I followed Yeon through the main entrance into the foyer, my eyes squinting against the flood of almost garish light.

The scent of freshly polished wood and faint herbal incense snaked through the air, dredging up memories I’d rather leave buried. Nostalgia always came coated in reluctance when it came to this house. It had been a while since I’d stepped foot inside, but every detail seemed preserved in amber. The same gleaming marble floors, the same enchanted family portraits with their lifeless, judging stares.

“Mother’s in the drawing room,” Yeon told me, and I noticed his expression was back to that maddeningly practised neutrality of his.

I nodded, letting out a small sigh as I trailed behind him. The house was always so quiet, broken only by the distant hum of the wind slipping past the open windows. Silence had its uses, but this kind made it easy to think—or overthink, in my case.

As we approached the living room, faint sounds started to filter through: the muffled chatter of servants, the distant clink of silverware from the dining hall.

“Welcome home, Lady Celeste,” a familiar voice greeted. Galen, one of the few constants in this place, gave a polite bow.

“Thank you, Galen,” I replied with a nod, though my words lacked the sincerity he deserved. His sharp, elvish features hadn’t aged a day, and neither, it seemed, had his loyalty.

“Are you nervous?” Yeon asked, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Nervous?” I scoffed, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. “Why would I be nervous about facing Mother’s endless disapproval or Father’s thinly veiled quizzes on topics I barely care for? It sounds delightful.”

His lips curled in amusement, the closest Yeon ever got to a real smile. “They do care, you know, in their own” peculiar way.”

“Do you mean soul-crushing?” I muttered. “But, sure, we can pretend our parents are paragons of familial affection.”

We reached the drawing room, its heavy mahogany doors groaning as Yeon pushed them open. Inside, the curtains were partially drawn, allowing just enough sunlight to create a golden glow on the floor. Dust motes danced in the air, a rare hint of imperfection in an otherwise pristine space.

Mother sat in her usual throne-like chair, her back impossibly straight, a book draped over her lap like a prop in some staged portrait. She looked up as we entered, her emerald gaze as icy as always.

“Celeste,” she said before setting the book aside, her eyes studying me. She had changed out of her formal court attire from earlier already, which made me feel like I had crawled here.

“Mother,” I greeted her, keeping my tone deliberately even. No warmth, no hostility—just neutrality. It was the only way I knew to survive these interactions.

“You took your time getting here,” she observed, a faint frown tugging at her lips. “I assume you had more pressing matters to attend to?”

“You could say that,” I replied. “The walk was refreshing. And I ran into Thalion on the way.”

Mother’s brows lifted a fraction, the subtlest acknowledgment of interest. “The Perseus heir? And what did he want?”

“To talk, as usual,” I replied, giving Yeon a quick glance. He inclined his head, which was his silent nudge for me to just say it because mother already knew. “He professed his interest again. Yeon sent him packing.”

Mother’s lips quirked, an expression too restrained to be called a smile. “Persistent, but persistence is not sincerity. The Perseus house clings to tradition with a fervour bordering on fanaticism. You’d do well to remember that before entertaining any fantasies about him.”

“I have no fantasies about Thalion,” I assured her. Or anyone else, for that matter.

She gave a faint nod. “Good. You have greater responsibilities now. And such distractions are dangerous. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I understand,” I replied, my voice flat enough to mask my annoyance.

“Yeon, hurry your father and Cullen along. We have much to discuss before you have to pack up to join your sister.”

“Yes, Mother,” Yeon replied, his movements swift and precise as he vanished out of the drawing room without a moment’s hesitation.

“What do you mean pack up?” I asked my mother.

“I don’t suppose they failed to teach you proper grammar at the academy,” she said. “Did you really think I would let you travel Wridel alone, without adequate protection?”

“No, but Mother, Yeon’”

“Is the best person for the job. Not to mention, your father and I have already contracted the best bodyguards and attendants for this trip. I would sooner drive a stake into my own heart than leave your protection to those snivelling high lords.”

I exhaled a sigh, only because I understood my mother’s plight. She knew better than I did what the council was capable of.

“Your safety comes first, and like I told the council, I will handle that aspect of your journey. Your father has arranged the best and most trusted guards for you. I have vetted your attendants as well. You are a Le Torneau, and that is both a privilege and a burden. Don’t forget it.”

I forced a smile. “How could I?”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant sound of Cullen’s laughter from somewhere else in the house as it drew closer. I glanced toward the door, then back at my mother.

“Your marriage,” she began, because of course this was coming, “must solidify your position in Wridel. The Irving House is the strongest choice. With Loreleia delaying your public announcement, it’s clear she intends to sow discord.”

I blinked at her as Alpha Devon’s face popped back in my head. “And you already have someone in mind, I assume?”

“I do. You’ll meet him tonight. The young lord of the Irving House will join us for dinner.”

The young lord? A vague unease prickled at me. Not Alpha Devon himself, then. A son, maybe? That thought annoyed me more than it should have. Not that it mattered. The idea of attaching myself to anyone left me cold, but I knew better than to argue with mother supreme.

“I do have to get back to the Sanctum soon,” I reminded her.

“You do not. You will stay here tonight. The council emissaries will join your entourage from here at daybreak,” Mother announced.

Before I could respond, Father and my brothers entered, and Cullen pulled me into the tightest hug. Did he forget he was a Lycan, and I wasn’t? I squirmed, trying to push him off, but his grip was like an iron vice. I elbowed him playfully in the ribs, which only made him laugh harder.

“Come on, Cullen! Let go!” I protested, trying to claw myself away from his hold. My efforts were in vain, he was far too strong, and he seemed to be enjoying this way too much.

“Not until you admit you missed me,” he teased, his laugh rumbling in my ear.

“I can’t breathe, you oaf!” I gasped, trying to twist away. I managed to stomp on his foot, and he yelped, loosening his grip just enough for me to wriggle free.

“Welcome back, Celeste,” Father said as he went to mother’s side.

“It’s good to be back, father,” I replied, smoothing my crumpled robes, though the fabric was more stubborn than my glare at Cullen.

Yeon stepped closer, and his elbow nudged mine lightly, a gesture that felt more habitual than reassuring. “Mother says we have much to discuss, and I think we all know what that means.”

“Politics,” Cullen groaned, his face instantly souring.

“Politics,” Mother confirmed, her gaze sweeping over all of us. “And this matter concerns our family directly. Celeste has been chosen as the Supreme Eminence’s successor.”

The words dropped like a boulder in the room and everything was quiet for an endless moment.

Cullen’s eyes widened, and he looked between me and Mother, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling for words. “What? Celeste, are you serious?”

Mother didn’t even spare me a glance, her focus now fixed sharply on Cullen, as though his reaction to the news had already displeased her. “Of course she’s serious. She was made for this. She is a Le Torneau.”

Ah, the Le Torneau creed: strength in all things, or at least the convincing appearance of it. A neat little mantra for a family that demanded the impossible with a smile. I only hoped I could meet the expectation, or at least fake it convincingly.

“Your mother and I have already planned the next steps. Yeon will accompany Celeste on her tour of the Sovereignty. Meanwhile, you, Cullen, will remain here to assist us in preparing for her coronation,” father said, but Cullen frowned and I knew he would have preferred to escort me in Yeon’s place from that look. Father continued as though he hadn’t noticed Cullen’s disappointment.

“With this selection, the Le Torneau house will ascend to the Great Houses. Celeste is now a target for every schemer and opportunist in Wridel. Since the announcement, we’ve already received three marriage alliance proposals.”

“Outrageous,” Yeon spat. Then his eyes locked on me. “That explains the little visit from Thalion earlier, doesn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not really.”

“He is irrelevant,” Mother interjected, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand as if she was brushing crumbs from a table. Her focus shifted to Cullen. “We need Wridel to know Gaia has made her choice for a successor. The council believes delaying the announcement until the coronation is acceptable. I disagree. The first step in ensuring Gaia’s will prevails is making sure the people know it.”

Cullen straightened. “Consider it done, Mother. Gwen and I will ensure it’s the talk of every corner of the Sovereignty.”

I raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at my lips. “Speaking of Gwen, you do realize I still haven’t met her, right? Are you sure she exists, or did you invent her just to impress me?”

Cullen’s laughter surprised me. It was strange, seeing him like this; lighter, freer. Whatever effect Gwen had on him, I liked it.

“Once we’re done here, I’ll introduce you,” he promised, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm but not suffocating this time. “Don’t worry, Celeste. If anyone dares challenge your place, they’ll have to deal with me first.”

I smiled, a genuine smile this time, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Mother’s gaze softened, just barely, before her familiar steel returned. She gave a brisk nod, her tone shifting to business. “Good. Now, let’s turn our attention to the evening. Lord Irving and the young lord will arrive shortly. We must make the appropriate impression.”

The young lord of the Irving House? And Alpha Devon? My thoughts flickered to the latter, unbidden. At least one part of this evening might prove interesting.