The silence that followed Elizabeth's words was not respectful. It was tense. The kind of pause in which everyone senses that something irreversible has just occurred, yet no one can fully grasp what it is.
Dandara paled.
Not the soft white she usually wore to appear fragile, but a sickly, greenish hue that betrayed the mistake before any judgment was spoken. Her fingers clenched the silver fabric, as though only now she understood the symbolic weight of what she wore. Silver was not merely the wrong shade. It was a direct challenge to the Moon.
Theodor stepped forward.
The movement was far too instinctive to go unnoticed.
— Elizabeth… — he began, his voice firm, trained to calm assemblies and contain armed conflict.
Elder Zarius struck her staff against the floor, interrupting him with a sharp crack.
— No. — she said. — The Alpha will explain himself later. First, we wish to hear the omega.
Dandara swallowed hard. Her eyes searched for Theodor, as though asking permission to breathe.
Mistake number two.
— I… — her voice came out low, trembling, far too rehearsed for someone claiming surprise. — I had no intention of offending the Luna or the Moon Goddess. I was weak. Very weak. The herbs that were sent to me… — she hesitated, and that alone was enough for the priest to narrow his eyes. — They left me confused. When I saw the dress, I thought it was a gift.
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Elizabeth did not react. She did not blink. She did not tilt her head. She merely observed, like someone watching an animal dig its own grave with impressive delicacy.
— A gift. — the priest repeated, venom carefully restrained. — Lunar fabrics are not given. They are bestowed. And only upon the one whose body has been marked by the Goddess.
Theodor inhaled deeply, clearly unsettled.
— The fault is mine. — he declared at last. — Dandara does not understand the rites as she should. She was raised under my protection. If there was failure, it rests with me.
The words fell like a stone into shallow water.
Elizabeth slowly lifted her gaze.
There was no anger there. Something worse lived in its place. Assessment.
— Interesting. — she said, with almost gentle softness. — So the Alpha admits he allowed an omega to be adorned as Luna… out of ignorance.
The Council shifted uneasily.
— Ignorance is a dangerous word, Daughter of the Moon. — warned one of the elders.
— I agree. — Elizabeth replied, never taking her eyes off Theodor. — Especially when it is used to justify acts that demand ritual punishment.
Safira, her wolf, stirred beneath her skin, releasing an invisible pressure that forced two younger council wolves to lower their heads, instinctively suffocated.
Elizabeth stood.
The scrape of the white oak chair against the floor echoed like a warning.
— I did not ask for lashes. — she said, walking slowly to the center of the hall. — I did not invoke ritual punishment. I did not summon my father. Not yet.
She stopped before Dandara.
Up close, the contrast between them was cruelly undeniable. The false fragility of the blonde she-wolf trembled. Elizabeth's lunar presence crushed.
— But I will not allow my name, my body, or my symbol to be treated as disposable ornament. — her voice dropped a register. — You wished to be seen. You succeeded. Now you will be remembered.
She turned to the Council.
— I propose something simple. — she said. — The dress will be removed here. Not destroyed. Returned to the seamstresses of the Lunar Mountain for purification. Dandara will leave the hall wearing what belongs to her. No physical humiliation. Only symbolic truth.
The priest nodded slowly. Elder Zarius leaned on her staff, satisfied.
All eyes turned to Theodor.
That was where he would choose.
Not between two women.
But between seeing…
or remaining conveniently blind.
And the Moon, patient as ever, watched.
Elizabeth exhaled, running a hand over her forehead as she tried to calm Safira, who was clawing at the walls of her mind, desperate to break free and attack Dandara.
— Easy, Safira. You are a Daughter of the Moon.
Safira laughed, humorless.
— Easy? He does not deserve us. He hurt you.
Her aura intensified, heavy with pheromones, as Elizabeth returned to her seat. The stardust gown shimmered with every step she took.
— I usually say nothing.
She began calmly, her voice carrying Safira's poisoned edge.
— But if that leads the Council to believe I am submissive and blind, I suggest you seek another Luna. My silence is a matter of observation and respect. To be respected, one does not require rare dialects or elaborate speeches. On the contrary, those who speak too much do little and err often.
She rested her hand on the arm of the chair, her chin settling into the palm adorned with lunar crystal jewelry.
— Do not mistake my silence for weakness. Do not think that because I love your Alpha, I, a lycan of blood, will allow myself mediocre actions. Before you look at me and see in my silence a pretty face that lowers its head, see instead the blood of Lycan Samael, king of a nation that does not ask permission when dishonored.
She finished, her voice sharp, leaving no room for desperate attempts at control.
Only then did Safira calm.
— Your foolish wolf.
Safira snarled through the telepathic bond shared by Theodor and Elizabeth.
— How dare you offend me, your Luna, for an omega not worth Liz's heels?
The white wolf growled in pure fury.
Elizabeth almost laughed at her wolf's possessiveness.