The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 614: Old Scores to Settle

[Third Person].

A few nobles exchanged quiet looks. The Fellowes name had fallen hard. Their nobility was stripped, and their patriarch was under confinement. Yet here stood Levi.

Draven’s expression hardened slightly, though he said nothing.

Levi did not approach or attempt to disrupt. He merely bowed his head respectfully when their eyes briefly met.

He had been trying to reach Draven for weeks after learning about his family’s misfortune from Wanda. Today, he had chosen a public place where the King could not easily ignore him.

Meredith noticed the exchange but did not comment.

The ceremony concluded with the official signing of the marriage registry. Mystic Furs’ insignia was sealed beside the Aurelion crest. Then the formal procession began.

Guests were guided toward the grand banquet hall within the Oatrun estate.

Music rose. Servants moved swiftly and in no time, tables overflowed with roasted meats, wines, fruits, and layered confections.

As expected, the centre of attention shifted between two pairs: the newlywed Alpha and his bride, and the reigning King and Queen.

Dennis and Helena made their way first to the royal table, each holding a goblet of wine. When they reached Draven and Meredith, both bowed respectfully before straightening.

"Your Majesties," Dennis said formally, though the corner of his mouth twitched with restrained mischief.

Helena added warmly, "Thank you for honouring us with your presence."

Draven rose slightly from his seat—an acknowledgement not many received. Meredith smiled brightly.

"We would not miss this for anything," she said. "May your union be strong, and your bond unbreakable."

Then Dennis lifted his goblet. "To the Crown."

"To the Crown," Helena echoed.

Draven and Meredith lifted theirs in return. The four of them drank in unison.

For a brief moment, it was not King and Alpha. Just brothers.

Then Dennis and Helena moved on, circulating among guests as tradition required.

Soon, nobles and leaders approached the royal table one after another to offer congratulations and pledges of goodwill. Draven and Meredith handled each with measured grace.

Then a small stir formed near the edge of the hall. Levi Fellowes approached carefully, but before he could step within proper distance, the royal guards crossed their halberds in front of him. Without noble standing, he had no formal right to stand before the King.

A few guests began to watch. Levi did not protest; instead, he simply lowered his head.

Draven saw him, then lifted a hand. "Let him pass."

The guards stepped aside immediately. Levi walked forward and bowed deeply, deeper than most nobles had that evening.

"Your Majesty. Your Majesty," he greeted Draven and Meredith respectively.

Draven inclined his head. Meredith studied Levi quietly. He looked thinner than before. Less polished, but not defiant.

Then, Levi lifted his goblet. "I toast to a long and prosperous reign." Then the three of them drank from their goblet.

"Thank you, your majesty," Levi added sincerely. "For granting me this audience."

There was a slight shift in his tone, then he began, "My father—"

Draven’s expression changed almost imperceptibly. "Today is my brother’s wedding. It is not a day for petitions or disputes," he said evenly.

His words were calm and final. Levi had no choice but to swallow the rest of his words and immediately bowed his head again.

"I understand, Your Majesty." He bowed once more, then stepped back without another word.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Meredith leaned slightly toward Draven. "He may grow to resent you," she murmured. "But you must not soften."

Draven’s gaze remained steady ahead. "My decision stands. Nothing will change it," he replied quietly.

There was no hesitation in his voice, which made Meredith feel relief settle in her chest.

The music swelled again, drawing attention back to the centre of the hall where Dennis pulled Helena toward the dance floor, laughter rising around them.

At the same time, Meredith and Draven had just finished exchanging polite words with a visiting Alpha when she felt a familiar presence approach from the side.

Alpha Magnus. And behind him was Marc Harris.

Instantly, Meredith’s fingers stilled lightly around her goblet. So this was how fate chose to circle back.

Alpha Magnus bowed deeply. "Your Majesties. Congratulations on your reign, and on this joyous union."

Marc bowed just as low beside him.

For a fleeting second, Meredith was no longer seated beneath golden chandeliers as Queen of Stormveil. She was back in that ballroom years ago—the music stopping, whispers rising, Marc’s voice clear and unapologetic as he severed their bond before everyone.

She had been wolfless, cursed, and unwanted.

The memory no longer hurt, but she recalled the weight of it, especially how it had made her feel. Plus, the public ridicule.

Just then, Draven rose from his seat with perfect timing. "Alpha Magnus," he said smoothly, "walk with me."

Magnus blinked in mild surprise but obeyed at once, following Draven a few paces away.

Meredith felt Draven’s quiet brush of intention through the matebond. He was giving her room to deal with Marc Harris. So, she sent him a flicker of appreciation through the bond.

Marc remained bent before her. She did not tell him to rise. Instead, she let him stay that way, which was just long enough for him to feel the difference between past and present.

Then, she studied the top of his lowered head as if searching her memory. "And you are?" she asked calmly.

There was the slightest tremor in his voice when he answered. "Marc Harris, Your Majesty. Future Beta of Moonstone Pack."

"Future," she repeated lightly.

He swallowed a gulp.

"Moonstone is my birth pack, and its stability matters to me. Tell me, Marc Harris," she continued, her tone even and almost conversational, "do you believe yourself qualified to serve as Beta?"

A bead of sweat slid from his temple. He could feel that her actions were deliberate. But even if he was right, what could he do about it?

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied quickly. "I will serve with loyalty and diligence."

Meredith leaned back slightly in her seat, examining him without mercy. "Leadership is not only strength," she said. "It is character. Judgment."

Her words were soft, but they cut.

Marc’s fingers curled at his sides. In that moment, his mind raced wildly—fear flashing through him.

Would she strip him of position? Humiliate him publicly as he had once done to her? Ask for his life as punishment?

He knew Meredith could. She was Queen after all. But contrary to his frantic mind, Meredith had no interest in vengeance over a boy who no longer mattered.

There were deeper wounds in her past that deserved reckoning. For example, that half-wit who dared to scar her face after failing to molest her in their school’s restroom. She still had scores to settle with him.

Only taking his life would satisfy her.

Meredith leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression composed. "There was a time," she said gently, "when people judged worth by what they could see."

Marc’s shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.

"But Stormveil has learned," she continued, "that strength is not always visible at first glance."

Silence lingered between them, thick with unspoken history.

"You will assume no position without the Crown’s confirmation," she concluded. "Your conduct will be observed."

Relief flashed across his face, then was quickly hidden. "Yes, Your Majesty."

She gave a small nod. "You may rise and return to your Alpha."

Marc dipped his head—deeper than protocol required, and stepped back.

Then, Meredith lifted her goblet and took a measured sip of wine.