Chapter Thirteen-Toddler Opinions
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The boutique smelled like roses and silk, and I was already sweating. Cassia had insisted this place was “the only acceptable option” for my wedding-guest dress. The racks of gowns glittered like a dragon’s hoard, and the sheer size of the fitting rooms screamed money pit.
“Pick something subtle,” I begged her as she shoved three armfuls of gowns
into my arms.
“Subtle is for funerals, cousin,” Cassia said cheerfully. “You’re going to a wedding where the Alpha King is marrying the Ashthorne princess. We are not doing subtle.”
Caius muttered from the corner, arms crossed. “Translation: she’s going to spend all your money.”
Cassia shot him a glare. “Correction: I’m spending her money, because her dress will be photographed by half the continent’s nobility. You think I’d let my cousin go viral for being boring?”
Aeron popped up from behind a rack, holding something that looked like five pounds of ruffled pink disaster. “Mama wear THIS!” His little hands shook with the effort of lifting it.
I blinked at the explosion of tulle. “That’s… enormous.”
“Princess!” Aeron squealed, puffing up his chest. “Mama sparkle!”
I groaned. “Cassia, control your nephew.”
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“Why would I?” she said, swooping in to examine the gown. “He clearly inherited my taste.”
“Inherited your chaos, maybe,” Caius muttered, plucking the dress from Aeron and hanging it back.
Aeron pouted, stamping his tiny boot. “Noooooo! Sparkle, sparkle!” His voice carried, and two other shoppers turned to grin at us.
“See?” Cassia said smugly. “Even strangers agree with him.”
“Pretty sure they’re laughing at you,” Caius said.
“Jealous,” Cassia shot back.
I ducked into the fitting room with the pile Cassia had chosen. The first dress was a nightmare of sequins. I stepped out, and Cassia’s eyes lit up like
Christmas.
“Yes,” she declared. “That’s it.”
“No,” Caius said at the same time, flat as a wall.
I twisted in the mirror, wincing as the sequins scratched. “I look like a disco
ball.”
“You look like royalty,” Cassia corrected. “Which is exactly the vibe.”
“Royalty doesn’t itch this much,” I muttered, retreating to change again.
The second dress was emerald silk, slinky and scandalous. Cassia squealed, clapping her hands. Aeron clapped too, though I suspected he was just copying her.
Caius groaned. “That’s not a dress, that’s a declaration of war.”
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Cassia beamed. “Exactly!”
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Aeron tugged on my hand. “Mama pretty,” he said solemnly, like he’d just passed judgment from the toddler high court.
My chest squeezed. “Thanks, baby.”
The third gown was deep midnight blue, fitted at the waist, elegant without screaming for attention. I stepped out, and for once, Cassia went still.
Her mouth opened, closed. Then she let out a low whistle. “Oh, cousin. That’s
the one.”
Even Caius hesitated, his sharp gray eyes softening a fraction. “You don’t look like you’re trying. You just… look like you.”
Aeron beamed, clapping again. “Mama princess!”
I touched the skirt, heart squeezing. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was trying to fill a role. I just felt… right.
“Fine,” I said softly. “This one.”
Cassia squealed loud enough to make the clerk drop her pen. “Operation Wedding Glow-Up 2025 is officially a success!”
Caius groaned. “I need a drink.”
Aeron tugged on his uncle’s leg, sticky hands leaving faint prints on his trousers. “Unca Caius drink juice!” he commanded.
Cassia cackled, Caius groaned louder, and I buried my face in my hands.
This family was going to be the death of me.
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Just as Cassia was snapping celebratory selfies of me in the midnight-blue gown and Caius was muttering about needing whiskey at noon, I realized something.
The boutique had gone… suspiciously quiet.
“Aeron?” I called.
No answer.
Cassia waved a hand. “He’s probably under the chair or playing with a bow.”
Caius pushed off the wall, scanning the floor. “He was right by my leg a second ago.”
“Which means he’s definitely gone,” I said, panic creeping in.
Then a voice shrieked from somewhere deep in the racks: “MAMA! I A
CASTLE!”
Cassia slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a snort. “Oh no.”
We dove into the rows of gowns, fabric swishing around us like a jungle of overpriced tulle. Sure enough, Aeron had burrowed inside a circular rack of ball gowns, the layers of satin and lace draping around him like fortress walls. His golden-flecked eyes peeked out between them, wide and triumphant.
“Dis my castle,” he announced. “I king now!”
Cassia immediately bowed low. “All hail King Aeron of the Boutique!”
Caius groaned. “This is why he’s spoiled.”
Aeron pointed at him with royal authority. “Unca Caius in dungeon!”
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Cassia collapsed into giggles. I tried to look stern, but when Aeron peeked out again, crown of tulle wobbling on his curls, my heart melted.
“Aeron,” I said carefully. “Kings don’t run away from their queens.”
He blinked, then gasped dramatically. “Sowwy, Mama Queen!” He scrambled out of the rack and into my arms, burying his face against my neck. “Love you.”
I kissed his hair, my throat tight. “Love you too, troublemaker.”
Cassia snapped another photo. “That one’s going on the wedding glow-up scrapbook.”
Caius muttered, “More like blackmail album,” but he was smiling, too.
As we finally checked out, Aeron perched proudly on my hip, still declaring himself “King Aeron,” Cassia prancing beside us like his herald, and Caius trailing
behind like a bodyguard already exhausted by court politics.
Somehow, between the chaos, the laughter, and the ridiculous amount of
tulle, I thought-maybe we’d survive this wedding after all.
米米米
Back at Valemont, our shopping spoils were barely through the door before chaos resumed.
Cassia dumped her bags on the couch with a dramatic flourish. “Behold! Dresses, shoes, accessories-and receipts that could make kingdoms fall.”
Alpha Darius leaned out of his office doorway, one eyebrow arched, gray eyes sharp. “How much did you spend?”
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Cassia froze, then smiled sweetly. “Define… spend?”
“Cassia,” he warned, in full Alpha mode.
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“An investment!” she blurted, thrusting Aeron’s little hand into the air like he was a prize. “For the Glow-Up of the Year. Operation Wedding Glow-Up 2025!”
Aeron clapped, fully in on the scheme. “Glow up!” he chirped.
Alpha Darius pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have stayed in my office.”
Caius sauntered past, carrying garment bags. “Told you not to let them loose unsupervised.”
“You’re supposed to be my supervision!” Elara shot back.
“I supervised,” Caius said dryly, dropping the gowns carefully over the chair. “I supervised you buying half of Paris.”
“It was Lisbon!” Cassia corrected. “Get your geography right.”
Aeron tugged on Darius’s pants leg. “Gampa, I king now.”
Alpha Darius looked down, utterly unimpressed. “Oh, really?”
Aeron nodded hard, curls bouncing. “I got castle in shop. Big castle.”
“Did you now?” Alpha Darius crouched, his voice low and gruff but his eyes softer than he probably intended. “Then as king, you’ll learn ruling is expensive. Ask your Aunt Cassia about that.”
Cassia huffed. “Don’t drag me into this-I’m his royal advisor.”
“You’re his bad influence,” Caius said flatly.
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Elara tried not to laugh as Luna Lyanna drifted in, serene as ever, tray of tea in her hands. Her smile was faint but knowing, her eyes sweeping over the pile of bags, Aeron’s crown of imagined glory, and the exasperation in her mate’s posture.
“Chaos again?” she asked softly.
“Always,” Alpha Darius muttered.
Lyanna’s gaze lingered on Elara just a second longer than necessary-gentle, grounding, the promise of a quieter conversation to come.
And though Elara smiled back, something in her chest tightened. Because laughter and chaos and family could only distract her so long.
The shopping bags had barely hit the Valemont Packhouse floor when the chaos began again.
Cassia dumped hers with a dramatic sigh. “I think I’ve done permanent damage to my arms. These dresses are basically medieval armor.”
“You didn’t carry half of them,” Caius muttered, adjusting his shoulder where he still held the heaviest garment bag.
Cassia ignored him, already twirling. “Elara, the glow-up is secured. The Alpha King will keel over when he sees you.”
Elara’s stomach twisted at the words, but before she could respond, Aeron popped out from behind the pile of bags wearing a scrap of tulle like a cape.
“I king!” he declared, toddling onto the rug with a toy sword in hand.
Alpha Darius stepped out of his office at that exact moment, folding his arms.
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“Oh, so you’ve replaced me?”
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Aeron puffed up his tiny chest. “Yes. I king now. You sit.”
Cassia whooped, clapping her hands. “Coronation complete!”
Caius leaned against the wall, smirking. “Don’t encourage him. He already bosses Cassia around.”
“Because I listen!” Cassia shot back. “Unlike you.”
Luna Lyanna entered, her calm presence immediately grounding the room, tray of tea in hand. She arched a delicate brow at the scene-the toddler monarch, the tulle-cape trailing dangerously close to being stepped on, Alpha Darius glaring down at his grandson.
“Chaos again?” she asked gently, setting the tray down.
“Always,” Alpha Darius muttered.
Elara crouched to peel the cape off Aeron’s shoulders. “Bedtime, little king.”
“No!” Aeron squealed, darting away, bare feet slapping against the wood. “No bed, no bath! Fight me!” He swung his toy sword with dramatic flair.
“You heard him,” Cassia said solemnly, grabbing a throw pillow like a shield. “The king has spoken.”
Caius plucked the sword neatly from Aeron’s hand as he dashed past. “Kings don’t get to skip baths.”
Aeron gasped, betrayed. “Traitor!”
Elara scooped him up mid-wiggle, his little arms still flailing in mock battle. She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Traitor or not, you’re still going in the tub.”
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“Unfair,” Aeron muttered into her shoulder, but his small arms curled around her neck anyway.
Alpha Darius shook his head, muttering something about “mini monarchs” and “Cassia’s influence,” while Luna Lyanna’s quiet laugh warmed the edges of the
scene.
The packhouse had finally quieted. Aeron’s soft shores drifted through the walls, and Cassia’s distant voice carried faintly from her room, still rambling into a
phone call with some poor victim of her midnight energy.
Elara lingered in the hallway, staring out a tall window. The moon hung heavy and full, its glow spilling across the grounds. Her reflection in the glass looked tired, her curls frizzed from the day, her dress rumpled, her heart… too full of
secrets.
“Long day?”
Elara startled. Luna Lyanna stood at the end of the hall, a lantern in hand. Graceful even in her night-robe, her presence was calming, but her sharp gray eyes missed nothing.
“I didn’t hear you,” Elara murmured.
“Few do,” Lyanna said softly, crossing the hall to join her. She set the lantern down on the side table, its light casting them both in amber. “I thought I’d check
on you.”
“I’m fine.” The words felt automatic. Too practiced.
Lyanna tilted her head, patient as only a Luna could be. “Fine is a shield word. And I have seen enough wolves use shields to know when one is cracking.”
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Elara looked away, throat tight. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
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“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” Lyanna’s voice was gentle, but firm, an anchor in the silence. “But you’ve been carrying something alone for too long.”
The weight of it all pressed down-the pregnancy years ago, the decision to keep the secret, the nights she held Aeron against her chest and wondered if she was strong enough for both of them.
Her voice broke. “I’m scared.”
Lyanna’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, steady and warm. “Every mother is, Elara. That is how we know we love fiercely enough.”
Tears burned her eyes, slipping free. “What if I fail him? What if I can’t protect him when-when he starts asking who his father is?”
Lyanna’s gaze softened, though her words were measured. “He already has a father, Elara. He has Alpha Darius’s protection, Caius’s guidance, Cassia’s chaos, my watchful eye, and most of all… you. You are not raising him alone. You are raising him with a pack.”
Elara’s lip trembled. “But it’s not the same. One day, he’ll want to know. And I…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know if the man I met-if he was human, wolf, or something else entirely. What if I’ve hidden the wrong truth?”
Lyanna’s hand squeezed gently. “Then when that day comes, you will face it. With honesty. With strength. And with us beside you.”
The words were a balm, easing some of the jagged edges inside her.
Elara whispered, “Do you ever wish things were simpler?”
Lyanna gave a soft, wry laugh. “If the Goddess wanted simple, she would not
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have given us wolves.”
Elara managed a watery smile at that, her chest loosening.
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Lyanna brushed a strand of hair from her face, maternal in her quiet care. “Rest, Elara. Tomorrow will come whether we are ready or not. But tonight, let yourself breathe.”
Elara nodded, her tears drying. “Thank you, Auntie.”
“Always,” Lyanna said simply, lifting the lantern. once more.
As the Luna’s steps faded down the hall, Elara leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the moonlight spill over Valemont.
For the first time in weeks, she let herself believe maybe she could do this- carry the secret, raise her son, face the unknown-because she wasn’t as alone as she feared.
When Luna Lyanna’s lantern glow disappeared down the hallway, silence wrapped around Elara again. She stayed by the window, watching the moon drift higher, her reflection in the glass blurring with her tears.
She pressed her palm against the cool pane, her own whisper fogging the glass: “I can do this. I have to.”
Behind her closed eyes, Aeron’s laughter echoed – sticky fingers grabbing her curls, his toddler voice mangling bedtime stories, his tiny arms wrapping around her neck with trust so absolute it shattered her fears and rebuilt them as
strength.
The secret of Paris still throbbed in her chest, but tonight, with moonlight and her pack’s walls around her, Elara finally breathed a little easier. For a few hours, she allowed herself to believe she wasn’t just surviving. She was building
something.
