The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 598: Proving Herself (II)

[Third Person].

Several elders nodded.

"Yes. A duel would silence every doubt."

"If she cannot dominate another wolf, how can she stand as Queen?"

"Strength must be visible." 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Half the chamber were now murmuring in support.

Draven stepped forward slightly. His presence alone quieted the room a fraction. But before he could speak, his father rose from his seat.

"There is no need for theatrics." Randall’s voice cut through the noise.

Immediately, all eyes turned to the former King.

"Meredith has fulfilled your stated condition," Randall continued evenly. "You said unless she has a wolf, she cannot be crowned. She has a wolf."

Then, his gaze swept across the elders. "Do not shift the goalpost now that you have been proven wrong."

A few elders looked uncomfortable, but Reginald did not.

"With respect, Lord Oatrun," he said smoothly, "this is not shifting the goalpost. This is ensuring stability. A Queen must command strength. If she cannot defeat a warrior of equal standing, how will she command a kingdom?"

Wanda stepped forward slightly now and bowed faintly to the council. "I would be honoured to demonstrate my loyalty to Stormveil," she uttered sweetly.

Her eyes flickered toward Meredith. There was no sweetness there, only hunger.

The chamber grew louder. Supporters of Reginald began speaking over one another.

"A duel settles it."

"It is tradition."

"We cannot gamble the throne on uncertainty."

Draven’s jaw flexed, and his aura began to thicken dangerously. "If this is about humiliation," he said coldly, "then abandon the illusion of fairness."

The room quieted again. But then, Reginald lifted a brow. "No humiliation, Alpha. Only clarity."

Randall watched silently now, his expression unreadable. He did not intervene again. He wanted to see how this unfolded.

Meredith stood calmly still through all of it, observing. She saw the division clearly now. Half the elders were retreating, and half were doubling down.

Reginald’s faction was growing louder, and Wanda herself looked radiant with anticipation. She believed she had been handed victory.

One elder struck his staff against the ground. "Order!"

The chamber settled, then he looked toward Draven.

"If the Luna refuses, whispers of this will spread."

Another added, "If she accepts and wins, all opposition ends."

The implication loomed heavily in the air. It was no longer about qualification, but about dominance.

Reginald folded his hands calmly. "Well, Alpha?" he asked. "Shall we settle this properly?"

Wanda’s eyes never left Meredith. She was already planning her moves, already imagining tearing the white fur beneath her claws. Already picturing the council chamber witnessing Meredith’s defeat.

The tense, divided chamber, balanced on the brink of open factional fracture, held its breath.

Through the matebond, Draven’s voice was low and controlled. "Tell me what you want, and I will handle the rest," he said to Meredith, seeking her opinion, despite his annoyance.

Meredith did not hesitate. "I will do it."

There was a pause in the bond—a beat of silence. Then Draven’s tone shifted to something colder and sharper.

"Do not spare her."

Meredith almost laughed. "I shouldn’t show all my strength today, she reminded him."

"I don’t want you to," he replied immediately. "But I want Reginald unable to lift his head again. Treat Wanda like your plaything. Break her rhythm. Break her pride. And before you finish, give her injuries that will keep her in bed until the coronation passes."

Meredith tilted her head slightly. "You want me to break her bones?"

"Yes." His answer was ruthless. "Break as many as possible. Tear important tendons and arteries. I am here. Nothing will happen to you."

She felt the fury simmering beneath his control. "Alright," she replied calmly. Then she stepped forward and addressed the council.

"I accept," she said clearly. "However, if I lose, you will still keep your original word. I have already proven I possess a wolf, which was your stated requirement for my coronation."

Her statement was met with profound silence. The elders avoided one another’s eyes and even refused to meet her gaze.

Meredith saw it plainly—they had intended to move the goalpost again.

Reginald’s lips curved mockingly. "Are you afraid, Luna?"

Before Meredith could respond, Draven’s voice cut through the chamber like steel.

"All elders in support of this demand—that my mate must duel Miss Fellowes to prove her strength—raise your hands."

Reginald’s hand went up first, then more than half followed. On the other hand, Randall made no move; he simply watched the scene unfold before him.

Draven nodded once. "Write your names," he ordered. "And sign beside them."

A sheet was brought forward. One by one, the supporting elders stepped forward and signed. Reginald signed boldly, pressing the quill down as if engraving victory into stone.

When they were done, Draven lifted the paper. His gaze moved from face to face. "Now," he said evenly, "you will not retract your words later."

Reginald smiled smugly. "There will be no need."

Another elder spoke boldly, "If the Luna wins, we will swear loyalty to your reign as King and Queen."

The chamber stirred, but Reginald was not finished.

"And if she fails," he added smoothly, "my daughter will be made the official Queen."

The insult struck like a slap on Draven’s face. And immediately, he stepped forward. "How bold of you!"

His aura thickened dangerously.

Randall finally intervened. "Reginald. You are stepping out of line."

Reginald bowed slightly. "I assure you, Lord Oatrun, I remain well within it." Then he turned to Meredith. "Do you still wish to proceed?"

Meredith saw what he wanted—public humiliation. She saw the spectacle he envisioned for her, yet she inclined her head slightly.

"I cannot allow you any further excuse to question my place," she said calmly. "I accept. On your terms."

Draven’s jaw flexed. He was barely restraining himself.

Across the chamber, Wanda’s confidence soared. She misread his anger entirely. To her, it looked like helplessness.

Just then, Reginald gestured sharply toward the guards stationed near the doors. "Summon witnesses," he ordered. "An important duel will commence in twenty minutes."

The guards bowed and hurried out as the chamber buzzed with anticipation.

Meredith felt the shift in atmosphere. Reginald thought he had arranged a grand humiliation for her—guards summoned, citizens watching, and her defeat echoing across Stormveil.

But in her mind, she almost pitied him. ’Unfortunate man,’ she thought. ’You chose the wrong battlefield and the opponent.’

Also, through the bond, she felt Draven’s fury still burning, and told him quietly, "I won’t disappoint you."

His reply came instantly. "I am not afraid of you disappointing me. I have absolute confidence in you. What angers me is their audacity. They insulted me, us, with this degrading demand."

Meredith softened slightly. "Compose yourself. Once we are crowned, there will be more than enough time to deal with them."

Draven inhaled slowly. "You’re right."

Across the chamber, Wanda was stretching her shoulders. She was both excited and overconfident, waiting for her moment.