The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven - Chapter 457

Chapter 457: Princess Alinthia
[Meredith].

My throat sealed up quickly as the words died. But Queen Loraina continued.

“Luna Meredith,” she said, her tone dropping lower, more meaningful, “a crown has little to do with the head that wears it. It belongs to the one who changes how others see her.”

I studied her profile. Then she added, almost lightly, “If the world calls you weak, let them believe it until the moment it benefits you to prove them wrong. Power grows best in silence.”

A genuine smile tugged at my lips. “I will keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” she said. “Now let us go sit, Luna. We still have time before the King finishes with your mate.”

When we turned a corner, a soft draft entered from an open archway ahead, and light spilt into the hall from a calm veranda framed with tall, sheer curtains.

“That will be more comfortable,” the Queen said with a measured tone.

I nodded, falling into step beside her.

The veranda opened into a shaded sitting area overlooking the palace gardens. There was no grand or excess display, just polished stone, a small table, and the scent of warm tea already waiting for us.

Two maids bowed and stepped back respectfully. The Queen gestured for me to sit first.

“Luna.”

I took the offered seat. She sat across from me with practised ease.

A moment of comfortable quiet passed as she poured the tea herself rather than letting the servants touch it.

The gesture told me more about her than her earlier words.

Next, she lifted her teacup with unhurried grace.

“This is where I often sit when His Majesty rests,” she said. “It is peaceful. And peaceful moments are rare in the palace.”

I nodded lightly and poured some tea for myself before taking a sip.

The tea was mild, sweetened faintly with blossom honey. Its warmth loosened my throat after the long walk.

The Queen sipped quietly, then set her cup down with a soft clink.

“The palace,” she began, tone conversational but carrying weight, “is larger than it looks from the outside. The King and I even keep separate sleeping quarters.”

I blinked, hiding my surprise behind a composed expression.

Separate…?

She caught the flicker in my eyes and smiled faintly.

“It is not uncommon, Luna. Security, health, and politics demand space. The King needs uninterrupted rest. And I…” She exhaled softly. “I need room to manage the things he must never worry about.”

I nodded slowly. “It makes sense.”

“It will matter to you later,” she added meaningfully.

I didn’t ask how. I had a feeling she would explain on her terms. And she did.

“Now,” she said, leaning back, folding her hands in her lap, “we should talk about something else. Someone else.”

Her gaze sharpened in a way that reminded me of Draven—cold clarity wrapped in silk.

“Reginald Fellowes.”

The name alone made the breeze feel colder.

“I should warn you,” she continued calmly, “that man hates you.”

I lifted a brow, amused by her bluntness. “Even though I’m ‘useless and wolfless’?” I asked lightly.

The Queen’s lips curled upward—an approving smile this time. “Especially because of that. A man who wishes to place his own daughter beside the future King does not require a logical reason to hate the woman standing in her place.”

That was fair.

Then, she leaned in slightly. “Wanda’s father is ambitious. And ambitions of his kind often lead men to spy in places they should not.”

“You’re saying—”

“He already has people watching the palace,” she said simply. “He is not alone. Many Alphas do this. Some Elders, too. They want leverage. Secrets. Anything they can use when the next King rises.”

I inhaled slowly. ‘So Draven’s suspicion earlier… wasn’t paranoia. It was an experience.’

“And when you become Queen,” Loraina added, “daggers will turn toward you as well. Some subtle. Some blatant. Do not underestimate them.”

Her warning wasn’t decorative. It was sincere.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” I said quietly.

“You will navigate it well,” she said, lifting her cup again. “Just… do not play the game too early. Not yet. Let them underestimate you. Let them believe the narrative that you are frail and wolfless. It is the safest mask you have right now.”

As she spoke, something pricked faintly at the back of my neck—a presence. Though it wasn’t dangerous, it was sharp. Watching.

My eyes slowly moved purposefully towards the pillars at the edge of the pavilion.

Someone stood there, half-hidden in shadow. She was young and elegant, wearing a fitted gown of soft pearl-white embroidered with gold threads.

But when she realized she had been seen, she stepped forward with a sharp, practised grace.

The Queen sighed quietly. “Oh dear.”

The woman approached with her chin held high and her eyes cold as winter stone.

I didn’t need an introduction. Her aura, her bearing, the faint resemblance to the King—

This was the Princess. And she was glaring at me as if I had personally offended fate.

“Your Majesty,” she said with a stiff bow toward her mother. Then she turned her gaze to me and didn’t bow. Not even a fraction.

“So,” she said, voice cutting through the quiet garden, “this is her.”

Her?

The Queen frowned. “Alinthia—”

But the Princess didn’t stop.

“This is the Luna Alpha Draven chose?” Her eyes raked down my figure. “A girl who can’t even shift? A wolfless woman from Moonstone with just common herb knowledge?”

The Queen’s tone turned stern. “Alinthia, enough.”

But Alinthia laughed. “I won’t pretend just because we have guests.” Then, to me, she said, “You don’t deserve him.”

My teacup paused midway to my lips.

The Princess took a step closer as her expression sharpened with jealousy.

“Alpha Draven is an extraordinary man,” she said tightly. “He is strong, respected and destined to be King. And he married someone like you?”

Silence stretched out for a moment. Then the Queen tried again, firmer. “Alinthia, apologize—”

“No,” the Princess snapped. “It’s embarrassing. She looks calm because she is under his protection. But without him? What is she?”

I placed my cup down gently.

The Princess’s eyes glimmered triumphantly as if she expected me to stammer, flinch, or shrink behind the royal title of the man I was married to.

I slowly stood up from my seat, her smirk twinkling briefly.