The Silvermoon pack-house was alive with celebration—golden lanterns swayed gently from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the crowd. The scent of honeyed pastries and fresh blooms mixed with the ever-present musk of wolves and the Lycan family that host them.
Nyma sat on her throne-like chair, one hand protectively resting on her swollen belly, a forced smile on her lips as she accepted gifts from her pack.
She should have felt joy. Excitement. Something other than this choking sense of unease.
Because among the laughter and well-wishes, her husband—Alpha Prince Adrain—hadn't even properly looked at her or given a compliment, when she had spend days to select perfect dress and arrangements just to make him more happier other than being a father.
Adrain had returned just yesterday after five long months of 'special training,' yet he had barely spared Nyma a glance since stepping foot back into their home.
Instead, Adrain was swallowed whole by his entourage—four women, three men—wolves she didn't recognise, who clung to him like vines to a crumbling wall, their laughter an ever-present hum in the background. They hung on his every word, basked in his presence, as if he were the sun itself.
Nyma sat at the heart of her own celebration, feeling like a stranger in her own life.
It had been only six months since she had married Adrain, and if she were honest with herself, she a few times wondered—if she hadn't found out she was pregnant that night, during her Luna ceremony, would she have accepted his marriage proposal so soon?
Would she have given herself the time to let her mate pursue her properly? To know him beyond the mate bond?
But regret was a cruel thing, and she had made her choice. And for the most part, she had believed he had chosen her too.
After all, Adrain had defended Nyma when his younger brother, Prince Lucian, had accused her of seduction.
She had barely known Adrain then let alone Lucian—barely even looked at him—and yet Lucian had spat accusations at her, jealousy and fury dripping from his every word.
Adrain had stood by her side then. He had chosen their bond, their child, over the legacy he could have had.
But as Nyma sat there now, watching her mate wrapped up in a world that did not seem to include her, a quiet, gnawing sadness coiled in her chest.
And then, as if the night needed one final storm, the Royal Lycan family arrived.
The atmosphere shifted, darkened. The esstemed guests everyone waited finally arrived.A hush fell over the pack-house. Conversations stilled. The weight of power and judgment pressed down on the room like a heavy cloak.
Nyma braced herself. As she graceful stood up and greeted her mother-in-law. Obviously, she had come without the King.
Queen Mother Ivora blessed Nyma, her expression carved from stone. Regal, cold, her sharp gaze flickered over Nyma's form with something between disdain and disappointment.
Behind her, Princess Evelynn followed, draped in all-black, a smirk twisting her lips—more viper than royalty.
And then came Second Prince Lucian.
The air itself seemed to tighten, as if it, too, recoiled from his presence.
Golden eyes locked onto hers, gleaming with something dark. Possession. Bitterness. A claim that had never been his to make.
Nyma refused to look away.
Because that's what he wanted—to see her bend. Break.
The air was thick as every one took their seats and Nyma sat at the center of the grand hall, her pack surrounding her—yet she couldn't shake the chill that came with the arrival of the Royal Lycan family.
As tradition dictated, gifts were to be presented to the expecting Luna, each carrying meaning and well-wishes. But in the hands of the Lycans, even gifts were weapons.
Queen Mother Ivora stepped forward first, her presence regal yet suffocating. A servant behind her carried an ornate silver cradle, carved with ancient Lycan runes.
Nyma stared at it, her fingers instinctively tightening over her belly.
"A gift fit for a child of royal blood," Ivora said smoothly, a tight smile on her lips. "Though a shame it will never rock the future King it was meant for."
The message was clear. A reminder of what Nyma had denied her child—the Lycan throne. But she was sure she would never regret it cause unlike them, she can't accept to have more than one mate. She would rather have an Alpha family than a Alpha King husband who would bond with other she-wolves whenever demanded and made her do the same if necessary.
Nyma lifted her chin. " Thank you, Queen Mother! Your present is indeed precious- A cradle. But it is only as good as the love surrounding it, not the throne beneath it."
Ivora's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing as she stepped aside.
Next came Princess Evelynn. With the grace of a predator in silk, she presented a golden dagger, its hilt encrusted with blood-red rubies.
"For the Luna mother," Evelynn purred, running a finger along the blade. "May she always be strong enough to defend herself… since her choices have left her with no one else to do it for her."
A flicker of laughter from the court. A subtle insult dressed as wisdom.
Nyma took the blade in her hands, letting its weight settle in her palm. She met Evelynn's gaze, lips curving. "I never needed anyone else to defend me, dear sister. But thank you for the reminder."
Evelynn's smirk faltered.
And then, stepping forward last, was Second Prince Lucian.
A servant handed him a long, slender box. With deliberate slowness, he opened it—revealing a delicate silver chain with two interlocked rings.
Nyma's stomach twisted.
"The rings of a second bond," Lucian murmured, his voice a low purr meant for her ears alone. "Lycans wear them when they accept a mate beyond their first. You can wear it next when you come before me,"
Nyma's blood ran cold. Did he just implied again to accept his offer.
"A shame you never learned our ways," he continued, tilting his head. "You could have had more than just Adrain. You could have had… me. It's fun!"
The room was silent, watching. Waiting.
Nyma's heart thundered, but her hands remained steady as she picked up the chain—and snapped it in two.
The sound echoed through the hall.
"Opps, my apologies! Seems chain bonds wasn't strong enough to handle pressure." She let the broken metal pieces fall to the floor at Lucian's feet.
Her silver eyes burned. "I don't need another mate, Lucian. And I will never be of another."
The tension in the room was suffocating.
Then, from the side, Soren, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands. "Well, that was awkward. Who's ready for cake?"
Laughter rippled through the pack, breaking the ice. But Nyma knew—this was only the beginning.