Chapter 28 #2
For one perfect moment, the ballroom was utterly still. Then the whispers began—rushing through the crowd like the wind through dry leaves, rising and falling in waves of shock and speculation.
Aldric’s face went through a rapid series of transformations. Surprise. Disbelief. A flash of something ugly and quickly suppressed. Finally, his mask of charming composure snapped back into place, though the edges were visibly frayed.
“Your mate.” His voice was flat. “I see.”
“I apologize if my previous silence on the matter caused confusion.” She kept her tone gracious, but her eyes were steel. “I prefer to keep my personal life private. But since you’ve raised the subject so publicly, I felt it only fair to be equally direct.”
Aldric’s gaze moved to Rykan, and this time there was no casual dismissal. He assessed the Vultor with new eyes—taking in the predator’s stillness, the barely-restrained power, the absolute certainty of a male who had claimed his female and would die before surrendering her.
“A Vultor.” Aldric’s smile was fixed, his charm operating on pure reflex. “How… unconventional.”
“I’ve always preferred substance over convention.”
The barb landed. Aldric’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Well.” He straightened his already-perfect jacket, reclaiming what dignity he could. “I wish you both happiness, of course. Though I confess I’m surprised. You always seemed so… traditional in your outlook.”
“People change.”
“Indeed they do.” His blue eyes met hers one final time, and beneath the polished surface she glimpsed something cold and calculating. “Indeed they do.”
He inclined his head in a mockery of courtesy and withdrew into the crowd. The whispers followed him, but she had already dismissed him from her attention.
The crowd surged forward.
“Miss Duvain! Is it true?”
“A mating! How romantic!”
“The Vultor—is he from one of the mountain clans?”
The congratulations came in a flood—some genuine, many forced, all laced with the sharp curiosity of predators scenting blood in the water.
More than one of the women who congratulated her ogled Rykan in a way that made her want to scratch their eyes out, but she kept a gracious smile on her face.
She politely accepted the handshakes and air-kisses and expressions of delight while her mind cataloged every false smile and calculating glance.
Lady Thornton, whose husband had opposed her father’s policies for years, gushed about the romance of interspecies unions.
Lord Castel, who’d been quietly acquiring Duvain stock for months, offered his most sincere wishes for their happiness.
A succession of faces blurred together, each one a potential ally or enemy, each one filing away this new information for future use.
Rykan stood beside her through it all, a silent pillar of strength. He answered questions when directly addressed—brief, polite responses that gave nothing away—but mostly he simply existed at her side, his presence a statement louder than any words.
Mine, his posture said. She is mine, and I am hers, and nothing you do or say will change that.
The crowd pressed closer. The music continued. The glitter and spectacle of the Trade Alliance Ball swirled around them in a dizzying whirl of color and noise.
And then Rykan’s hand closed around her wrist.
“Enough.”
The word was quiet, meant only for her, but it cut through the chaos like a blade. Before she could respond, he was moving—guiding her through the crowd with the easy authority of someone who expected people to get out of his way.
They did.
He led her through a set of glass doors and out onto a terrace overlooking the formal gardens. The night air was cool against her flushed skin, and the sudden quiet was almost shocking after the cacophony of the ballroom.
She drew a deep breath, feeling the tension of the evening begin to uncoil from her shoulders.
The gardens stretched out before them in geometric precision—manicured hedges and carefully cultivated flower beds, all designed to showcase human mastery over nature.
All around them, the lights of Port Cantor glittered like earthbound stars.
“That was…” She searched for the right word. “Intense.”
He released her wrist but didn’t step away. His golden eyes were dark in the moonlight, his expression unreadable.
“You announced me as your mate.”
“I did.”
“In front of everyone. In front of that—” He broke off, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “That male who wanted to claim you.”
“Aldric has wanted to claim me since we were children. Or more accurately, he wanted to claim my company and saw me as the most efficient means to that end.” She turned to face him fully. “I’ve never wanted him. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze searching her face. She could see the conflict playing out behind his eyes—the fear of believing, the longing to accept, the old wounds that whispered he wasn’t worthy of being chosen.
“Ember.” His voice was rough. “That announcement… you can’t take it back. Everyone will know. Everyone will talk.”
“Let them talk.”
“They’ll say you’ve lost your mind. That you’ve been bewitched, or manipulated, or—”
“Rykan.” She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Do you remember what you told me in the mountains? That you would follow me anywhere. That you would stand beside me no matter what came.”
“I remember.”
“Did you mean it?”
His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. “You know I did.”
“Then let me mean it too.” She covered his hand with her own. “I’m not hiding you anymore. I’m not pretending you’re just my guard, or my security chief, or anything other than exactly what you are.” Her voice steadied, gaining strength. “You are my mate. My partner. My other half.”
The words hung between them, as real and solid as the stone beneath their feet.
“I could have let Aldric make his pretty speech. I could have demurred, bought time, and kept my options open. That’s what the old Ember would have done.” She shook her head slowly. “But I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t want options. I don’t want political advantages or strategic alliances.”
Her free hand pressed against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.
“I want you.”
He growled low in his throat and pulled her against him with a possessiveness that made her blood sing.
“You’re sure.” It wasn’t quite a question anymore. “You’re absolutely sure.”
“I chose you on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but survival to consider. I chose you in the warmth of your cabin, in the cold of our training, in every moment since I opened my eyes and saw your face.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I will choose you today and tomorrow, and every day after that. As long as you’ll have me. ”
His forehead touched hers, his breath warm against her lips. “Always.”
She smiled. “Then stop asking if I’m sure.”
He kissed her—deep and fierce and thorough, the kind of kiss that staked a claim and acknowledged one in return.
She melted into it, into him, letting the tension and politics and endless performance of the evening fade away until nothing existed except the two of them and the moonlit garden and the promise of forever.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than the exertion strictly warranted, his expression had transformed. The uncertainty was gone, replaced by something luminous and determined.
“They’ll try to separate us,” he said quietly. “Those people in there. They’ll see our bond as a weakness to exploit, a lever to use against you.”
“I know.”
“I won’t let them.”
“I know that too.” She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “But Rykan—I don’t need you to protect me from them. I need you to stand beside me while I protect myself. While we protect each other.”
His smile was slow and sure and utterly devastating. “Partners.”
“Partners.”
The orchestra struck up a new piece inside—something elegant and triumphant—and the lights of the ballroom spilled gold across the terrace. She glanced back at the glass doors, at the glittering spectacle waiting beyond.
“We should go back in,” she said reluctantly. “There are still conversations to be had. Relationships to manage.”
“There are.” His hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. “But this time, we will go together. As we are.”
“As we are,” she agreed.
They walked back towards the light, hand in hand. The crowd parted as they entered, a hundred pairs of eyes tracking their progress across the ballroom floor. Some gazes were hostile. Some were curious. Some were genuinely warm.
It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.
She had spent her life navigating these treacherous waters alone—watched, judged, and carefully controlled.
Tonight, for the first time, she stood in them as herself.
Not the fragile heiress. Not the political pawn.
Just a woman who had found her strength in the mountains and her heart in the arms of a wolf.
The music swelled. The dancers whirled. The great game of power and influence continued its eternal dance.
And at the center of it all, Ember Duvain walked beside her mate.