Chapter 14: Moonlight Ball
1383words
"So," I'd asked as the tense meeting concluded, "you claim to have information about the prophecy and who wants me dead?"
Dominic had smiled thinly. "I do. But not here, not now. At tomorrow's Moonlight Ball, my informant will be present. He will only speak in a public setting—for his own safety."
Now I stared at the formal invitation that had appeared under my door that morning, my arms crossed firmly over my chest. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to a ball while someone wants me dead and Dominic is lurking around the temple boundaries."
My three guardians stood in my quarters, each trying to convince me that attending was our best option.
"The Council has already accepted his terms," Lucien explained gently. "All territories will be represented."
"Great," I muttered. "So instead of one person wanting me dead, I'll be in a room with potentially dozens."
"You'll have us," Griffin said firmly. "All three of us."
"And every other Alpha will bring their entourage too," Valerian added. "It's tradition."
I sighed, looking down at the elegant script on the invitation. The Moonlight Ball. Even the name sounded pretentious.
"Fine," I conceded. "But I don't have anything to wear to a werewolf prom."
Valerian's eyes lit up. "That, darling, is a problem I can solve."
---
Three hours later, I was staring at myself in the mirror, horrified.
"I look like I've been wrapped in curtains," I groaned, turning sideways to examine the voluminous gown Valerian had procured. The fabric was beautiful—midnight blue with silver embroidery—but the dress was clearly designed for someone taller and more... everything.
"It's the best I could find on short notice," Valerian defended, though even he looked dubious. "The temple doesn't exactly have a boutique."
"Can't I just wear jeans?" I pleaded. "Progressive female Alpha and all that?"
"The ball is steeped in tradition," Lucien explained, looking sympathetic. "Your appearance will be scrutinized by every territory."
"Great," I muttered. "No pressure."
A knock at the door interrupted us. Griffin entered, carrying a large box.
"What's that?" I asked.
"A solution," he said simply, placing the box on the bed and opening it.
Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen. Silver-gray silk that seemed to shimmer with hints of blue when it caught the light, simple yet elegant in design.
"How did you—" I began, touching the fabric reverently.
"I sent word to North Territory this morning," Griffin said, looking almost embarrassed. "I guessed you might need something appropriate."
"You guessed right," I said, lifting the dress. It looked exactly my size. "Thank you."
Griffin nodded, a hint of softness in his usually stern expression. "I'll wait outside."
---
The Great Hall had been transformed. Silver lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting moonlight-like illumination over the gathered werewolves. Representatives from all territories mingled, though I noticed clear divisions—North Territory members clustered near the windows, East near the refreshments, West by the musicians, and South keeping to themselves near the entrance.
"Remember," Lucien murmured as we entered, "you're not just Lyra tonight. You're the first female Alpha in fifty years."
"No pressure," I muttered again, suddenly aware of every eye turning toward us.
The dress Griffin had brought fit perfectly, flowing around me like liquid silver. My three guardians flanked me, each formally dressed—Griffin in stark black, Lucien in deep blue, and Valerian in burgundy with gold accents.
"The Council welcomes Lyra Everett and her guardians," announced Elder Thorne from a raised platform. "May the Moonlight Ball begin."
Music swelled from the orchestra, and couples began moving to the dance floor.
"Tradition dictates the Alpha opens the dancing," Lucien explained quietly.
"Of course it does," I sighed. "Any other traditions I should know about? Virgin sacrifice? Ritual combat?"
"Just dancing," Griffin said, offering his hand. "May I?"
I took his hand, letting him lead me to the center of the floor. "Fair warning—I haven't danced since junior prom, and that ended with my date wearing punch."
A hint of a smile touched Griffin's lips. "Follow my lead."
Dancing with Griffin was like his personality—structured, precise, and surprisingly intense. He held me firmly but respectfully, his movements controlled and deliberate. Despite his size, he moved with unexpected grace, though his expression remained serious, as if dancing were a tactical exercise.
"You're thinking too much," he murmured, guiding me through a turn.
"Says the man who looks like he's mentally reviewing battle plans while dancing," I countered.
That earned me a real smile, brief but transformative. "I'm calculating the optimal defensive positions in this room. Force of habit."
"Of course you are," I laughed, relaxing into his lead.
As the song ended, Lucien appeared at our side. "May I cut in?"
Griffin reluctantly released me with a formal nod.
Dancing with Lucien was entirely different—fluid, elegant, almost ethereal. Where Griffin had been solid and grounding, Lucien was like dancing with a gentle breeze. His steps were graceful, his guidance subtle.
"You dance beautifully," I said, surprised by how easily I followed him.
"In Eastern Territory, healing and arts are equally valued," he explained, his blue eyes warm. "Dancing helps understand how bodies move and flow."
"Is there anything you're not good at?" I asked.
A shadow crossed his face. "Many things. Protecting those I care about, for one."
Before I could respond, the music changed tempo, and Valerian smoothly inserted himself between us.
"My turn, healer," he said with a wink.
If Griffin was structure and Lucien was grace, dancing with Valerian was pure passion. He pulled me close, his movements bold and sensual, challenging me to match his intensity.
"Scandalized yet?" he murmured, noting the looks we were receiving.
"Should I be?" I asked, breathless as he spun me.
"Absolutely," he grinned. "We're breaking at least three traditional protocols right now."
"Only three? I'm disappointed."
His laugh was warm against my ear. "We could break more if you'd like."
As the dance ended, I found myself laughing. "This is the first time I've danced three completely different dances in one night."
"And how do you find it?" Valerian asked, still holding me close.
"Exhausting," I admitted. "But oddly fitting."
Our moment was interrupted by a commotion near the entrance. A young werewolf had collapsed, blood seeping through his formal attire.
"Silver poisoning," someone called out. "Get a healer!"
Without thinking, I rushed forward, dropping to my knees beside the fallen man. His face was contorted in pain, silver-laced veins visible beneath his skin.
"Silver in his drink," Lucien said, appearing beside me. "It's spreading fast."
The crowd backed away—silver poisoning was serious for werewolves, and many feared contamination. Even Lucien looked concerned about how to proceed.
I placed my hands on the man's chest, remembering how I'd eased Lucien's emotional pain. Could the same principle work for physical poison?
"Lyra, wait—" Lucien began, but I was already focusing, reaching for that warm energy inside me.
The connection formed instantly—I could feel the silver burning through the man's veins, killing him from within. Instead of pulling the pain into myself, I visualized pushing healing energy into him, neutralizing the poison.
A gasp went through the crowd as my hands began to glow with soft silver light. The poisoned werewolf's back arched, then relaxed as the silver-laced veins began to fade.
When I finally sat back, exhausted, the man was breathing normally, the poison neutralized.
"Impossible," someone whispered. "Silver poisoning can't be healed that quickly."
I looked up to find the entire ball staring at me in shock. My guardians stood protectively nearby, their expressions ranging from pride to concern.
Across the room, I caught sight of Thaddeus Thornfield, the Council's Chief Elder, watching me with calculating eyes.
"The prophecy begins to fulfill itself," he murmured, just loudly enough for enhanced werewolf hearing to catch. "The question is—will she be our salvation or our undoing?"
As I rose shakily to my feet, the young werewolf I'd saved grabbed my hand. "Thank you," he whispered. "But be careful—the silver wasn't an accident. Someone knew you would try to help."
