The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 52: The Feast of victory

The throne hall was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, but the air felt tense despite the celebration. Banners of different households hung from the high ceilings, and servants moved between tables carrying trays of roasted meat, bread, and wine. Musicians played soft tunes from one corner, and the smell of spiced food and alcohol filled the air.

King Alaric stood at the center of the long table, raising his cup toward the crowd. "Tonight, we celebrate victory," he said, his voice echoing across the hall. "The threat of the Wanderers was met with courage and strength. My daughter, Aveloria, led our soldiers and returned victorious. We honor her bravery, the loyalty of Galen, and the protection of Theron."

The guests applauded, some loudly, while others did so half-heartedly. Aveloria sat beside her father, her shoulders straight and her face calm, though she could feel every stare directed at her.

She smiled politely, nodding to the elders who congratulated her. Beside her, Theron sat tall, quiet, and composed, though his gaze occasionally flickered toward her, checking if she was all right.

At the far end of the table, Marek entered the hall late. His boots echoed against the marble floor, and several heads turned to watch him approach. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were dark with irritation.

He bowed briefly to the king before taking his seat. His gaze went immediately to Aveloria and then to Theron beside her.

He had barely slept since the night he saw Theron enter her chamber. He had gone to see her himself, to talk about the mission and to tell her he was proud. But when he reached her door, he saw Theron walk in. He had waited, thinking it might be a brief conversation, but then he heard soft moans coming from inside.

The realization had hit him like a blow. He didn’t need to see it to know what had happened.

Now, sitting across from them at the table, every glance between them made his blood boil.

Theron leaned closer to Aveloria at one point, saying something only she could hear. She gave a small smile, and that was enough to make Marek look away, gripping his goblet until his knuckles turned white.

His father, seated a few seats down, noticed his tension and whispered, "You’re drawing attention. Control yourself."

Marek didn’t answer. He just nodded stiffly.

Alaric continued his speech, praising not only his daughter but also the men who had fought beside her. "Tonight, we honor courage, unity, and loyalty," he said. "Let this be a reminder that even in dark times, Lycanthria stands strong."

The crowd cheered again. Servants began pouring more wine and bringing fresh plates. Laughter and chatter returned to the room.

Aveloria tried to relax. She had done her best to look composed, her hair neatly pinned, and was dressed in a silver gown. She didn’t like such gatherings, but she knew her presence was necessary.

Theron leaned closer and said quietly, "You should eat something. You haven’t touched your plate."

She glanced at him. "I’m fine."

"You’ve been standing since morning. You need strength."

She gave a faint smile. "You sound like Galen."

"He seems to be right most of the time," Theron replied, trying to lighten the mood.

But his words only reminded her that Galen wasn’t there. The seat meant for him was empty, marked with his name and a small goblet beside it. He was still in the infirmary, recovering from the wounds he’d taken during the battle. She’d visited him earlier that day and watched him sleep. The memory of his blood on her hands still made her uneasy.

Across the table, Eirene lifted her cup and smiled. "To the heiress," she roared, her tone sugary. "Her courage outshines even her father’s legacy."

Several guests turned toward her, smiling politely. Aveloria nodded in acknowledgment. freёweɓnovel.com

"Thank you, Lady Eirene," she said.

Eirene continued, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "You have certainly grown into a fine leader. I suppose facing monsters teaches one many things, like humility."

Some nearby guests chuckled awkwardly. Aveloria didn’t rise to the bait. "I try to learn what I can," she said evenly.

"Of course," Eirene said. "Though I do wonder if it was wise for you to risk so much. The realm can’t afford to lose its heir."

Theron turned his head sharply toward Eirene. "She didn’t risk the realm. She protected it." He said coldly.

Eirene gave him a faint smile. "And who would protect her, I wonder?"

"I would," he said without hesitation.

Murmurs spread briefly through the nearby tables. Aveloria shot him a glance, warning him silently not to continue. He took a breath and turned back to his plate.

King Alaric broke the tension with a short laugh. "Enough of politics for tonight," he said. "Let’s drink to peace for once."

The guests raised their cups again, though the mood had changed slightly.

Rowena, sitting beside her mother, smiled sweetly at the king. She was the perfect image of a well-bred noble daughter: calm, composed, and elegant. But her eyes were on Marek.

She caught his gaze once and held it a little too long. Then she looked away, pretending to laugh at something one of the ladies said.

Marek noticed the glance but didn’t respond. His attention was still drawn to Aveloria, who seemed to glow under the bright lighting. He couldn’t decide what angered him more, the idea that she had been with Theron, or that she looked so calm about it.

His father leaned closer again. "When the king asks you to speak, do not make a scene," he said under his breath.

"I won’t," Marek muttered, though his tone didn’t sound convincing.

At the king’s table, Alaric lifted his hand again. "Before the night ends, I’d like to honor one more thing: the bonds that hold this kingdom together. Marek," he said, turning toward him. "Would you make a toast?" fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Marek froze for a second, caught off guard. "Your Majesty?"

Alaric smiled. "You’ve always spoken well. Toast to strength, loyalty, and the alliances that keep us united."

The hall quieted slightly as everyone looked toward him.

Marek rose from his chair slowly, forcing a smile. He took the goblet in his hand and cleared his throat.

"To strength," he began. "To the courage of our people and the leadership of our future queen."

Several guests nodded approvingly.

He paused, glancing at Aveloria. Her expression was polite but distant. Their bond stirred faintly, the invisible link between them tightening painfully in his chest. He could feel her emotions, discomfort, exhaustion, and confusion. It only made him angrier.

"And to loyalty," he continued, his voice slightly sharper now. "To those who stand by each other, no matter the test. May we never forget who truly deserves our trust."

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. A few people exchanged curious glances.

Aveloria shifted in her seat, her heart pounding. She knew exactly what he meant.

Alaric smiled, unaware of the tension beneath the surface. "Well said," he declared, raising his cup again.

The crowd cheered lightly, but Aveloria couldn’t bring herself to drink. The bond between her and Marek pulsed with anger and hurt, overwhelming her senses. She could feel his jealousy, his bitterness. It was too much.

She stood abruptly. "Excuse me," she said softly.

Alaric frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I just need some air," she replied.

Theron started to rise, but she gestured for him to stay seated. She walked out of the hall as quietly as she could, ignoring the eyes that followed her.

Once outside, she stepped into the cool night air of the courtyard. The silence was a relief after the noise inside. She leaned against the stone railing, breathing slowly, trying to calm herself.

She didn’t notice the footsteps behind her until a familiar voice spoke.

"You shouldn’t run off during your own celebration."

Aveloria turned. It was Eirene.

"I needed space," she said flatly.

Eirene smiled faintly. "Of course. You’ve always been so independent."

Aveloria crossed her arms. "Did you follow me?"

"I came to offer advice," Eirene said, walking closer. Her heels clicked softly against the stone. "I imagine all of this must be overwhelming for you, the praise, the attention. It’s easy to get lost in it."

"I can handle it," Aveloria said.

"I’m sure you can," Eirene replied smoothly. "You’ve proven yourself capable. Everyone is so impressed. Especially the king. He speaks of you like you’re the only one who can save us."

Aveloria studied her carefully. "What are you getting at?"

Eirene’s smile tightened. "I’m saying, be careful. Power has a way of changing people. And people have a way of turning against those they once praised."

"I didn’t ask for praise," Aveloria said.

"Maybe not," Eirene said softly, "but you have it now. And once you do, it never comes without cost."

Aveloria looked away toward the gardens. "Is that all?"

Eirene took another step closer. Her voice lowered, calm but firm. "Don’t be too excited that you won this time, dear heart. Even queens can be replaced."

Aveloria turned sharply toward her. "Are you threatening me?"

Eirene smiled, her eyes cold. "It’s not a threat. It’s a promise."

For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint music still echoing from the hall.

Then Eirene straightened her gown and turned to leave. "Enjoy the rest of your night. You deserve it." She said.

Aveloria stood still, watching her walk away. Her hands were clenched at her sides, but she didn’t call out.

She stayed there for several minutes, breathing in the cold air. She could still feel Marek’s anger through their bond and the faint ache it caused in her chest.

Part of her wanted to go back to the hall and confront him. Another part of her wanted to go to the infirmary to check on Galen, to be near someone who didn’t make her question herself.

But she stayed where she was, staring at the garden lights until the sounds from the feast began to fade.

Inside the hall, King Alaric continued to smile and drink with the elders, oblivious to the quiet storm brewing around his daughter.

Marek sat silently in his seat, ignoring the laughter and noise, his eyes fixed on the empty chair where Aveloria had been moments before.

And Eirene, now back inside, poured herself another glass of wine, her expression calm and satisfied.

The feast continued late into the night, but beneath the laughter and the toasts, the air remained tense, filled with jealousy and anger.