Chapter 3
The first decree I signed as Princess Hannah of the Royal Lycan Pack wasn't a proclamation of war. It was a simple trade embargo. With a single stroke of a heavy fountain pen, I cut off the Silver Moon Pack’s access to the western grain routes and the southern meat suppliers.
"Are you sure about this, Princess?" General Kael asked, his gruff voice echoing in the war room. "The innocent wolves will hunger too."
I looked down at the map spread across the table. "Hunger breeds questions, General. And questions breed revolution. Jonas needs to learn that a pack cannot eat pride."
A week later, the reports started coming in. The Silver Moon Pack was in chaos. Their usual shipments of imported beef and fresh produce had been turned away at the border by Lycan soldiers. I imagined Jonas sitting in his office, staring at the empty larder, likely blaming the delivery drivers rather than his own incompetence.
According to our spies, Jonas had laughed when he received the formal scroll bearing my royal seal. He told his Beta, Marcus, that it was a forgery. "Hannah is just acting out," he had reportedly said, waving the parchment around like a toy. "She's staying at some hotel, trying to scare me. She'll come crawling back when her credit cards decline."
He didn't know I had frozen those cards myself. He didn't know I didn't need them.
But the most interesting report came from the whispers in the pack house. Lacey was busy. As the pantry dwindled, she wasn't helping distribute rations or comforting the pups. She was spinning a web. She told the Omegas that I was a witch—that I had cursed the pack lands before I left, blighting the crops and souring the milk.
"Only a true mate can save us," she had crooned to the elders. "Jonas and I... we are fated. The Moon Goddess is punishing us because he is with the wrong woman."
It was a desperate, pathetic lie. But desperate wolves will believe anything if it promises a full belly.
Three days later, they arrived at the Royal Palace.
I sat on the dais in the Grand Council Chamber, my father, the King, seated on the massive obsidian throne to my right. I wore a gown of deep violet silk, the color of our house, and on my finger sat the Royal Signet ring—a heavy band of platinum and amethyst that hummed with ancient magic.
When the heavy doors creaked open, Jonas strode in with Lacey clinging to his arm. They looked... diminished. Jonas’s shirt was wrinkled, his jaw unshaven. Lacey wore a white dress that was a little too tight, trying to project purity but screaming impropriety.
They didn't see me at first. They only saw the King.
"Your Majesty," Jonas boomed, puffing out his chest. "I come to seek justice. My pack is being strangled by a witch who claims royal authority!"
My father didn't speak. He just gestured vaguely to his left.
Jonas followed the hand. His eyes landed on me. He blinked, once, twice. Then he laughed. A nervous, confused sound. "Hannah? What are you doing up there? Get down before you get in trouble. You can't just sit on the royal dais."
"Silence," I said. I didn't shout. I didn't use an Alpha tone. I just spoke, and the acoustics of the room carried my voice like a thunderclap.
Lacey stepped forward, her face twisting into a sneer. "Oh, please. Look at her, Jonas. She's probably sleeping with one of the guards to get access. You jealous bitch! You think you can starve us just because you couldn't keep your husband?"
The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The King shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but I held up a hand to stop him.
I looked at Lacey. I didn't see a rival anymore. I saw a bug.
I flicked my wrist. Just a small, dismissive gesture.
Two Royal Guards, massive wolves in ceremonial armor, moved faster than the eye could follow. Before Lacey could draw her next breath, she was slammed face-first onto the cold stone floor.
"Get off me!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and panicked. "Jonas! Help!"
Jonas lunged forward, his eyes flashing gold. "Let her go! She is my—"
"She is nothing," I interrupted, standing slowly. "And you are trespassing in the court of your Princess."
Jonas froze. He looked from the guards to me, then to the King, and finally to the ring on my finger. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse.
"Princess?" he whispered. "No. No, that’s impossible. You... you garden. You had a turtle."
"Barnaby," I corrected, descending the stairs. Every step echoed in the silent hall. "And yes. I had a turtle. And you killed him because you thought I was weak. You thought I was nobody."
I stopped right in front of him. He smelled of fear and stale whiskey.
"Take them to the holding cells," I ordered the guards. "Separate them. I want to hear them beg in different keys."
An hour later, I walked down the damp stone corridor of the dungeons. The air smelled of mildew and despair. I stopped at Jonas’s cell first. He was sitting on the cot, his head in his hands.
When he saw me, he scrambled to the bars. "Hannah! Hannah, please. This is insane. I didn't know! If I had known who you were..."
"If you had known, you would have treated me with respect?" I asked, tilting my head. "Is that it, Jonas? You only respect power? You couldn't respect your wife, your Luna, just because she was a person?"
"I can fix this," he stammered, his hands gripping the iron bars. "Baby, listen. I'll get rid of Lacey. I'll send her away. We can start over. A Royal alliance... think of how strong the Silver Moon Pack would be! You and me, ruling together."
He was still trying to negotiate. He still thought he had something to offer.
"You think this is about a trade deal?" I laughed softly, a cold sound. "You think this is a tantrum? Jonas, I am reviewing your Alpha title as we speak. The Council is discussing stripping you of your rank entirely."
His eyes went wide. "You can't do that. It's hereditary!"
"It's a privilege," I snapped, my eyes flashing violet. "And you abused it. You let a mistress starve your pack while you played house. You are unfit."
"It was just a turtle!" he yelled, his composure cracking. "All of this for a stupid animal!"
I leaned close to the bars, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "It wasn't just the turtle, Jonas. Barnaby was the catalyst. But your cruelty? That was the fuel. Enjoy the dark. I hear it helps with reflection."
I turned and walked away, ignoring his screams as they echoed off the stone walls. Further down the hall, Lacey was sobbing, calling out for Jonas to come save her.
He couldn't even save himself.
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