Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 118: Court Gala

The court gala began beneath the light of a crimson moon.

My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, draped in silver and deep indigo. The gown was regal but deceptively armored. The fabric shimmered with tiny woven runes, old protections layered into every thread—not divine, but Kieran’s idea of a precaution. My hair was swept up, adorned with crystal pins that once belonged to the last Luna Queen before me. Everything about my appearance was crafted to say one thing: I am still your ruler. Even without my powers, I am not afraid.

But the truth pulsed beneath my ribs like a second heartbeat. I was terrified.

Kieran stood just outside the chamber as I stepped out. His gaze swept over me, the tension in his jaw telling me he was thinking like a soldier, not a man.

"You look—" he began.

"Like I’m about to step into a pit of wolves?" I offered, forcing a faint smile.

His lips twitched. "I was going to say radiant. But yes. That too."

We didn’t speak as we made our way to the grand hall. Words felt dangerous now—every one potentially overheard, misinterpreted, twisted into weakness.

The palace had been rebuilt faster than I imagined possible. Gold and obsidian banners draped the towering archways. Chandeliers made of carved bones and glowing crystals hung low, casting shifting light across the polished marble floor. Servants flitted between the nobles like shadows, bearing silver trays and wine goblets filled to the brim.

The gala had begun.

As we entered, heads turned. Conversations dropped. Nobles and high-ranking wolves stepped aside as I walked through the hall, flanked by Kieran.

It was quiet respect on the surface.

But beneath it all, suspicion simmered. I saw it in the narrowed eyes of Lord Darius, in the way Lady Velyn leaned toward her husband and whispered behind her jeweled hand. They were waiting. Watching. Hungry.

The High Ritualist began the opening rites, raising a ceremonial horn to the moon with practiced reverence.

"On this night, we honor the strength of the wolf. The endurance of our bloodlines. The legacy of the divine."

Legacy. I almost laughed. Mine was crumbling.

The toast passed from hand to hand. Silver horns clinked and rang out like bells of war.

Then came the moment I had anticipated—the moment a dagger would be unsheathed, even if it was wrapped in words.

Lord Darius stepped forward, goblet raised high.

"To Queen Athena," he said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "May the moon always favor her. May her strength never falter... again."

Again.

The word fell like a stone.

I held his gaze, lifting my own goblet in reply. "And may those who mistake silence for weakness learn that the moon watches in shadow as well as light."

There was a pause.

Then a few polite claps. Scattered. Tense.

Darius stepped back into the crowd, satisfied.

Kieran leaned closer. "You want me to throw him in the dungeons?"

"Not yet," I whispered. "Let him feel bold. Let him get sloppy."

The music began, a haunting melody played by bone flutes and silver-stringed lyres. Nobles paired off, spinning slowly across the floor in time with the ancient rhythm. I remained on the dais, seated upon the throne-like chair they’d prepared for me. A symbol of status, yes. But also a target.

Fiona approached from the far side of the room, dressed in a black dress trimmed with wolf teeth. Her face was unreadable.

"He’s testing the waters," she murmured. "A few more like that and they’ll start pushing harder."

"They already are," I said, nodding toward the corner where three lesser nobles whispered in a tight circle. "They’re trying to see if the goddess bleeds."

"Do you?" she asked, her tone unreadable.

I met her gaze. "No."

The gala went on. Dancers blurred into each other. Wine poured endlessly. Laughter rang hollow against the tension strung between every noble’s shoulders.

Then something happened.

A spark. A flare of blue light near the eastern balcony. It flashed and vanished before anyone could fully react. Most barely noticed.

But I had seen that color before.

Wolves trained in illusion magic.

Kieran was at my side in an instant. "Do I move?"

"No," I said. "Let them think I didn’t notice."

Another hour passed, thick with performance. I spoke with nobles. I pretended not to see the way they analyzed every move. I accepted flattery with grace. Lies with silence.

Finally, Lord Darius returned.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low. "Might I request a word?"

Kieran took a step forward, but I waved him off.

"Of course, Lord Darius," I replied. "Let’s speak in the garden."

We walked through the eastern archway into the moonlit courtyard. The garden had been partially restored, though the scars of war were still visible beneath the newly planted flowers.

Darius walked slowly, deliberately.

"You’ve rebuilt well," he said.

"I had help," I replied.

"Indeed." He paused. "But it takes more than stone and blood to rule."

I stopped walking. "Say what you came to say."

"You’ve lost your power," he said bluntly. "The palace whispers it. The wolves feel it. You no longer glow beneath the moon."

A silence bloomed between us.

"I have not lost my purpose," I said. "And if you’re foolish enough to test me, you’ll find I still know how to command a kingdom."

He smiled. "A kingdom ruled by werewolves, Lady Athena. "

"Then perhaps you’ll remember what I was before I was divine. And what I can still become if pushed."

We locked eyes.

"I’ll see you inside," he said softly, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows.

I stood still for a long moment, the wind cold against my bare shoulders.

Then I turned back to the gala.

Inside, Kieran was waiting.

I did not smile. I did not sigh.

I climbed the dais again and lifted my goblet one final time.

"To those who think power must be proven every night," I said. "Let them keep watching. "

This time, when the room applauded, it was louder. noveldrama

Not everyone meant it.

But enough of them did.

Later that night, as the candles dimmed and the nobles filed out one by one, Kieran remained beside me.

"They’ll come harder next time," he said.

"I know."

"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly. "Staying?"

I looked at the stone floor, then at the moon.

"No," I said.

And I would not be undone by fear. Not now. Not ever.