The Alpha’s Moon Gala Reckoning

"However, this year we have one more honor to bestow... a very special one."

A ripple of curiosity stirred through the gathered wolves, whispers spreading like wildfire through the great hall.

I gave a slight nod to the omega attendant standing at the side of the raised platform.

She approached carrying a square gift box draped in deep blue velvet, a silver ribbon tied around it that caught the torchlight with understated elegance. Her steps were measured, unhurried. She placed the box on the stone podium before me.

It wasn't large, but it was exquisite.

Kael's face—which had been dark with barely contained fury—shifted the moment he saw it.

The resentment and rage drained from his eyes like a receding tide, replaced by rekindled anticipation. He straightened in his seat and glanced toward Selene.

Selene's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. But within seconds, she gave Kael an almost imperceptible nod—part reassurance, part signal.

I reached out and let my fingers glide over the smooth velvet surface.

"This honor carries no silver-tribute attached. It's not tied to hunt tallies or patrol reports." My voice was steady, even carrying a hint of warmth. "It simply represents the pack's... appreciation for one wolf's rather unique contributions."

Kael's spine went ramrod straight. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, impossible to suppress.

A look of smug certainty flashed in his eyes—I knew it.

He probably assumed the silver chest and the patrol mount were just window dressing, and that this "special honor" was the real prize prepared specifically for him.

Perhaps a blood-right deed to prime hunting grounds. Or something even more valuable—territory shares, a seat among the elders?

The gathered wolves seemed to share his speculation, their gazes ping-ponging between Kael and me.

I lifted my head, caught his eyes with precision, and smiled.

"Kael Ashford. Liaison Ashford."

I called his name.

In that instant, the anticipation on Kael's face peaked.

He drew a deep breath and smoothed the lapels of his midnight-blue velvet coat, trying to project an air of composure. But the eagerness and triumph in his eyes were practically spilling over.

He walked to the front and stopped before me, a dazzling smile spreading across his face.

"Alpha Blackthorn."

His voice rang out, vibrating with barely contained excitement.

I said nothing more. I simply gestured toward the box on the podium.

Kael stepped forward and lifted the velvet box with both hands.

It was lighter than expected.

A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but it was quickly buried beneath a fresh wave of anticipation.

He turned to face the assembled pack, holding the box aloft like a trophy. His gaze found Selene's direction for a brief, triumphant moment.

Then, projecting to the entire hall, he declared:

"Thank you, Alpha Blackthorn! Thank you for the pack's recognition! I will continue to serve faithfully and never disappoint this... special favor the pack has shown me!"

Scattered applause trickled through the crowd.

It was obvious—he wasn't well-liked here. The scent of disdain hung faintly in the air from several directions.

In her seat, Selene's face relaxed into a relieved smile. She clapped along, soft and measured.

Kael, brimming with self-satisfaction, couldn't wait any longer. His fingers attacked the silver ribbon.

They trembled slightly with excitement, and it took him several seconds to undo the elegant knot.

The velvet lid finally lifted.

The smile on his face froze solid the instant he saw what lay inside.

The ceremony master and the omega attendant, standing closest on the platform, saw it first.

The attendant's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes going wide as saucers.

The ceremony master's professional smile calcified into something almost comical—pure, undisguised shock.

The front rows began to see it too.

The whispers ignited like water hitting hot oil—a sharp sizzle, then a rapid spread into an uproar that could no longer be contained.

Someone adjusted the moonstone lantern. The pale beam tightened, centering on the carved wooden chest in Kael's hands.

No silver-tribute inside. No den-grant tokens. Nothing of value.

Just five chicken butts.

Cleaned and cooked, they gleamed with that distinctive pale-yellow sheen of braised meat. Arranged in a perfect circle on the white silk lining at the bottom of the chest.

Each one plump. Glistening with oil.