Page 5 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

CHAPTER FOUR

SLOANE

T he crisp afternoon breeze carries the scent of pine and freshly turned soil, mingling with the faint murmur of approaching carriages. I stand at the edge of the castle’s main courtyard, my crown resting lightly on my head. The perfectly manicured area sprawls before me as I wait.

The expanse of carefully laid cobblestones, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, and manicured hedges frame the space, their emerald leaves trimmed into precise shapes.

Clusters of vibrant wildflowers—deep purple, white, and crimson—spill from stone planters placed along the perimeter.

In the center, an ornate marble fountain bubbles quietly, its cascading water catching the sunlight in glittering arcs.

Clara’s at my side, her usual sharp gaze scanning the procession of wagons rolling through iron gates embellished with a wolf-head design. Behind me, Aeson’s pack moves efficiently, preparing to guide my people to their new homes.

The first transport comes to a stop, its wheels creak as the driver pulls the horses to a halt.

About a dozen people step down, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and uncertainty.

My heart clenches at the sight of them. These are wolves who’ve endured so much.

Wolves who’ve been uprooted from the land they’ve called home for generations.

But I don’t let the sorrow show. I can’t. They need a queen, not a grieving woman.

Clara steps forward as the first family approaches, her presence as commanding as ever. “Queen Sloane is here to welcome you personally,” she announces, her voice ringing clear and strong.

A young girl clings to her mother’s skirts as they approach me. Her wide eyes meet mine, and I drop to one knee, bringing myself to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask gently.

“C-Cleo,” she stammers, glancing up at her mother for reassurance.

“Cleo,” I repeat, letting her name linger with warmth. “It’s very nice to see you. You’re going to like it here. Venaris is a beautiful place, and we’ll make sure you and your family have everything you need.”

She nods hesitantly, her grip on her mother’s hand tightening.

I rise and place a soft touch on the woman’s shoulder. “I know this has been a lot,” I say, my voice steady. “But I’m going to make sure you’re all taken care of. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

As they move toward the waiting pack members, I catch Aeson out of the corner of my eye. He’s helping an elderly man off one of the carriages, his hands firm but gentle as he steadies the man’s trembling frame .

“You’re stronger than you look,” Aeson teases lightly, earning a weak chuckle from the elder wolf.

“I’ve still got a decent right hook too,” the man retorts, his voice rough but good-humored.

The exchange stirs something in me—relief, perhaps, that Aeson’s handling this transition with such care. For now, my people are in good hands.

The carriages continue to roll in, their wheels rocking over the cobblestone courtyard as family after family steps into the unfamiliar.

Each one is met with warmth and guidance, not only from me but from Aeson’s pack, their belongings unloaded with care and efficiency.

Some are escorted to the guest quarters within the castle—a temporary arrangement until more houses can be prepared—while others are led toward the village homes that have been readied.

The late afternoon sun casts golden light over the courtyard as the final carriage comes through the gates.

My heart lifts at the sight of Trey, one of my advisors, descending from it.

His broad shoulders carry the weight of our pack’s troubles, but the familiar determination in his expression feels like an anchor amidst the chaos.

His coat, worn from travel, hangs heavy on him, but as our eyes meet, his gaze softens.

“Your Majesty.” He bows deeply.

“Trey,” I say, stepping forward to clasp his arm. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Queen Sloane,” he replies, his tone formal and respectful. “The journey was long, but there’s much to discuss.”

“There always is,” I say, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. “But for now, let’s focus on getting everyone settled.”

He nods, glancing over his shoulder at the wagons being unloaded. “The pack will need a strong presence from you in the coming days. We might’ve been preparing for this day, but facing the reality of it is something else entirely.”

“I’ll be here,” I assure him. “Even in these lands, our people can count on me.”

Trey’s grey eyes darken and the slight wrinkles around them deepen as he looks around. “I hope so.”

He moves on to help unload the transports, and I do my best to ignore the tightening in my chest. There will be those who think this is a bad idea, that merging with another kingdom is a mistake, and maybe it will be, but as I watch Aeson continue to work, I have hope.

The king has remained here all afternoon.

Sweat glistens on the back of his neck, and streaks of dirt, likely from unloading the boxes my people brought with them, stain his once-pristine white dress shirt.

His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscles that pulse from the day’s labor.

Despite my doubts, his presence and effort serve as a reminder. While I might have seen glimpses of things that give me pause, Aeson’s actions today seem driven by genuine goodwill. For now, that’s enough. At least until I have a better grasp on the things that still feel unclear.

As the afternoon wears on, I speak with more of my people, hearing their stories, their struggles, and their hopes. Each conversation strengthens my resolve, even as it chips away at my heart.

The last family to approach me is a young couple. Their faces are bright despite the weariness in their eyes, and their hands are entwined as if holding onto each other is the only way they’ve made it this far.

“Your Majesty,” the man says, bowing deeply. “We can’t thank you enough for acting so quickly once the oasis emptied.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I reply, placing a hand on his arm. “This is what it means to be a pack. We take care of each other.”

He nods then smiles down at his mate, his grip tightening on the bundle of belongings he carries. “Still, it means everything to us. To have hope restored so swiftly.”

The words linger with me long after they’ve walked away. Hope . It’s a fragile thing, but perhaps that’s what we’ve all been missing.

By the time the last carriage is unloaded, the sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones within the courtyard. Aeson approaches me, a streak of dirt now on his forehead as well.

“You’ve been busy,” I remark, unable to suppress a small smile.

“It’s what we do,” he replies, his grin broad and genuine. “Your people are settling in well. They’ll be comfortable here in no time.”

The confidence in his words has an unexpected effect on me. The tension in my shoulders eases, just slightly.

“I agree, but I also need you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done,” I say, and I mean it.

Regardless of my wolf’s reservations and the things I felt I was picking up on, Aeson is everything I hoped he’d be—kind, capable, and dedicated, following through on each of his promises without hesitation.

I can either choose to focus on all the good that’s being done, or I can continue to look for the cracks.

I’m choosing the former. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to let down my guard, but today’s taught me that it doesn’t matter what might happen, only what is.

Right now, my pack is safe and they’re going to have everything they need for the time being.

Everything else will be handled as it comes, so there’s no point looking for trouble.

Once the crowd disperses and the area grows quieter, the weight of the day settles over me. My wolf is restless and needs space. Hell, we both do.

“I’m going to go for a quick run,” I tell Aeson, glancing up at the twin moons that are only half full tonight. “I’ll be back for dinner, though.”

“Of course.” He squeezes one of my hands. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” I say quickly, softening the refusal with a grin. “I just need a moment to myself after the busy afternoon.”

His gaze lingers on me, searching for something, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he nods and turns back to the remaining pack members, his focus already shifting back to the tasks at hand.

I’m surprised when he doesn’t try harder to change my mind, but again, that’s likely just my mind looking for a problem where there’s probably nothing to worry about.

I head toward the back of the castle, the cool evening air washing over me. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a stream are a welcome reprieve from the noise of the day.

My wolf pushes to the surface of my mind, her eagerness to be free a palpable force. Without hesitation, I relinquish control, allowing the shift to begin.

The first ripple of energy spreads through me, and I gasp softly at the familiar sensation.

My bones lengthen and begin to break before they’re reformed, my muscles stretching taut as they realign.

Fur erupts along my skin, onyx and silken, catching the silver light of the moons.

The air sharpens, every scent and sound snapping into focus as my wolf takes over.

When the transformation is complete, I’m on all fours, the soft pads of my paws pressing into the cool earth. My wolf stretches, shaking out the tensions she’s been holding onto. I expect her to take off toward the forest, to run as far and as fast as she can from the castle and its many burdens.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she turns back toward our new home, her ears pricked and hackles rising.

I try to guide her away, to urge her toward the trees and the freedom they promise, but my attempts are ignored.

Where the hell are we going?