The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 593

Chapter 593: Risen Against Her

[Third Person].

One full month passed after the official announcement that Draven Oatrun would be crowned the next Werewolf King—King of Stormveil.

The news spread quickly through the packs. Among the people, there was excitement, pride, and anticipation. Draven had proven himself in strength, leadership, and battle. His ascension felt inevitable.

But the people were not the final authority. The Council of Elders was. But they were divided, and far from pleased.

The council chamber was steeped in age and authority. Stone pillars carved with ancient sigils stood like silent witnesses, and the long table bore the weight of generations of rule. The Elders sat in a rigid semicircle, their expressions guarded, sharp, and far from welcoming.

Draven stood alone before them.

The discussion began civilly—formal acknowledgements of his achievements, restrained approval of his claim to the throne. Then, inevitably, the conversation shifted.

"Your coronation is not in question," one Elder said, his tone cool and deliberate. "But your mate is."

Draven’s expression hardened. "She is not part of this meeting," he replied evenly.

Another Elder leaned forward. "She is the reason for it."

A murmur spread through the chamber.

"Meredith Carter is wolfless," another voice added. "Cursed by the Moon Goddess herself. A woman without a wolf cannot stand beside a crowned King."

Reginald Fellowes rose from his seat without hesitation.

"This council speaks wisely," he said smoothly. "Stormveil has never been ruled by a Queen without a wolf. No matter how capable she may appear, tradition exists for a reason."

He paused, then continued with calculated care. "Alpha Draven need not abandon his mate. Their marriage can remain intact. But crowning her Queen would be reckless. He should choose another woman for that role."

The chamber echoed with approval.

Draven’s jaw tightened. "My mate will be crowned Queen," he said, his voice low but unwavering.

An Elder scoffed openly. "You ask us to defy centuries of law."

"I am not asking," Draven snapped. "I am declaring."

Still, he did not reveal the truth. He did not tell them that Meredith was not wolfless. He did not tell them that the curse they whispered about no longer existed.

The Elders exchanged cold, measured looks. Then one of them finally said, "Until this matter is resolved, no date will be fixed for your coronation."

The words fell like a deliberate insult, and Draven’s patience finally broke in resolve.

"Then you will delay the inevitable," he said coldly.

Without another word, he turned and left the chamber, his footsteps sharp against the floor. The doors closed behind him.

Inside the chamber, silence lingered. Randall Oatrun remained seated. He waited until the tension settled before speaking.

"And what would satisfy this council?" he asked calmly. "What would make you crown Draven’s mate as Queen?"

The Elders looked among themselves. Then, Reginald answered with confidence. "If she has a wolf, she may be crowned."

A pause followed, then Randall nodded slowly. But at the corner of his lips, a smirk appeared—brief, controlled, and unnoticed by all.

---

Draven returned to the estate late in the afternoon. He entered their chambers with measured steps, removed his coat, and set it aside with deliberate care.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify