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Mylah speaks only once, to provide context for that night—it was her house we were in. Under the table, I reach for her hand as my friends offer their condolences for what’s happened to it.

“Well,” Zade says, doing his best to be positive, “at least now you’ve got one that’s a lot better, huh?”

That makes Mylah laugh, and I relax. Only when the meeting is over do they ask for a moment alone with me. Mylah goes to stand with the omega staff at the edge of the room, chatting amiably with them.

“So,” Brack says, flicking his eyes to her, “she’s coming to the meetings.”

“Yes. She is my partner.”

Zade and Denvil exchange a glance.

“She’s your…Omega,” Zade says. I know he’s not trying to be rude. I’ve only recently opened my eyes to how terrible things are for omegas here, and that’s intimately knowing and caring for one. I can’t expect my friends to catch on so quickly.

“Mylah is my equal,” I counter, which makes their eyes widen. Searching for the word, I finally say, “She is…my queen.”

They don’t protest her being present at the meetings, though it’s clear they don’t fully understand. Mylah and I leave together, and the idea of her being my queen percolates in my head, building up to an idea that I should have thought of a long time ago.

***

Kellen stands in the foyer of the castle with several other advisers, welcoming in all the same diplomats and shifters who were at the wedding. They wear their Northern Kault navy robes. A young beta woman hands out candles to each group that comes in.

At first, my advisers had not liked the idea.

“A coronation?” Kellen asked, looking bewildered. “We don’t even do that for kings! And the pack members are already talking—”

“Let them talk,” I’d said, lifting my hand to him, “and when they do, let them refer to my wife, my mate, as their queen.”

And so, the preparations for the coronation began. Over time, talk spread throughout Kault and into the other territories, with a surprisingly positive sentiment for the coronation. A queen from one of the Oceanic packs sent a package to Mylah, congratulating her on her new position.

It’s been an interesting period.

When I knock on the door, I find Mylah surrounded by other women, wearing a navy dress with a modest skirt that just hugs her ample curves.

She’s gorgeous.

But I always think that.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I ask, doing a quick scan of her. She looks nervous, of course, but also confident. I think the package and message from that Oceanic queen helped her feel better about it.

We’d gone back and forth for a while on whether an official coronation was a good idea.

“You don’t think it’s going to be too much?” Mylah had asked when we were lying in bed together, her voice soft.

I’d stared down at her, at her rosy cheeks and bright eyes. “No. I think you’re already my queen, but I want everyone else to know it. And think of what it will signal to the omegas in this pack.”

That, I think, was what had convinced her.

***

The next morning, coming down for breakfast in the dining hall, Aurora had stalked into the room with that typical, flat look on her face. Her dark hair streamed out behind her, and she’d fixed her gaze on me, beelining in my direction.

I was sure she was furious.

Then, she shocked me and Mylah beside me by throwing her arms around me. She held me for a long moment, then whispered, “Thank you.”

Promptly, as though it never happened at all, she turned on her heel and walked around to the other side of the table, sitting down for her breakfast like she always does. Quietly, and on her own.

Mylah and I had glanced at each other. Mylah mouthed, Wow.