The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 619: Annual Hunt (II)

[Third Person].

By midday, whispers had already begun among the trees. By sunset, irritation simmered openly. When the horn sounded to signal the end of the hunt, the participants returned to camp dragging their game.

The clearing stirred with anticipation as the kills were counted. Then the final tally was announced.

The Fellowes siblings and three other wolves had the highest count.

A ripple passed through the crowd. Some impressed, some resentful.

Draven’s expression did not change. He rose from his seat, regal and composed. "As promised," he declared evenly, "Stormveil rewards excellence."

Then, gold tokens were presented, and public recognition granted. Applause followed—measured but audible.

People whispered as the winners stepped back.

"The Fellowes blood is still strong."

"They are not weak."

"Perhaps their fall was political."

Reginald stood among the observers, posture calm, eyes bright with contained satisfaction.

On the royal platform, Meredith watched Wanda closely. The victory had put colour back in her cheeks. Hope flickered there.

’This win has given them something to hold onto,’ Meredith thought quietly.

Just then, Valmora’s voice brushed through her mind. "They can only keep hoping."

Draven resumed his seat beside her. Through the matebond, his tone was low. "Do you sense anything?"

Meredith extended her awareness carefully. The forest felt normal and celebratory. There was no hidden malice or brooding danger pressing against her senses.

"No," she replied silently. "But something about today feels off. I just can’t explain it."

Draven’s jaw tightened slightly. "Reginald looks too pleased," he responded. "And yet he hasn’t moved or attempted to leave this camp once."

Meredith’s gaze drifted toward the man in question. "Or are we keeping watch on the wrong person?" she asked softly.

A small pause followed as Draven thought about it deeply. Then, he answered, "That may be what he wants. We will continue watching him. But we spread our eyes wider so we leave no blind spots."

Before Meredith could reply, a movement drew their attention. Reginald had approached the platform. But the guards immediately stepped forward and halted him at a respectful distance.

Instead of protesting, he bowed. "Your Majesty," he said smoothly, addressing Draven. "I thank you for honouring your word and rewarding my children."

Draven’s gaze remained steady. "They merited the reward," he replied. "Stormveil does not deny skill."

Reginald bowed again. "Then Stormveil is just."

There was no tension or defiance in his manner. Then, he turned and walked away.

Meredith watched his retreating back and exhaled slowly. ’I hope I am not worried for nothing,’ she thought. ’Because Grandma cannot be wrong.’

At the same time, the forest buzzed with laughter and music as the evening celebrations resumed.

Wanda stood slightly apart from the main circle of celebration with a goblet in hand. People had approached her and had spoken with new respect.

"You hunted brilliantly."

"Stormveil needs strong wolves like you."

Every word fed her pride. She accepted their compliments with controlled grace, nodding modestly, even offering a small smile when necessary.

But beneath that calm exterior, her bitterness towards Meredith and Draven remained untouched.

Draven had rewarded her publicly while Meredith watched silently. Although they neither humiliated her nor refused her the rewards she deserved, that restraint somehow felt worse than open mockery.

Just then, Levi approached her quietly. "We proved the people wrong, and once again, entered their good books."

"For today," Wanda replied. Then, her eyes drifted toward the royal platform, now dim under lantern light. "This changes nothing."

Levi studied her but said nothing more.

Not far away, Reginald observed his children with measured satisfaction. The hunt had restored a fragment of their standing. Enough to rebuild momentum and to keep their name alive in conversation.

Just then, he caught Wanda’s gaze briefly and gave a small nod. Patience, that was what his eyes conveyed.

Finally, when the celebrations thinned and the fires burned lower, Draven rose first with Meredith standing beside him, and together they departed the clearing with their guards.

One by one, nobles and spectators followed. By the time the moon rose high, the forest had grown quiet again.

---

A Few Hours Later...

Back at the palace, Meredith lay beside Draven in their chamber. He had fallen asleep quickly, almost as soon as they finished dinner and freshened up together in the big tub.

Although there were still important concerns, he had intended to tease Meredith once they were on the king-sized bed, but he ended up being caught unawares by intense fatigue.

Now, one of his arms draped protectively over her waist. But Meredith did not rest easily. Though she was equally exhausted, her thoughts lingered on Reginald’s calm expression, on her grandmother’s warning, and on the strange unease that had followed her all day.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and then the dream came.

Meredith saw herself standing in the forest again, but the clearing was empty this time. There was no music or lantern. Just cold wind and a crimson-tinged sky.

Draven stood several paces ahead of her, and Reginald stood behind him. A spear pressed to Draven’s throat.

Reginald’s laughter echoed unnaturally through the trees. "Finally," he sneered, his eyes wild, "you are in my hands!"

Meredith tried to move, but her feet would not obey. She tried to call out to Draven. For help, but no sound left her mouth.

Then, right before her very eyes, the spear pressed closer, and a thin line of red appeared at Draven’s neck.

Reginald’s laughter grew louder. And just then, Meredith jolted awake in the dark and silent bedchamber. Her breathing was sharp as her heart pounded in her chest.

Draven stirred beside her, instantly alert. "Meredith?"

She pressed a hand to her chest, steadying herself. "It was just a dream," she said softly.

"What kind of dream was that?" Draven inquired, his brows furrowed as he squinted his eyes. But Meredith shook her head.

"Can we talk about it in the morning? I’ve been confused and worried all day, and now, I’m not about to lose my sleep over a stupid dream."

There was a small pause, then Draven nodded. "Okay. Then, let’s go back to sleep."

And with that, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her to lie back down on the bed.

This time, Meredith snuggled into Draven’s arms. It was only when she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest that she drifted back to sleep.