Chapter 35 Riley #2
The crown that settled on his head was gold, set with amber stones that matched his wolf’s eyes. I could see the weight of it in the set of his shoulders. But he bore it with grace.
He’d been preparing for this his whole life.
Then it was my turn.
I kneeled before the Queen, Elspeth, my mother-in-law, who looked at me with nothing but warmth and acceptance. No pressure or anything. Just becoming queen of an entire werewolf kingdom. Totally normal Tuesday.
The crown that descended onto my head was silver, set with moonstones that glowed faintly in the candlelight.
It was lighter than I’d expected.
Or maybe I was stronger than I’d thought.
“Rise,” Elspeth said softly, “Queen Riley of Duskmere.”
I rose, and Caelan took my hand. Together, we turned to face our people.
The room exploded.
Cheers, howls, stamping feet. Wolves shifted and bayed at the ceiling. Children shrieked with delight. Someone threw flower petals into the air, and they rained down around us like fragrant confetti.
“Long live the King and Queen!”
I looked out at the crowd, at the faces I knew and the ones I didn’t, at the friends who’d crossed realms to be here and the family I was gaining today, and felt peace settle in my chest.
This was a world worth fighting for. A world of magic and danger, yes, but also of love and loyalty and second chances. A world where portals connected realms and mates found each other against impossible odds.
I wanted to bring my child into this world. I was going to help make it safe, one stubborn decision at a time.
Starting with surviving this party.
***
Music filled the great hall, a blend of Lytopian instruments and, hilariously, a human DJ that Sloane had insisted on bringing.
The combination shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did.
Wolves attempted to dance to electronica with varying degrees of success.
A duchess who’d looked impossibly dignified all day was now attempting the electric slide.
One of the kings, I wasn’t sure which one, was doing the robot while his queen filmed him on her phone.
It was chaos. It was perfect.
I danced until my feet ached and then kept dancing anyway.
I danced with Caelan, obviously, our first dance as husband and wife, as King and Queen, pressed close together while the crowd watched with misty eyes.
I danced with my friends, spinning and laughing until I was dizzy.
I danced with Patt, who turned out to be surprisingly graceful for someone his size.
I even danced with Malachar, who moved with all the natural rhythm of a statue and was clearly only doing it because Wen had made him.
“You’re supposed to move your feet,” I told him.
“I am moving my feet.”
“More than once per minute.”
He glared at me. I grinned back. We’d reached an understanding, Mal and I, mutual annoyance wrapped in grudging respect. I’d take it.
The night unfolded in a blur of food and wine and laughter. Toasts were raised until I lost count, each one more heartfelt than the last.
Thessa’s speech made everyone cry. She talked about her brother, about watching him fall in love, about how she’d known from the first moment she saw us together that I was the one for him.
Her voice cracked when she talked about gaining a sister, and by the end, even the stoic wolf nobles were dabbing at their eyes. I was a mess. Caelan was worse.
Patt’s speech, thank the goddess, made everyone laugh instead.
It was mostly embarrassing stories about Caelan’s childhood, including one involving a pond, a dare, and a very angry goose that had apparently chased young Prince Caelan halfway across the castle grounds while he screamed for his mother.
By the end, Caelan was hiding his face in his hands while the guests howled with laughter, and I was mentally filing away every detail for future teasing purposes.
“I’m never living that down, am I?” Caelan muttered.
“Absolutely not. That goose is my new hero.”
Sloane gave a speech that included several creative threats about what she’d do if Caelan ever hurt me.
“I have werewolf friends now,” Sloane announced, slightly drunk, pointing at Thessa. “I can and will use them.”
“She would,” Thessa confirmed.
The night wore on.
I found myself on the dance floor again, swaying in Caelan’s arms. The music had slowed, the crowd had thinned, and the wild energy had mellowed into warmth.
“Happy?” he murmured against my hair.
“Mm.” I nestled closer. “Very.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I pulled back to look at him, my husband, my king, my mate. The crown sat on his head perfectly. Which, I supposed, made sense. It had been made for him. “I’m happy, Caelan. Really, truly happy.”
His smile was soft. “I still have more groveling to do.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. Years of it, probably.”
“And how exactly are you planning to grovel?”
His eyes darkened with promise. His hands tightened on my waist. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear.
“I was thinking,” he said, voice dropping low, “of spending the rest of the night on my knees.”
My stomach flipped.
Heat pooled low in my belly. Suddenly the crowd, the music, the celebration, all of it faded to background noise. All I could see was him. All I could think about was that promise.
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hm.” His thumb traced circles on my hip. “If you’re interested.”
“I might be interested.”
“Just might be?”
I grabbed his face and kissed him, thorough, decisive, a kiss that left no doubt about exactly how interested I was.
When I pulled back, his eyes were molten gold.
“Celebration be damned,” he growled.
He swept me into his arms, literally swept, bridal-style, exactly like the heroes in my books, and strode toward the exit. The man had zero shame. I respected that.
“Where are you going?!” someone shouted. Patt, probably.
“To bed!” Caelan shouted back, not slowing down.
Laughter and wolf-whistles followed us out.
I clung to his neck, giggling, as he carried me through the castle corridors. Servants pressed against walls to let us pass, hiding smiles. Guards looked studiously elsewhere. We were absolutely not subtle. I didn’t care.
We reached the royal chambers, and he kicked the door shut behind us with his foot, already crossing to the massive bed in the center of the room.
He tossed me onto the mattress.
I yelped, bouncing once on the mountain of pillows, and then he was crawling over me, caging me in with his arms, looking down at me with those burning golden eyes.
“I love you,” he said. “My wife. My queen. My mate.”
“I love you too.” I pulled him down to me. “Now stop talking.”
He grinned against my lips.
We didn’t leave the royal chambers for a week.
THE END