowed as she assessed me. It made me wonder why she was against me as her successor. There must be more to it than just me not coming from a Great House or being the first witch to become Supreme Eminence.

Did she really think she couldn’t be replaced after reigning for over a hundred seasons? Maybe it was more personal, some deep-seated dislike she had for reasons that only she understood? I wanted to believe it was more than just her towering ego and stifling pretentiousness. There must be a genuine reason for her refusal to accept Gaia’s will.

Finally, she nodded, and there was a smidgen of approval in her expression. “Good. Then I’ll expect you to join me tomorrow for a private conference. There’s much I can teach you as is expected of me, and it would be wise to take advantage of the opportunity.”

I hesitated, caught off guard by what felt like an olive branch, and I doubted it was entirely without thorns. Was it genuine? Or another test, a subtle way of prodding me to see how far I’d bend before I broke? In either case, I knew I couldn’t say no.

“Of course, your eminence,” I said, inclining my head. “I look forward to it.”

While her smile technically qualified as polite, there was something chilling about it that made me nervous. “Then I’ll see you in the morning. Until then, Lady Celeste. Good luck with Devon. I hope you’re having fun. That recluse rarely invites anyone into his realm for longer than a formal visit, yet he’s invited you to stay for five seasons? Does that mean the match with his son went well?”

“I didn’t realize the arrangement needed your approval, Your Eminence,” I replied. “But I’ll give the Irving family your congratulations.”

Though her fake smile remained intact, her eyes darkened. “Do that.”

With a slight incline of her head, she dismissed me, and I wasted no time leaving, nor did I bother looking back. As I made my way halfway down the hall, I was able to breathe comfortably again, no longer pinched with the ache in my clenched fists.

As soon as I spotted Devon waiting near the entrance, I exhaled heavily, letting the tension in my shoulders ease away.

“Well?” he asked as I approached. “Did you leave her head still attached to her body?”

Before I could stop myself, a laugh escaped me. I hadn’t expected him to joke, much less to imply he thought I was powerful enough to take on the Supreme Sovereign and win.

“She was gracious as ever,” I muttered, tugging at the folds of my green robe to give my hands something to do. “Apparently, I’ve earned myself a private conference with her tomorrow.”

One brow arched slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You must have impressed her.”

“Or she’s plotting my demise,” I replied dryly, glancing up at him.

“Probably both,” he stated with a slight smile that caused my nerves to tingle. “But you handled yourself well. Keep that up, and you might survive.”

I rolled my eyes. “High praise, Alpha Devon. Truly inspiring. Should I start drafting my victory speech now?”

His smile softened. “Come,” he said, stepping aside to lead the way. “You’ll want to prepare for tomorrow. Loreleia doesn’t play fair.”

“Shocking,” I deadpanned.

“Understand this,” he continued, “a conference with her isn’t simply a meeting. It’s a power dance, and every move she makes is calculated to undermine you. If she senses weakness, she’ll exploit it. If she finds strength, she’ll try to crush it.”

I raised a brow. “Sounds delightful. Should I bring flowers, or will a dagger suffice?”

“You’ll bring a dagger and your wit, and I’ll make sure you know how to use both,” he said evenly. “We’ll train through the night if we must. I trained her myself. I know exactly what she’s capable of, and I can guarantee she is a force to be reckoned with.”

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so annoyingly certain, that I almost bristled. But then I realized he wasn’t trying to rattle me. He didn’t intend to intimidate or frighten me, even though that was how it came off. Even though Devon was just trying to prepare me, he had a way about him that didn’t feel very warm.

“Lovely,” I said, exhaling sharply. “Nothing like a sleepless night to boost one’s confidence.”

“Better to be sleepless than to walk in unarmed.”

After barely processing the idea of an all-night training marathon with Devon, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. My parents were headed straight for us. My mother’s face was a storm cloud of fury, and even my father looked grim.

“Now might be a good time to let you in on something,” Devon said quickly.

Turning to him, I braced myself for the worst. “What now?”

“As Alpha of the Irving house, I am also Alpha of the Lycan race,” he began, as if that was supposed to mean something to me. “That means after I claimed you, any Lycan who sees you will recognize you as my Luna.”

I stared at him, blinking slowly as my father’s reaction from before clicked. “And you’re just now telling me this?”

Before he could answer, my mother reached us, her fury nearly igniting the air around her. Her fire magic, always a quiet hum in the background, flared to life.

“Lord Irving,” she said, and her voice was tight with barely controlled anger as she inclined her head. “There seems to be a misunderstanding of some sort. You see, my husband is under the impression—an incorrect impression, mind you—that Celeste is now your Luna. I would like you to correct his assumptions and put both our minds to rest.”

Her words were composed, but the fire in her eyes could have burned through steel. Her request was a warning wrapped in the sickly-sweet veneer of diplomacy.

I glanced at Devon, bracing for the explosion that was sure to follow. Devon was as immovable as stone, and just as stubborn. If anyone could match my mother in sheer unrelenting obstinance, it was him. This was going to end badly.

“There is no misunderstanding, Lady Saffron,” he said respectfully. “Celeste is my Luna.”

Oh, Gaia.

Mother’s magic flared again, a ripple of heat that made me step back instinctively. “You cannot be serious,” she hissed.

“I am entirely serious,” Devon replied, and his tone was surprisingly cool enough to douse her flames, though not enough to extinguish her wrath. “I see nothing wrong with claiming the woman Gaia intended for me.”

Oh, wonderful. He didn’t care that he was stoking an already raging inferno.

I wanted to disappear. Or at least shrink into a less conspicuous version of myself. But no, I was stuck between my fuming mother and an unflappable Alpha who had apparently decided chaos was the theme of the day. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“Mother, please,” I said, glancing around at the growing crowd of onlookers. Their whispers and curious glances were as subtle as a herd of elephants. “We’re still in the Sovereign’s realm. Can we discuss this some place else?”

She turned her glare on me, sharp enough to slice through stone, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. “Celeste returns to Morinpar with us now. This excursion to your realm is off.”

“Lady Le Torneau.”

The sovereign’s voice cut through like a finely honed blade.

I turned to see Loreleia approaching, her attendants trailing behind her in their usual stately formation. It wasn’t surprising she popped into this, though. I got the sense that she thrived on moments like this, where she could loom over a personal dispute and remind every one of her authority.

“What rage,” Loreleia said in a silken tone. After my mother, she stared at Devon, then at me, just long enough to make me feel uncomfortable. “But might I remind you all that this is a council chamber, not a theatre for familial disputes?”

“If there’s an issue, Lady Le Torneau,” Loreleia continued, “perhaps it can be addressed privately.”

I half expected my mother’s jaw to snap from how tightly it was clenched as she inclined her head. “Of course, Your Eminence. My apologies.”

Loreleia’s smile widened as she turned her gaze to Devon. “Lord Irving, surely this has nothing to do with your rather unusual request to have young Lady Le Torneau on your island for five seasons? I must say, I found that peculiar, considering your son, whom both your houses intend for my successor to mate with, doesn’t even reside there. Am I to believe you had no ulterior motives with the youngling?”

Ah, there it was. The question she’d been circling like a vulture was finally out. It wasn’t just an attack on Devon; it was a thinly veiled jab at me. And frankly, I’d had enough.

Devon opened his mouth, likely preparing to deliver one of his infuriatingly measured responses, but I wasn’t in the mood to let him play diplomat. No, there were a few things I needed to get off my chest.

“That does not concern you, Lady Loreleia,” I said as I glared at her. The rage buzzing in my ears was a roar I barely contained. My clenched fists were the only outward sign of my restraint. This wasn’t the place for an explosion, not yet. But she needed to understand one thing: successor did not mean puppet.

Her perfectly arched brows lifted ever so slightly, the smallest crack in her otherwise impenetrable composure. Surprise? I didn’t care.

But I wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“My private affairs, including my ties with Lord Irving, are not subject to your approval,” I continued. “And while I admire the Sovereignty’s penchant for involving itself in matters beyond its purview, I must insist that this particular issue remains firmly mine to manage.”

The murmurs among the attendants and lingering council members died as my voice echoed in the corridor.

I bowed my head, just enough to feign deference, but it was nothing more than a thin veneer of politeness. “I apologize, of course, for the outburst caused by my family and I. It will not happen again. We will ensure that the theatre of our personal disputes is kept behind closed doors, as per your command.”

My words were courteous enough to avoid outright disrespect. But the message was clear: You don’t control me, Lady Loreleia, and I refuse to entertain your meddling any further.

For a long moment, she simply stared, her saccharine smile frozen in place like a mask she wasn’t sure whether to drop or double down on. After a long silence, she finally nodded, the gesture more mechanical than genuine.

“Well,” she said, “I’m pleased to see you’ve found your voice, Celeste Le Torneau. Let us hope it serves you well in the seasons to come.”

But as I stood there holding her gaze, all I could think was: this woman is going to make my life hell.