The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 456

Chapter 456: Queen Loraina
[Meredith].

The palace loomed ahead like a monument of white stone and centuries-old power. The air was cold, crisp, sharp—almost ceremonial.

When the convoy finally stopped, Jeffery stepped out first, followed by Draven, and then me. Warriors bowed deeply as we passed, but Draven kept my hand in his, warm and grounded.

Inside the grand entrance hall, a woman stood waiting—tall, poised, and dressed in an elegant blue gown that shimmered like starlight.

She was Stormveil’s Queen. Loraina.

My breath caught in my chest. I had never met her before. She hadn’t attended our wedding.

Just then, her gaze moved first to Draven.

“Alpha Draven,” she greeted, her voice calm, composed, regal. “Stormveil welcomes your return.”

Draven bowed his head respectfully. “Your Majesty.”

Then her eyes shifted to me—cold silver. Evaluating. Neutral.

“And you must be Luna Meredith,” she said. Her tone wasn’t warm or cold; it was simply observing.

I bowed slightly. “Your Majesty. It is an honour to finally meet you.”

Her expression didn’t soften, but something in her eyes sharpened—interest? Recognition?

“You carry yourself well,” she said, still measured. “Fitting for the mate of Mystic Fur’s Alpha.”

I inclined my head, accepting the compliment without shrinking under it.

“Come,” the Queen continued, stepping aside. “His Majesty has reserved half an hour. His strength is limited, but he insisted on receiving you.”

She led us down a silent corridor lined with portraits of ancient kings. Draven’s thumb brushed the back of my hand once—a silent reassurance, but I already felt steady.

When we reached the royal chamber, the Queen opened the door herself.

The King sat propped on cushions, looking thinner than I remembered from the wedding, but his eyes—those striking black eyes were alert.

“Alpha Draven,” he said, voice gravelly. “Your Majesty,” Draven bowed.

Then his gaze shifted to me. “Luna Meredith,” he said slowly. “So, I finally meet you properly.”

I stepped forward, keeping my posture straight. “It is an honour to be received, Your Majesty.”

He studied me—quietly, thoroughly, like someone weighing bone and intent.

“You don’t avert your eyes,” he observed. “Good.”

I blinked, unsure if that was praise or a simple remark. But then he smiled—small, thin, but genuine.

“Confidence is difficult to find among Lunas these days,” he said. “It is… refreshing.”

Draven’s chest rose with something like pride beside me.

The Queen remained standing behind the King, hands folded neatly. Still reserved. Still watching.

After a short exchange of pleasantries and an update on the war, the Queen stepped forward.

“Your Majesty,” she said gently, “your time is nearly up. Perhaps now is a good moment for me to escort the Luna to the gardens while you speak privately with Alpha Draven and Beta Jeffery.”

I felt Draven glance at me. I met his calm, steady eyes and nodded.

“I would be honoured to accompany Her Majesty,” I said.

The Queen’s expression didn’t soften, but her chin lifted slightly as if acknowledging something in me.

“Come,” she said.

As we walked toward the tall veranda doors, my maidservants followed at a respectful distance. I could feel Draven’s gaze lingering on me until the doors closed behind us.

Outside, a cold breeze kissed my face. Frost-touched roses lined the path ahead.

Queen Loraina and I continued down the long corridor, our steps echoing quietly.

She didn’t speak straight away—she was studying me, I could sense it, but not in a hostile manner—more like… curiosity cloaked in formality.

Then, her voice cut through the quiet—calm, refined, and impossibly poised.

“Luna,” she said, “you carry yourself differently than the rumours described.”

A slight breeze brushed past my cheek. I blinked, then turned my eyes toward her.

“Rumours?” I repeated gently, as though I had no idea what she meant. “What rumour would that be, Your Majesty?”

Queen Loraina didn’t hesitate. She definitely wasn’t the type to sugar-coat the truth.

“Wolfless,” she began crisply. “Cursed. Weak. A disgrace. A failure with uncontrolled pheromones.”

My steps never faltered, not even once.

I felt my lips lift into a small, relaxed smile. “And what do you see now, Your Majesty?”

She slowed and gave me a sidelong glance.

“While I cannot speak for every rumour,” she said, “you are certainly not weak. That much is clear.”

Warm pride softly bloomed in my chest because I had proven her expectations wrong simply by being myself.

“That’s good to know,” I replied softly.

We continued walking.

Then the Queen paused beside a row of winter-blooming roses. “I also heard,” she said quietly, “about your first fated mate rejecting you publicly at the Lunar Ball.”

My heart didn’t even flinch. Not anymore.

“I see,” I murmured, letting the memory drift past me like fading smoke.

“And it was surprising,” she added, “to learn that a few months later, Alpha Draven became your second-chance mate.”

She stopped walking completely now, turning to face me fully. Her silver eyes narrowed in evaluation and something like wonder.

“You must be precious to the Moon Goddess to be granted such a fate.”

I held her gaze, unflinching.

“I used to believe the Goddess hated me,” I said softly. “But now, whatever path she gives, I choose to walk it with my own feet.”

The Queen’s expression changed. She didn’t smile, not really. But something loosened in her posture—a shift. A recognition.

“I see,” she said quietly. “Now I understand.”

We resumed walking again.

“Just in case you are wondering,” she continued, “I am showing you these corridors so you may become familiar with them for when your mate ascends the throne.”

Then, she paused deliberately. “And when you stand beside him as Queen.”

My steps softened. I didn’t answer immediately.

Title. Crown. Power. Those things mattered far less to me than protecting the people I loved—the people who trusted me.

Still, I chose a neutral response. “I appreciate the gesture, Your Majesty.”

“And how is the King’s health?” I added gently.

Instantly, her expression darkened slightly, like a cloud passing over the sun.

“He is recovering,” she said. “But not quickly.” A slight pause followed, then— “He was poisoned slowly, over time.”

I stopped walking. My heart lurched violently. “Poisoned? By whom?”

“We do not yet know,” she replied. Her voice remained controlled, but her hand tightened over her other wrist. “And we kept the matter quiet. Revealing the truth would cause unrest—and give his enemies boldness.”

I clenched my fist. “Who would dare?” I whispered. “To harm the King…”

“Many would,” she said softly. “Power invites treachery. Always.”

I inhaled slowly, then felt the urge rise within me—the desire to help. To ask if I might examine him. To offer anything I could.

My lips parted, but just then, a sudden pull snapped through my chest, sharp, ancient, commanding, and familiar.

Instantly, I knew it was Valmora holding me back. It felt like she was asking me not to get involved.