[redith].
The dressing room was calm when I stepped inside—quiet in the way that only cos when everyone understands the purpose of the mont.
Azul had already laid my clothes out neatly on the padded bench. No gowns. No silks. No heavy fabrics ant to impress.
Instead, there was a simple, well-fitted pair of soft, dark trousers and a light, long-sleeved shirt in a muted earth tone—clean, practical, and comfortable enough to move in. The kind of clothing I would wear if I expected to walk among people, kneel beside them, and work with my hands.
Exactly what I needed.
Deidra caught my hesitation and smiled. "You chose well, Luna."
"I didn’t want them to feel like they were coming to a palace," I said quietly. "I want them to feel welco."
Kira nodded as she gathered my silver hair. There was no elaborate styling, no braids ant to display status. She pulled it back into a neat ponytail, securing it firmly so it wouldn’t fall into my face while I moved.
"This suits you, Luna," she said. "It looks honest."
That word settled in my chest.
My makeup was minimal—barely more than a touch to even my skin and soften the shadows under my eyes. There were no bold colours or shimr. Just enough colour that I wouldn’t look tired or distant.
As for jewellery, Azul held up a small tray, then paused, watching instead of presenting it.
I shook my head. "Just the ring."
I didn’t need any other piece from that tray. If they were going to listen to today, it wouldn’t be because I dazzled them. It would be because I stood among them as soone who cared.
Still, as the final touches were done and the servants stepped back, a familiar tightness crept into my chest. I stared at my reflection, wondering if the people would recognize .
’What if they don’t co?’ The thought slid in quietly, unwelco but persistent.
What if the benches stay empty? What if the won whisper instead of listening?
What if all they see when they look at is the cursed, wolfless Luna they have already decided I am?
"Luna," Azul said softly, eting my eyes in the mirror. "You look beautiful."
I smiled for her. I really did, but the unease didn’t fade. My fingers curled slightly at my sides.
Just then, we heard the door open behind us, and I felt him before I saw him.
Draven stepped in, dressed simply—plain dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and casual trousers that made him look real and approachable, no Alpha regalia.
His gaze found instantly and softened in understanding. "Give us a mont," he said gently.
My maidservants bowed and slipped out without question, closing the door behind them.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise ever had. Then, Draven crossed the room slowly, stopping behind .
He didn’t touch at first. Just looked at my reflection like he was taking in properly—like he always did when he was thinking sothing important.
"You’re nervous," he said.
I let out a quiet breath. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to ."
That made my throat tighten. Then I looked down at my hands again. "I’ve prepared everything. I’ve planned every detail. The seating, the food, the gifts, the herbs—"
I stopped myself, pressing my lips together. "But none of that guarantees they will show up."
He leaned down then, bracing one hand on the table so his face appeared beside mine in the mirror. "They will."
"You don’t know that."
"I do."
I finally t his eyes. "Draven... what if my reputation follows here? What if they rember only what they think I am?"
His hand ca to rest over mine—warm, steady, anchoring. "Then let them rember," he said quietly. "Because today, they will see who you are now."
I swallowed a gulp.
He straightened, turning gently on the chair until I faced him fully. His hands ca to my cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tension that had been there.
"You are not standing out there to be judged," he said. "You are standing out there to give. To listen. To lead."
Then he rested his forehead against mine. "You didn’t plan this event to prove yourself," he continued. "You planned it because you care. And wolves can sll truth better than fear."
A shaky laugh escaped . "Is that supposed to make feel better?"
"It’s supposed to remind you," he said softly, "that you don’t need their approval."
Then his voice lowered—certain, unwavering. "They will co because you are their Luna. They will stay because you are kind. And they will leave rembering that they were seen."
I let out a breath that was half surrender. "You always know what to say."
"No," he said quietly. "I just know you."
The tension in my chest loosened, just a little. I leaned into him without thinking, arms circling his waist. He held imdiately, solid and unyielding, like the world could fall apart and he would still be there.
"You are not alone in this," he murmured into my hair. "I’m right here. Every step of the way."
Though the anxiety didn’t vanish completely, it loosened enough for to breathe and lift my head, straighten my shoulders, and nod.
"Alright," I said quietly. "Let’s do this."
His lips curved into a proud smile. "That’s my Luna."
Then, as if deliberately shifting the weight of the mont, he glanced toward the door and added, "Now, before you argue with , it’s ti for breakfast."
"I’m not hungry," I said imdiately.
He arched a brow. "That wasn’t a suggestion."
"Draven—"
He took my hand, his fingers warm and firm, and gently tugged up from the bench before I could protest properly.
"You will eat," he said calmly, already guiding toward the door, "even if it’s just a few bites. You’re about to spend hours standing, talking, moving, caring for people. You don’t get to pour from an empty vessel."
I sighed defeatedly, but not unhappily. "You’re really impossible."
"And you are terrible at taking care of yourself now that you are nervous," he replied, squeezing my hand. "Which is why you married ."
I rolled my eyes, but followed him anyway.
"Fine," I conceded. "Sothing small."
He smiled quite victoriously.
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