Estelle’s POV

The whispers grew louder and louder around us. I could hear fragments of conversations from every direction.

“She’s done for now.”

“The King will be furious.”

“Poor thing doesn’t know what’s coming.”

I remained perfectly still, my wine glass steady in my hand. The anticipation in the room was palpable. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable confrontation.

Rosalind’s smile widened with each whisper. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up smugly. “Do you hear that? Everyone knows what’s about to happen to you.”

“I hear it,” I replied calmly. “Quite the audience we’ve gathered.”

Caleb shifted nervously beside me. His jaw was clenched tight with barely controlled anger. “Luna, maybe we should—”

“We should what?” Rosalind interrupted. “Run away? Hide? Yes, that would be the smart choice for someone like her.”

I took another sip of wine. “Actually, this is a dinner for werewolf representatives. We are all guests. You, however, are being discourteous.”

Rosalind’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Discourteous?”

“This dinner was for werewolf representatives only,” I continued, my voice carrying clearly through the now-quiet room. “The lycans are supposed to join tomorrow on the official day of the event.”

Several werewolves nodded in agreement. I heard murmurs of “she’s right” and “that’s what we were told.”

Rosalind’s face turned red. “I don’t care what the schedule says. I go where I please.”

“Clearly,” I said dryly.

She was about to fire back with another retort when the double doors at the far end of the dining room opened with a soft thud.

The entire room fell silent.

Zayne entered with smooth, measured steps. His silver hair caught the light from the chandeliers. Those striking electric blue eyes swept across the room, taking in the scene before him.

Rosalind’s entire demeanor changed instantly. Her angry scowl melted into a bright, adoring smile. She smoothed down her dress and adjusted her posture.

“Zayne!” she called out sweetly. “Perfect timing.”

She cast me a dirty, gloating glare. Her eyes practically sparkled with malicious anticipation. I could see her mentally preparing her sob story about how the mean werewolf had bullied her.

Zayne’s expression remained completely neutral as he approached our section of the table. His voice was cool and detached when he spoke.

“What is this all about?”

Rosalind immediately launched into victim mode. “Oh, Zayne, I’m so glad you’re here. This werewolf,” she gestured dramatically at me, “has been incredibly rude to me. She stole my seat and then had the audacity to insult me when I politely asked her to move.”

I almost laughed at her version of events. Politely asked. Right.

“She’s been so hostile,” Rosalind continued, placing a delicate hand over her heart. “And her Beta was threatening me, too. I was just trying to take my rightful place beside you.”

Zayne’s eyes moved from Rosalind to me, then to Caleb, and finally surveyed the watching crowd. His expression gave nothing away.

“Everyone, sit down,” he said simply.

The command in his voice was unmistakable. Werewolves throughout the room immediately returned to their seats. The scraping of chairs filled the momentary silence.

I sat back down next to Caleb without hesitation. Rosalind remained standing, clearly expecting Zayne to escort her to what she considered her proper seat.

Instead, Zayne walked past her to his own chair at the head of the table. He pulled it out and sat down with fluid grace.

Rosalind’s smile faltered slightly. “Zayne? My seat?”

He didn’t even glance in her direction. His voice remained perfectly level. “There is an empty seat at the end of the table.”

Rosalind’s confusion was evident. “But that’s where she was supposed to sit.” She pointed at me accusingly.

Zayne finally turned to look at her directly. Those electric blue eyes were completely cold. “How do you know that?”

The question hung in the air like a blade. Rosalind blinked rapidly, clearly not expecting to be questioned.

“I... well... because...” she stammered.

“The Blackmoon Pack has always sat with the Lycan King,” Zayne stated matter-of-factly.

The whole room went completely quiet. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

I felt a flutter of surprise in my chest. He was defending my position. Publicly. Without making it seem personal or inappropriate.

Rosalind’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “But I thought... the council said—”

“There is no reason for Estelle to be separated from her Beta,” Zayne continued, his tone remaining neutral but final.

The message was crystal clear to everyone in the room. The Lycan King supported my seating arrangement and, by extension, rejected Rosalind’s claims.

Rosalind’s face cycled through several emotions. Confusion, anger, humiliation, and finally fury. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Fine,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

She spun on her heel and marched toward the end of the table where my original seat had been. Her heels clicked aggressively against the marble floor. The silk of her dress rustled with each sharp movement.

When she reached the chair, she yanked it out so forcefully that it scraped loudly against the floor. She practically threw herself into the seat, her posture rigid with barely contained rage.

I kept my expression completely neutral, but inside I felt a warm satisfaction. Zayne had stood up for me without being too obvious about it. He’d done it cleverly, using protocol and tradition as his reasoning rather than personal preference.

Our eyes met across the table. His gaze lingered on mine for just a moment longer than necessary. There was something in his eyes that made my pulse quicken slightly.

Neither of us spoke. Our expressions remained carefully controlled. But there was an understanding that passed between us in that brief moment.

He had my back, and I was grateful for it.

The servers began bringing out the first course, breaking the tension that had settled over the room. The clatter of dishes and gentle conversation slowly resumed as guests tried to restore the earlier atmosphere.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Zayne announced, raising his wine glass. “To our guests from the various packs. Thank you for joining us this evening.”

Everyone raised their glasses in response. “To the Lycan King,” several voices replied.

I lifted my glass along with the others, catching Zayne’s eye briefly as I did so. His expression remained impassive, but I thought I detected the faintest hint of something warmer in his gaze.

The dinner proceeded smoothly after that. Conversations resumed at various tables. The Alpha who had stood up earlier caught my eye and nodded respectfully. Several other werewolves smiled at me with what looked like approval.

Caleb leaned closer to me. “That was impressive,” he murmured quietly. “Both your handling of the situation and his response.”

I nodded slightly but didn’t respond. I was too busy processing what had just happened.

Throughout the meal, I found myself stealing glances at Zayne. He maintained conversations with various guests, his manner polite but distant. He was every inch the composed leader.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d defended me. He’d shut down Rosalind so completely without losing his temper or appearing emotional about it.

Maybe I had been too quick to vent my frustrations about the rooming situation onto him. I was only thankful that I had deleted it quickly enough. It wouldn’t have been nice if he had seen it.