91: Emma

His eyes widened fractionally at my interruption. I could smell his mounting frustration – a sharp note cutting through his expensive cologne. Behind him, I caught sight of several werewolves watching our exchange, their expressions carefully guarded but their scents betraying their interest and hope.

"My Queen," he began again, his voice dropping to ensure only those nearby could hear, "these renovations have been planned for months. The budget allocations were practically guaranteed under the previous arrangement."

"Previous arrangement," I repeated softly. "You mean before there was a Queen who understood what it meant to be a werewolf?"

I sensed Theo before I saw him, his familiar presence materializing at my shoulder like a shadow becoming solid. He didn't speak, didn't touch me – just stood there, a silent statement of support that warmed me while allowing me to fight my own battle.

Minister Volkov's eyes darted to Theo, a flicker of hope in them that made my blood simmer. The idea that he expected Theo to override me, to side with him simply because they were both Lycans, was as insulting as it was predictable.

"Your Majesty," Volkov appealed again, his gaze sliding to Theo and then beyond him, to where other Lycans had gathered at the edges of our conversation. "I understand your concern, but this is the way it's always been done. There are protocols, historical precedents—"

"And that is going to change, Minister Volkov." My voice remained steady even as conviction burned through me like wildfire. "You cannot prioritize a vanity project when citizens of the Kingdom are suffering and dying simply because their animals run on four legs and yours runs on two."

A collective intake of breath rippled through our growing audience. I had named the prejudice directly, stripping away the veneer of bureaucratic language that had disguised it for generations.

"I hardly think it's fair to characterize necessary medical upgrades as 'vanity'—" he began, his composure slipping.

"You need to re-evaluate your priorities and attitude, Minister," I interrupted, stepping closer to him, close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. "Or you'll be finding yourself unemployed."

The silence that followed felt electric. Minister Volkov stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, his scent sour with shock and anger. Behind him, the werewolves in attendance were doing a poor job of hiding their elation – small smiles playing at the corners of mouths, eyes bright with vindication. Even some of the Lycans looked thoughtful rather than offended, as if my words had forced them to consider perspectives they'd long ignored.

I held Volkov's gaze for one more meaningful moment before turning back to Theo. My mate's expression was carefully diplomatic, but his eyes glowed with pride as they met mine. He leaned down, his lips brushing my forehead in a gesture that was both affectionate and deeply political – a public endorsement of my position.

"You're amazing," he whispered against my skin, his breath warm and intimate despite our formal surroundings.

I allowed myself a small smile, feeling strangely lighter despite the confrontation. "I'm just getting started," I murmured back.

The minister retreated with a stiff bow, his dignity wounded but his position clear. As he moved away, the crowd around us subtly rearranged itself, conversations resuming but with a different energy. I could feel the ripples of what had just happened spreading through the ballroom – the first public stance of the new Queen, drawing a line in the sand that could not be erased.

Theo's hand found the small of my back, a warm anchor against the swirl of politics around us. "I think you just changed the course of budget meetings for the next century," he said, his voice low and amused.

"Good." I leaned slightly into his touch, drawing strength from his solidity. "They were due for a change."

A server passed with fresh champagne, and this time I took a glass with purpose. The bubbles seemed brighter somehow, the taste sweeter. Across the room, I caught Christian's eye – he raised his own glass in a subtle toast, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

"Did I overstep?" I asked Theo quietly, though I felt no real doubt about my position.

"Not at all." His fingers pressed reassuringly against my spine. "You just reminded everyone why you're exactly what this kingdom needs. Including me."

The string quartet launched into something new, something with more light and movement than before. I took another sip of champagne, feeling the strange, heady mix of power and responsibility settle within me. The mark on my neck seemed to pulse with a pleasant warmth, a physical reminder of my connection to Theo, to the throne, to this new life I was forging.

Minister Volkov might have been the first to test my resolve, but he wouldn't be the last. The thought didn't frighten me as much as I thought it would. Instead, I felt a calm certainty spreading through me like moonlight across a darkened landscape – illuminating the path ahead one step at a time.

"Shall we mingle?" Theo asked, his eyes still sparkling with that particular pride that made my heart flutter. "Or would you prefer to terrify a few more ministers first?"

I laughed, the sound genuine and unfettered. "Let's mingle," I decided. "But I reserve the right to terrify anyone who deserves it."

"As is your royal prerogative, my Queen." He offered his arm with playful formality.

I took it, feeling the strength in him, the partnership we were building. Around us, the ballroom continued its elegant dance of power and politics, but something had shifted – a small tremor that would grow into seismic change. And I was ready for it.