They release me, and I walk back toward the hall on unsteady legs, processing their threats, their disgust, how they still blame me while Gwendolyn sits there glowing with her stolen prize.
At the alcove's edge, something clicks with horrible clarity. How did they know about Nathan and Luca visiting my chambers? About the specific hours Ryder summons me? These aren't normal court gossip—someone has been feeding them detailed information about my private life.
My gaze sweeps the hall until landing on Lady Morgana. She watches with barely concealed satisfaction, her red hair gleaming. Of course. Nathan's warning stopped her from touching me directly, but she found another way to strike. She whispered poison in my parents' ears, knowing exactly how they'd react.
Something inside me snaps—like a chain breaking after years of strain. I've spent my entire life trying to earn their approval. But they never will. They never did. I was only ever a tool, and now that I'm no longer useful, they want me to disappear.
"No," I breathe, the word tasting like freedom.
I stride back into the hall, spine straightening with each step. I don't care about propriety anymore, about embarrassment or reputation or the chains they've wrapped around my throat since birth.
"Mother. Father," I call out, my voice carrying across the space. Several tables fall silent, heads turning. "I have something to say."
Father's face darkens. "Coralina, sit down. You're making a scene."
"Good," I reply, voice growing stronger. "Since you're so concerned about reputation, let's discuss it openly. Let's talk about how you sold your eldest daughter to preserve a political alliance. How you chose ambitions over my wellbeing."
"You will be silent," Mother hisses, but her threat holds no power anymore.
"I will not," I counter, and now the entire section watches. "You sent me here as payment for Gwendolyn's betrayal. She stole my fiancé, you rewarded her with a wedding, and punished me for her sins. Now you dare lecture me about propriety?"
Gwendolyn's triumphant expression wavers, her hand stilling on her belly. Elijah shifts uncomfortably beside her, unable to meet my eyes.
"You are no longer my family," I declare, each word ringing with finality. "A family protects each other. A family shows love, offers support, stands together through hardship. You've shown me none of that. You sold me like livestock, and now you come here to control me even in my exile?"
Father's face turns red with rage, his hands clenching into fists. "You ungrateful little—"
"Lady Coralina is under the crown's protection." Ryder's voice cuts through Father's building tirade like a blade through silk. He hasn't raised his voice, hasn't even stood from his seat at the high table, but his authority fills the room. "She answers to no one except the crown. Anyone who presumes otherwise will answer to me personally."
The dismissal in his tone is absolute, final. Father's mouth works soundlessly, caught between his rage and the political reality of challenging the Lycan King. Mother's face has gone pale, recognizing the social death that comes with being publicly rebuked by royalty.
"Your Majesty," Father starts, attempting damage control, but Ryder has already turned away, returning to his conversation as if my parents no longer exist.
The message is clear—they are nothing to him, and by extension, they should be nothing to me.
“If you allow, my king,” I lower my head, barely keeping myself together. Ryder nods, sympathy on his face.
I turn and walk from the hall with as much dignity as I can muster, legs shaking. The weight of what I've done—publicly denouncing my family—threatens to buckle my knees. But I keep walking, through the doors, past guards, into quieter corridors.
I make it fifty feet before the magnitude crashes over me. I lean against the wall, breath coming in gasps. Not tears of sadness—these are tears of terror, of recognition. I've burned the last bridge to my old life. Morgana's vindictiveness cost me the final shreds of family connection.
Footsteps echo behind me. When I turn, both Nathan and Luca are there, having followed from the hall. Their formal attire makes them look like dark princes, but their expressions hold only concern.
Neither speaks at first. Nathan simply opens his arms, and I fall into them without hesitation. His solid warmth surrounds me—pine and leather and safety—while Luca moves close behind me, his hand gentle on my back.
They hold me between them while I tremble, not from regret but from the sheer enormity of what I've done. I've finally stood up for myself, finally said the words I've swallowed for twenty years.
"Come on," Nathan murmurs against my hair. "Let's get you somewhere private."
They guide me through lesser-known corridors to a small sitting room I've never seen before. Luca locks the door behind us while Nathan settles me on a velvet couch. My hands won't stop shaking.
"That was incredibly brave," Luca says, sitting beside me while Nathan takes my other side. "Stupid, maybe, but brave."
"They deserved worse," Nathan growls. "Using Morgana's poison to attack you publicly? Cowards."
"They're nothing now," I whisper. "I have no family anymore."
"That's not true," Luca says firmly, hand covering mine. "You have us. You have Ryder. People who actually care about you."
Nathan's arm slides around my shoulders. "We're your family now, if you'll have us. The family you choose, not forced by blood."
The tenderness in his voice breaks something loose in me. These men, these Alphas who should want to own me, instead offer me belonging without conditions. "You barely know me," I protest weakly.
"We know enough," Nathan replies, his lips brushing my temple. "We know you're strong enough to survive their cruelty. Brave enough to stand up in that hall and speak truth. Independent enough to want to fix all on your own. Kind enough to try to dispel the conflict as much as possible."
"And we know how you taste," Luca adds with a wicked grin that makes heat flood my cheeks. "How you respond to our touches. How perfectly you fit between us."
His hand slides up my arm, leaving trails of warmth. "Let us remind you of your worth, little moon. Let us worship you the way they never did."
Nathan's mouth finds my neck, placing gentle kisses along the column of my throat. "You're extraordinary," he murmurs between kisses. "They were fools not to see it."
Luca's fingers trace my jaw, turning my face toward him. "May we?" he asks softly. "May we show you how precious you are to us?"
I nod, unable to speak past the emotion clogging my throat. Luca's mouth claims mine, sweet and searching, while Nathan's hands slide into my hair, removing pins until it falls freely around my shoulders. They work together, no jealousy or competition, just shared purpose in making me feel cherished.
"Beautiful," Nathan breathes, his hands skimming my sides with reverent touches. "So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes."
Luca breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down my jaw. "Perfect," he agrees, nipping gently at my pulse point. "Made for us. The Moon Goddess knew what she was doing."
Their touches remain gentle, worshipful, focused on comfort rather than passion. They hold me between them, whispering praise and promises, until the shaking stops and I can breathe again.
"Thank you," I whisper, surrounded by their warmth and scent. "For following me. For this."
"Always," Nathan promises, pressing a kiss to my crown.
"Forever," Luca adds, his hand squeezing mine.
And in this moment, held between my mates while the world shifts around us, I believe them.