Chapter 1
The Queen Without a Mate
The Silvermoon Pack had never been known for its weakness.
Its territory stretched across thousands of acres of protected land, surrounded by dense forests, mountains, and a river that separated its eastern border from neighboring territories. The pack had one of the strongest warrior forces in the country, a reputation for loyalty, and a royal bloodline that had existed for centuries.
But six years ago, everything changed.
Their former Alpha and Luna were killed during the Great War, leaving their only daughter to inherit a throne nobody expected her to take so young.
Zariah Veyne was eighteen when she became Queen.
At twenty-four, she was no longer the frightened girl who had stood beside her parents’ graves, wondering how she was supposed to lead an entire pack.
She had learned.
And she had learned the hard way.
“You’re not seriously considering this.”
Zariah didn’t look up from the documents spread across her desk.
“Good morning to you too, Talia.”
“Don’t good morning me. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, and you’re still looking at those ridiculous reports.”
Talia Reed walked into the office, dropping a thick folder onto the desk.
She was Zariah’s Beta, her closest friend, and one of the few people in the pack who could speak to her without worrying about royal formalities.
“What happened now?” Zariah asked.
“Another disagreement at the eastern border. Two of our warriors caught unfamiliar wolves crossing the territory.”
“Did they identify themselves?”
“No.”
“Then why are we still discussing this? Have them detained and questioned. Nobody crosses our borders without permission.”
“Already handled.”
Zariah finally looked up.
“Then what’s the problem?”
Talia folded her arms.
“The problem is that you’re going to the gathering next week.”
Zariah leaned back in her chair.
“That isn’t a problem.”
“You’re meeting with the three strongest packs in the country. Bloodfang’s Alpha has been looking for an excuse to challenge your authority for months.”
“Then he’ll have to find a better excuse.”
“Zariah.”
“Talia.”
They stared at each other.
Talia sighed.
“You know what? Sometimes I forget you’re actually twenty-four.”
“And sometimes I forget you’re my Beta, not my mother.”
“Unfortunately, someone has to keep you alive.”
A small smile appeared on Zariah’s face.
It disappeared when someone knocked.
“Come in.”
The office door opened, revealing a tall, silver-haired man dressed in a dark suit.
Dorian Kade.
He had served her father for years before becoming her royal adviser. When Zariah inherited the throne, Dorian remained by her side, helping her navigate the responsibilities of leadership.
He had been there during her first council meeting, her first border dispute, and every difficult decision that followed.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted.
“Dorian. What is it?”
“The invitation from Blackthorn has arrived. Their Alpha will not be attending personally.”
Zariah raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Alpha Victor has reportedly been unwell. His son will represent him instead.”
Talia exchanged a look with Zariah.
“His son?” Talia asked.
Dorian nodded.
“Dante Blackthorn.”
Zariah returned her attention to the documents.
She had heard the name before.
Everyone had.
Dante Blackthorn was known throughout the werewolf territories. He was the eldest son of the most powerful Alpha alive, a Dominant Alpha whose reputation extended far beyond his father’s territory.
He rarely attended pack gatherings. Most of his time was spent managing business overseas and handling matters that other Alphas preferred not to discuss publicly.
Some called him ruthless.
Others called him dangerous.
Zariah didn’t particularly care.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
“Only that Alpha Ronan of Bloodfang has confirmed his attendance.”
Of course he had.
Ronan Voss had never hidden his dislike of Silvermoon’s leadership.
“Wonderful,” Zariah muttered.
Dorian gave a polite smile.
“I would advise you to remain cautious. The other Alphas may use this gathering to question your position.”
“My position isn’t up for discussion.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Then we’re finished.”
Dorian bowed slightly before leaving.
Talia waited until the door closed.
“Something about that man bothers me.”
Zariah glanced at her.
“You’ve been saying that for years.”
“And I’ll continue saying it.”
“He’s been helping this pack since before I was born.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
Zariah shook her head and returned to her work.
She had bigger problems to worry about.
By late afternoon, Zariah stood on the balcony overlooking the Silvermoon territory.
Below her, warriors trained in the courtyard while pack members moved between the main residence and surrounding buildings.
It was a peaceful sight.
Something she had worked hard to protect.
She rested her hands against the balcony railing.
You worry too much.
The familiar voice sounded inside her head.
Zariah closed her eyes.
“Not now.”
You haven’t eaten.
“I’ll eat later.”
You always say that.
A quiet laugh escaped her.
Her wolf, Nyra, had never been particularly patient.
Unlike most wolves, Nyra rarely showed interest in other wolves. She didn’t chase attention, didn’t seek companionship, and had never reacted to another wolf in a way that suggested recognition.
Zariah had never experienced heat.
Never felt the pull of a mate.
Never experienced the overwhelming desire that other she-wolves described.
At first, she had wondered whether something was wrong with her.
She had visited healers, spoken with older she-wolves, and even consulted the royal records.
Nothing.
Eventually, she stopped asking questions.
Perhaps the Moon Goddess had other plans for her.
Perhaps she simply wasn’t meant to have a mate.
She had a pack to lead, warriors to protect, and responsibilities that left little room for loneliness.
Still, sometimes, when the residence became quiet at night, she wondered what it would feel like to have someone waiting for her.
Someone who wasn’t waiting for orders.
Someone who wanted her simply because she was Zariah.
Not because she was Queen.
Not because of her bloodline.
Just her.
We aren’t alone, Nyra reminded her.
Zariah smiled faintly.
“I know.”
Three days later, the preparations for the gathering were underway.
The meeting would take place at Blackthorn’s neutral conference estate, a property situated between the territories of several major packs.
It was an old tradition.
Once every year, the strongest pack leaders gathered to discuss territorial disputes, trade agreements, security concerns, and matters affecting the werewolf community.
Zariah stood in front of her bedroom mirror while Talia adjusted the back of her dress.
“You’re going to make half those Alphas uncomfortable just by walking into the room.”
“Good.”
Talia laughed.
Zariah wore a fitted black dress with long sleeves and a modest neckline. A thin gold necklace rested against her collarbone, and her dark hair fell in loose curls down her back.
She wasn’t interested in looking intimidating.
She simply refused to look like she was asking anyone for approval.
“Your guards are ready,” Talia said.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Before leaving, Zariah paused beside the framed photograph on her dresser.
Her parents stood together in it, smiling.
Her father had one arm around her mother’s waist, while her mother held a younger Zariah against her side.
She touched the edge of the frame.
“Wish me luck.”
For a moment, she remained still.
Then she turned away.
She had spent six years learning how to live without them.
She wasn’t going to let anything take away what they had left her.
Not another war.
Not another enemy.
And certainly not a gathering of arrogant Alphas.
Zariah Veyne was going to that meeting as Queen of Silvermoon.
And everyone in that room would remember it.
