Hailee’s POV
As the maids moved gracefully around the room, preparing the dresses, I stood before the tall mirror. They helped into the silver gown that shimred faintly under the golden light of the candles. The fabric was smooth and soft against my skin, the neckline modest yet elegant, and the skirt flowed like water when I moved. My mother fastened the moon-shaped pendant around my neck, the sa one from my childhood box.
"You look perfect," she whispered, her eyes glistening. "Just like the daughter of a king."
I smiled faintly, trying not to let my nerves show. "Perfectly terrified, maybe."
She chuckled softly and kissed my forehead. "You’ll be fine. Peter will be there."
When I finally stepped into the hallway, two guards bowed and opened the grand double doors leading to the ballroom. The mont I entered, the sound of music softened, and hundreds of eyes turned toward .
The chandeliers glowed above, casting light over the marble floor and golden walls. The guests—Alphas, nobles, and high-ranking council mbers—turned one by one, whispering as I walked down the long staircase.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears.
And then I saw Peter, standing tall near the dais, dressed in dark royal attire with silver embroidery that marked him as king. His expression softened the mont our eyes t. He raised a hand, signaling the music to fade.
"Ladies and gentlen," he began, his voice rich and calm, filling the room. "Tonight, we celebrate the return of soone precious to this kingdom. Soone who has endured more than most, yet stands before you stronger than ever."
He gestured toward , pride shining in his eyes. "My sister, Princess Hailee Stones. Welco her ho."
Applause filled the hall, so genuine, others hesitant. But it didn’t matter. I held my head high, forcing a calm smile as Peter offered his hand and helped down the final step.
"You look radiant," he murmured. "Just breathe."
I nodded slightly. "Easier said than done."
He smiled. "Co, et so of our allies."
He guided through the crowd, introducing to nobles and Alphas. So offered polite bows, others awkward smiles. Complints floated through the air like drifting petals.
"You’re even more beautiful than the rumors said."
"It’s an honor to et the king’s sister."
Each word felt like both balm and blade—kind on the surface but shadowed by old whispers I could almost hear beneath them.
Then, as I turned toward another greeting, a young man stepped forward from the group near the back. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp blue eyes that seed to pierce through the noise. His hair was a shade darker than gold, neatly styled, and when he smiled, it carried confidence—the kind that ca from both charm and power.
He reached for my hand before I could speak. His touch was firm yet careful as he lifted my hand and brushed a soft kiss against it. The contact sent a faint shiver up my arm.
"Nice eting you," he said, his voice deep and smooth, laced with sothing unreadable.
I blinked, caught off guard by both his boldness and the intensity of his gaze. "It’s... nice eting you too," I managed to say.
Peter stepped closer with a knowing half-smile. "Hailee," he said, his tone steady but faintly cautious, "allow to introduce Lord Rylan."
The young man straightened slightly, eyes still fixed on .
Peter’s smile faded into sothing unreadable as he added, "He’s the younger brother of Robert, the forr King of the Northern Lycans."
The air around seed to still. I felt the blood drain from my face, though I managed to keep my posture calm. But Rylan only smiled, his expression unreadable.
"You’ve heard of him, then," he said lightly, though his eyes held a flicker of sothing deeper—curiosity or regret.
Peter’s hand brushed my arm in quiet reassurance. "Rylan isn’t like his brother," he said quietly. "He’s been one of our strongest allies since the North’s power shifted."
I nodded slowly, forcing a polite smile. "Then I’m honored," I said softly, though my heart was still pounding.
Rylan inclined his head slightly. "The honor is mine, Princess."
Peter moved to greet another guest, leaving us for a brief mont. The music rose again, the crowd returning to laughter and chatter.
Rylan’s gaze stayed on . "You don’t seem as terrifying as the stories claim," he said, his tone calm but edged with quiet humor.
I raised a brow, eting his gaze steadily. "That depends on which story you’ve heard."
He smiled faintly, his eyes glinting. "That you are the special one... the one who can take down hundreds of wolves with her ability.
I looked away, trying to mask the flicker of emotion in my chest. "Stories have a way of sounding different from the truth."
He tilted his head. "I understand. I heard what happened."
I didn’t know what to say to that. His words hung in the air, strange and unexpected, like warmth in a room still half frozen.
Before I could respond, Peter returned, his hand lightly touching my shoulder. "Hailee, co, there are more people to et."
I nodded, forcing another smile. "Of course."
As we walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back. Rylan was still watching —not with malice, but with a look that made my heart beat just a little faster. Not because I was attracted to him, but because in his eyes he had that look that said, I want you, and I will get you no matter what.
After greeting a few more guests, I decided to slip away for a mont. The noise, the lights, the endless stares—it all felt too much. My chest ached with the effort of smiling.
I searched the hall, looking for my sons. I spotted Mother near one of the tables, talking to a guest. Beside her stood Oliver and Oscar, nibbling on sweets and chatting softly with her.
I frowned slightly. "Where’s Ozzy?"
Mother turned to . "He said he was going to get a candy from the other table. He’ll be right back, dear."
A small pang of worry rose in my chest. "I’ll check on him."
The ballroom was crowded, but I scanned the faces, weaving between nobles and guards. The sll of wine and perfu filled the air. I finally spotted a small figure near the refreshnt table—Ozzy.
But my relief vanished the mont I saw what was happening.
A young woman, tall and dressed in a deep red gown, was bending over him, her fingers gripping his chin tightly. Her eyes were sharp, cruel, and she was hissing sothing under her breath.
"Ozzy," I called, my voice cutting through the noise.
His big eyes turned to , filled with fear.
Without thinking, I strode forward and pushed the woman’s hand away. "Don’t touch my son," I said sharply.
The woman straightened, her expression twisting with arrogance. "Your son?" she sneered, looking up and down. "Oh, so you must be the mother of this little thing who stepped on my dress."
Ozzy’s voice trembled as he said, "I said sorry, but she hit ."
The words hit like fire. I turned to him, saw the faint redness on his cheek, and before I could stop myself, my hand moved.
Slap!
The sound echoed louder than I expected. The woman’s head snapped to the side. A few guests nearby gasped, turning toward us.
She stared at in shock, then anger. "How dare you?" she hissed. "Do you know who I am?"
My voice was calm but deadly. "A grown woman who thought it was right to hit a child?"
Her face flushed with rage. "You have no idea who you’re speaking to."
I took a step closer, eyes burning. "And you have no idea who you just touched."
Murmurs began to spread through the crowd. People were whispering, pointing.
The woman’s lip trembled, though I could see the fake tears already forming in her eyes. She glared at , then turned and hurried across the ballroom—straight toward Peter.
I stood still, breathing hard, as she threw herself dramatically into his arms. "Dear!" she cried loudly, her voice full of sobs. "She... she slapped !"
The music stopped. The entire room fell silent. Every head turned toward us, toward .
"She hit !" she wailed again. "In front of everyone! I was only trying to help her child, and she—she slapped !"
I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling quickly, but I controlled myself from attacking her.
"That’s a lie," I said sharply. "You hit my son first."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Peter’s expression shifted imdiately. His confused expression was replaced by anger. Real, sharp anger. He pulled slightly away from her grasp.
"What?" he asked, his tone filled with anger.
"She struck my child," I repeated, my voice trembling with emotion but loud enough for everyone to hear. "He’s just a boy. He said sorry for stepping on her dress, and she hit him across the face."
Whispers erupted again through the hall. I could see shock on the guests’ faces—so frowning at , others at her.
Peter’s brows furrowed deeply. He turned to the woman, his hand gripping her wrist tightly enough to make her flinch. "Is that true?" he demanded.
She gasped dramatically, still trying to play her part. "Of course not! I would never—"
But before she could finish, Peter pushed her back, clearly not believing her act. "Do you even know who you just touched?"
The woman blinked in confusion, her fake sobs dying instantly. "What?" she stamred, looking from him to , completely thrown off.
Peter’s expression darkened. "That’s my sister, Princess Hailee Stones, and her son."
Her face went pale. "S–sister?" she whispered, her mouth hanging open.
"Yes," Peter said sharply, his voice echoing through the hall. "If you had arrived earlier, I could’ve introduced you two properly."
He took a step closer, his glare fixed on her. "But it seems you’ve already made quite an impression on her yourself."
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