The after-party was nothing like the disaster I’d braced myself for. I had spent the entire morning mentally preparing for a full scale revolt, expecting the demon lords to stand up and scream their protests the second the crown touched my head. But as the celebration dragged on, the reality was much more unnerving. Despite the clear, heavy tension in the air and their obvious unwillingness to accept a wolf as their queen, they stayed perfectly quiet.
They moved through the flower-covered grounds with a polished, eerie grace, sipping nectar and talking in low tones. It was the kind of silence that felt like a predator holding its breath. The thought that they were simply biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike when I finally let my guard down, was honestly much scarier
