Chapter 5 Chapter 5: I Will Marry Him Again

POV: ADELE

I accept the marriage that once destroyed me because this time, I intend to survive it.

The Great Hall is bathed in the rich glow of a hundred burning torches for the grand alliance feast. Laughter, music, and the heavy clinking of silver chalices echo off the stone walls as the nobility of Silver Crown and the Blackthorn vanguard celebrate the prospective merger. Roasted meats, spiced wines, and fresh bread cover the long tables, but I touch none of it.

I sit beside my father, my posture perfect, my expression serene. Tucked safely inside the hidden pocket of my velvet skirt is the linen wrap containing the crushed Wolfbane I recovered from the garden bench.

Across the raised dais sits Tristan. He looks imposing in his black wool tunic, his dark eyes occasionally shifting toward me with quiet, guarded intensity. Every time our eyes meet, my chest tightens with the phantom memory of my death. Refusing his hand tonight would be simple. I could show the poison to my father, demand an immediate tribunal, and send the Blackthorn delegation packing back to their northern stronghold.

But running would solve nothing.

If I break the alliance now, the conspirators will recede into the dark, striking from avenues I cannot monitor. The only way to expose every snake in this court, and inside Blackthorn, is to step directly onto the board they have prepared for me. I must remain at the center of their trap to break it.

My father rises from his chair, raising a golden goblet to quiet the room. The music fades, and a heavy hush settles over the crowded hall.

"My people, honored guests," King Evander speaks, his deep voice carrying effortless authority. "Tonight, we stand on the precipice of a new era. The Blackthorn Pack has offered its hand in unity, strength, and shared protection. Adele, my daughter... the choice rests with you."

Every gaze in the room locks onto me.

Beside the lower pillars, Lilith stands among the guest nobility, her hands clasped tightly over her lavender gown, her wide eyes watching me with a tense, expectant hunger. She expects me to falter, to hesitate, or to let my clear coldness toward Tristan ruin the moment.

I slowly rise from my seat, my silver gown sweeping smoothly over the dais. I turn to face Tristan, looking directly into the dark, unreadable depths of his eyes.

"Alpha Tristan," I speak, my voice ringing out clear, steady, and loud enough to command every ear in the room. "Silver Crown accepts your proposal. I will join my hand with yours, and together we shall secure the borders of our packs."

A split second of profound silence grips the room before the hall erupts into loud cheers and thunderous applause.

Tristan rises from his chair. To the untrained eye, his face remains a stoic mask, but I catch the subtle, sudden drop of his shoulders, a silent, overwhelming wave of relief passing through him. He steps toward me, bowing deeply over my outstretched hand, his calloused fingers warm against my skin.

"I bind my honor to yours, Princess Adele," Tristan murmurs quietly, his breath warm against my knuckles.

I shift my gaze past his shoulder toward the edge of the hall.

Lilith is staring at us, but there is no celebratory smile on her face. Her cheeks have drained of all color, her lips parted in unadulterated, raw terror. She looks at me not with spite or jealousy, but with an unexpected fear that chills me to the bone. She did not expect me to accept.

By midnight, the feast dies down, and the castle settles into a quiet, shadowed slumber.

Tucking a dark woolen cloak around my shoulders, I slip out of my bedchamber, moving like a ghost through the silent stone corridors. Earlier, I had watched Tristan quietly slip away from the celebration alone, heading toward the forgotten eastern wing of the castle grounds.

I follow the faint scent of dark oak and pine lingering in the crisp night air. Guided by my wolf senses, I navigate the winding, overgrown pathways of the lower gardens, heading toward the abandoned stone conservatory that sits along the old outer wall.

The wooden door of the conservatory hangs loosely off its iron hinges, leaving a narrow crack of pale moonlight spilling onto the neglected flagstones inside.

I press my back against the cold outer wall, holding my breath, stepping lightly into the deep shadows beneath the arched glass windows.

Voices drift out from within the ruined building.

"You shouldn't have come here, Lilith," Tristan's deep voice rumbles, cold and edged with a sharp, dangerous warning. "The court sentries are patrolling the perimeter. If my vanguard sees you meeting me in secret, it will compromise everything."

"I had no choice!" Lilith’s frantic voice echoes softly through the stone room, trembling with desperation. "She accepted, Tristan! You sat before her father and pledged your honor to her! She was supposed to refuse you after the rumors I spread!"

"Adele is the Princess of Silver Crown, and this alliance is necessary for the survival of both our packs," Tristan responds coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I told you before we crossed the border, my decision is final."

Silence stretches between them for a long, suffocating moment, filled only by the distant rustle of the wind through the surrounding pine trees.

Then comes the soft rustle of silk as Lilith steps closer to him, her breath hitching as she reaches out to grab his arm in the dark.

From the darkness, Lilith whispers, “You promised me, Tristan. After you marry Adele, you will make me your Luna.”