93: Theodore

He cleared his throat. "As I was explaining to His Majesty, the current proposal raises some serious questions about resource allocation. The Royal City hospitals are already stretched thin, with Lycans waiting hours for emergency treatment. Diverting funds to build new facilities in werewolf territories would only worsen the situation for the capital's population."

"Hours," Emma repeated, her voice soft but her eyes sharp. "And how long do werewolves currently wait for emergency care, Lord Folke?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not certain I—"

"Six hours," she provided. "Not to be seen in an emergency room, Lord Folke, but to travel to one. Six hours by car, for those fortunate enough to have one. Longer for those who must rely on limited public transportation. And that's assuming favourable weather conditions."

I watched with quiet pride as Lord Folke's expression soured.

"It's not that simple," he protested. "Building new facilities requires not just construction costs but staffing, equipment, ongoing maintenance—"

"I'm not suggesting we ignore the needs of Lycan communities, Lord Folke," Emma interrupted smoothly. "The hospitals in Lycan territory absolutely need improvement. However, they cannot be prioritized at the expense of werewolf lives."

"Your Majesty," he said, turning to me with barely concealed desperation, "surely you understand the practical challenges. The Royal City facilities serve the largest population concentration in the kingdom. Statistically speaking, improvements here benefit the greatest number of citizens."

"And leave the most vulnerable to suffer," Emma countered before I could respond.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Lord Folke said, his gaze fixed on me rather than Emma, "these decisions must be based on data and practical realities, not emotional appeals. The traditional funding model has served us well for centuries. Perhaps it would be wise to maintain proven systems rather than implementing dramatic changes based on... personal connections."

The implication was clear – that Emma's werewolf heritage was clouding her judgment. I felt a flash of anger hot as forge-fire in my chest, but kept my expression neutral.

"Lord Folke," I said, my voice quiet enough that he had to lean in slightly to hear me, "you aren't going to sway me from backing the Queen simply because, as she said to Minister Volkov, her animal runs on four legs and yours runs on two."

His eyes widened slightly. Apparently, he hadn't expected all of that particular conversation to have reached my ears.

I continued, "Going forward, the Queen will directly oversee the health budget allocations, and all expenditures must be approved by her and any systems she feels appropriate to implement."

Emma's hand found mine, her fingers cool against my palm, grounding me as always.

"As I said to Minister Volkov, Lord Folke," she added, her voice carrying the perfect blend of courtesy and warning, "if you do not get your priorities in order, you will be finding yourself unemployed."

The minister blanched.

"I... understand, Your Majesties," he managed. "Perhaps I should review the proposal more thoroughly before raising further concerns."

"An excellent idea," I agreed.

Lord Folke bowed, deeper this time and with none of his earlier stiffness. "Your Majesties. I'll take my leave."

As he retreated, I turned to Emma, unable to suppress my smile. "That was rather masterful."

"I learned from you," she said, though we both knew it wasn't true. Emma had always possessed this strength; she'd simply never had the opportunity to wield it so openly before.

"Those Alphas you were speaking with," I said. "You seemed quite familiar with them."

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "They're from territories near my home pack. We've crossed paths over the years."

"And what did they want with my queen?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"To pledge their loyalty," she answered simply. "And to invite us to visit their territories."

"An excellent idea," I said, brushing my thumb across the back of her hand. "I suspect Lord Folke could benefit from such a tour as well."

Emma laughed, a sound that still made my heart stutter even after all these months. "That might be a bit too much reality for him to handle just yet."

Around us, the celebration continued, glasses clinking, conversations flowing, music swelling. But in that moment, with Emma's hand in mine and the weight of our shared purpose between us, the rest of the world seemed to recede into pleasant background noise. We had mountains yet to move, centuries of prejudice to dismantle, but tonight – watching my queen take her rightful place with such natural authority – I allowed myself to believe we might actually succeed.