The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 425

Chapter 425: Wanda Confronts Meredith

[Third Person].

As the night deepened, the torches along the great hall burned lower, their golden glow softening to a dim amber hue.

The musicians played one last gentle melody before retreating to the sides of the hall. The murmur of conversation slowed.

Even the Elders, who had lingered over their wine and quiet debates, began to lean back in their chairs, content or exhausted.

Randall Oatrun rose from his seat at the head of the table. Despite the long evening, his bearing was still regal, his tone clear.

"It has been a night well spent," he said, his gaze sweeping the length of the hall. "Our people have returned, our trust in Stormveil’s strength is renewed, and our Alpha son has shown once again that the Oatrun bloodline stands for resilience and loyalty."

The room stirred with agreement—light applause, murmurs of approval. Randall waited for the sound to fade before continuing.

"Before we end this gathering, I would like to call upon Alpha Draven to give a closing word to mark the night."

Immediately, all eyes turned to Draven again as he slowly rose from his seat.

"Tonight has been long," he began, "but necessary." His gaze travelled over the faces at the table.

"When I was sent to Duskmoor," he continued, "it was not to wage war, but to uphold peace. When that peace broke, I didn’t fight to bring back victory. I fought to bring our people home. The blood we shed, the losses we endured, they were not just mine. They were Stormveil’s." 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

His tone was even, but the weight beneath it pulled the room into complete stillness.

"We return now to rebuild," Draven said. "And as we do, we remember that unity is not born from fear, but from purpose. Let tonight serve as that reminder."

Then he inclined his head briefly toward his father. "That is all."

For a long moment, silence lingered again, then applause followed, growing from a respectful rhythm into genuine applause.

Randall nodded once, pride veiled in restraint. "Well spoken."

Wanda, still seated, stared at Draven. Every word he spoke burned into her mind—the effortless command, the weight he carried without raising his voice, the way Meredith stood beside him as though she belonged there.

Her fingers clenched around the stem of her goblet until her knuckles whitened.

The applause went on around her, but she heard only the sound of her father’s quiet sigh beside her—a sound that felt like disappointment.

When she finally stood, she did it slowly, fixing her expression back into its flawless mask. Then, she smiled, she nodded, she looked every bit the dignified daughter of Reginald Fellowes.

But beneath it all, jealousy smouldered, alive and patient.

As some of the guests began to drift toward the exits, the murmur of conversation thickened around the great hall.

Randall had just dismissed the crowd when the silver-armoured delegate from King Alderic approached and bowed low before Draven.

"Your Majesty’s envoy requests a moment," Randall said smoothly.

Draven inclined his head. "Very well." Then, turning to Meredith, his expression softened. "Go on ahead. I will find you shortly."

She nodded once, a quiet understanding passing between them and turned toward the long corridor that led out of the banquet hall.

From across the room, Wanda watched the exchange. The simple trust in Meredith’s nod and the protective warmth in Draven’s tone scraped at her like glass.

When Meredith walked away, alone and unguarded, Wanda’s pulse quickened. ’Perfect,’ she thought, rising smoothly to her feet.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify