The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 419

Chapter 419: Alpha of Few Words
[Meredith].

I straightened my posture, trying to keep my expression calm. Still, the words stung because they were true, even though they were not new.

The Council of Elders, the other Alphas, even the families that made up the core of Stormveil’s power—they had never approved of me.

To them, I was the cursed daughter from the Moonstone Pack. The wolfless disgrace who brought dishonour and weakness wherever she went.

And although I was no longer the fragile girl they remembered, the truth was, their opinions still mattered, not to my pride, but to my future and the milestone I am meant to achieve.

I wanted to be recognized, but for the right reasons. I don’t want it to be because they feared Draven’s authority or because they pitied me. I want it to be because I have earned my place here.

Yet, Valmora’s voice still lingered in the back of my mind—her warning like a cold breath against my thoughts.

She had told me to hide my strength, especially the fact that she was my wolf, because of my enemies.

I couldn’t afford to ignore that.

So, even though I was no longer the woman everyone thought I was—weak, broken, powerless—I had to continue the act. To let them believe I was still that woman for a while longer.

Being the most hated woman in my race didn’t mean they would start loving me if they discovered the truth. That I had a wolf—a powerful ancient one. That I had trained, fought, and killed on the battlefield beside Draven himself.

Then, I glanced briefly at Draven, who met Oscar’s gaze with calm defiance.

“If they have something to say about my mate,” he said, his tone quiet but absolute, “they can say it to me.”

Oscar studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “I thought you would say that.”

“How long is this welcome banquet supposed to last?” Draven inquired, his voice low but edged with something that made Oscar glance up from his wine.

“At least four hours,” Oscar replied after a brief pause, almost cautiously.

My head tilted before I could stop myself. ‘Four hours?’ For a simple welcome? I didn’t need to ask why when there would be endless toasts, long speeches, and political circling disguised as celebration.

But still… four hours?

I turned just in time to catch the slight twist of Draven’s face—his brows pulling together, his mouth tightening in visible irritation.

“I don’t have that kind of time to waste,” he said flatly.

Immediately, the table erupted in laughter. Even Jeffery smiled, shaking his head, Dennis nearly choked on his drink, trying not to laugh too loud, while Oscar just smiled.

I bit down on my lower lip to stop the sound rising in my throat, but it was useless. A quiet chuckle escaped anyway.

Something about the deadpan look on Draven’s face—so genuinely unimpressed—made it impossible not to laugh.

Dennis leaned forward, grinning at Oscar. “You see what I’ve been saying? You’ve got to warn the Council that the ‘Alpha of Few Words’ has returned. You will save them all from heartbreak when he starts walking out before dessert.”

Jeffery leaned back in his seat, a grin tugging at his mouth. “It’s been a long while since the Alpha attended one of these events,” he said, tilting his head toward Draven. “He is not used to it.”

Dennis agreed with a nod.

Oscar’s expression shifted. The humour remained on his lips, but his eyes grew more thoughtful.

Then, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice dropping to something quieter.

“Jokes aside, I just want to remind you about something.”

The air shifted again, the warmth from moments ago thinning into stillness.

Draven’s posture changed subtly—shoulders straightening, attention sharpening in an instant.

When Oscar spoke again, his tone was measured, but it carried weight. “The Elders have come with… concerns. About Duskmoor. About the aftermath of the war.”

Dennis’s easy smile faded. Jeffery’s eyes flicked between them, his usual calm hardening.

Draven didn’t say a word, but his jaw tensed, the muscle along it flexing.

Oscar continued, “The Council is worried the humans may retaliate in the future if they weren’t finished off completely.”

My hands froze around my cup, the porcelain suddenly too warm.

Retaliate?

Oscar’s gaze shifted to Draven again. “They will expect you to account for everything that happened in Duskmoor—and how much control you still have over the situation.”

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Then Draven finally spoke, his voice low, steady, and unyielding. “I am well aware of their plans. So, I will give them what they need to know. Nothing more.”

Oscar studied him quietly, as though searching for something in that calm. Then he nodded once.

The next moment, Draven exhaled softly, pushing back his chair. “That’s enough talk for one morning,” he said. “I’m going to get some sleep before the banquet.”

As soon as he stood, the others rose automatically.

Draven glanced toward me then, his hand extending in quiet invitation.

I placed my fingers in his without hesitation, and he closed his hand gently around mine before leading me toward the door.

The corridor outside was cooler and quieter. Our footsteps echoed softly across the marble floor as we made our way back toward the private wing.

But as we turned down the next hall, my thoughts wandered back to a smaller, gentler face.

“Can I check on Xamira now?” I asked, glancing sideways at him.

Draven didn’t stop walking. “No,” he said simply.

I blinked, a little taken aback. “Why not?”

“If she sees you now,” he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, “she won’t want to let you go. And then you won’t get any rest in the end.”

I sighed softly, knowing he was right. In the end, I conceded the point as we reached the door to our room.