King and Queen Ella

"I'm glad we did that," I said later that afternoon as Sinclair pulled our car around to the front entrance of the palace.

"I couldn't stand to say goodbye to that house if it were to a stranger. Too many memories there."

"I agree," Sinclair said, parking directly in front. It felt… well, too informal for the future King's first entrance to his new home.

"Doesn't this place have a garage?" I murmured, checking on little Rafe in the back seat. He was happily chewing on his baby hoodie sleeve and staring at himself in the car seat mirror.

"I... think so..." Sinclair said, grimacing slightly. "I've only really been here for state occasions," he shrugged, "and the birth of our child," I pointed out.

"Well, for that," he said, "we also just parked out front."

"True, true," I said, turning to my door. "I guess we'll figure it all out."

"Yes, we will," he murmured, getting out and lifting Rafe's carrier from the back seat.

While I waited for them, I stared up at the magnificent palace. "I can't believe this is going to be my home," I murmured.

"I can't believe I'm going to be King," he sighed.

I looked up at him, studying his handsome face. "Yeah," I agreed. "Me neither."

Sinclair laughed and shook his head. "Well, I would hope you'd try to cheer me up a little."

I laughed and squeezed his arm. "Well, you know I think you can do it, and that no one else could do it better. I just..." I considered it, shaking my head, "...I don't know. I'm not going to be able to get used to people calling you King."

"Will you be able to get used to people calling you Queen?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I laughed at the absurdity of it. "Absolutely not," I replied. "They'll all just have to call me Ella, or I'll walk right past them without realizing they're talking to me."

"You don't do so poorly responding to Luna," he said, pulling his arm away and wrapping it around my shoulder.

"Yes, but that feels more real," I said quietly. "I know what a Luna's supposed to do. I want to protect my pack, help them in all things."

"I imagine Queen is much the same," he said softly. "You'll get used to it. And you'll be great."

"Do I get a crown?" I grinned, but my face fell when he slowly nodded. "Wait, seriously?" I said, eyes wide. "I get a crown?"

"It's technically not yours," he replied, laughing. "It belongs to the nation, to be passed from Queen to Queen. But, for as long as you're alive and we're on the throne," he grinned, seeing my excitement, "you get a crown."

"Well then let's go!" I shouted, heading up the steps. "What the hell are we waiting for!"

To my disappointment, Sinclair didn't immediately take me to the crown jewels. "Not until the official coronation, my ass," I muttered angrily, cutting the tape on probably my fortieth box and unloading Rafe's baby clothes.

Rafe, in his playpen, let out a squeal, which I interpreted as support. "Thank you, Prince Rafe," I called to him.

"I agree. He's being cruel."

"I am not," Sinclair laughed, entering with a tray of food. "I'm just following the rules. It's not really a kingdom precisely anymore; the jewels belong to everyone. It's not right to wear them until the people have officially given them to us. And then," he said, setting down the tray, "only on state occasions."

"Again," I sighed, looking up at him, "this is a rule that I will choose, in my wisdom as Queen, not to follow." And then I sent him a mental image of when, precisely, I planned to wear that crown, and how good I'd look.

Sinclair blinked and laughed. "Fine," he said. "One exception can be made. One."

"One to start," I said primly, returning to my task.

"Come and eat," he said, removing the lids from our sandwiches, like we were in a hotel. I was pleased he'd hired a head chef. Still, I didn't even know where the kitchens were, and it felt strange to be waited on. What was I going to do when I was pregnant again? Just wander the halls, starving?

"I'm not hungry yet," I said, laying out Rafe's clothes and disassembling the box. I did take a moment to look around the main bedchamber. "Remember the last time we were here?" I asked quietly, taking in the windows and floors. We'd replaced much of the furniture, but still... I'd never forget the day we brought our baby into the world.

"Vividly," Sinclair murmured, biting into his sandwich and watching me. "Are you sure you still want this to be our bedroom? We have options."

"Yes," I sighed, looking around. "I'm sure. It's... fitting."

"This is a King's bedroom for sure – and you are a King!"

"Not yet," he said, shaking his head.

"You keep saying that," I replied, frowning. "Is there something wrong? Are you doubting the coronation?"

"No," he replied, cocking his head. "I just... want everything to be right. Damon and his father... they took liberties they shouldn't have. It wasn't right."

"I know," I said quietly, watching my mate struggle. "But you'll be better."

"I hope I can be," he sighed. He looked over at the baby. "And I hope I can convince him to be as well, when his turn comes."

"Rafe?" I said, surprised. Then I smiled. "No, he'll be a great Prince! And a wonderful King!" I laughed, crawling to his playpen and grinning at my little boy. "How could he not be? He's so sweet!"

Sinclair smiled, then shrugged. "Every tyrant was once a well-loved little baby whose mother thought they were too cute to do anything wrong."

"Yes," I sighed, picking up my baby. "But we'll raise him right." I kissed his head, sending him love.

"We'll do our very best, Rafe," Sinclair said, smiling. "We can promise you that."

"So," I said, holding my baby, "what's next? We're in the palace, awaiting a coronation. What do we have to do?"

"Well," my mate said, looking at me seriously, "I've got politics and meetings to attend, and a palace and nation to get going. But you... Ella, I want you to do what you please."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "I don't just want to sit around – I had enough of that during bed rest. I want to help you—"

"I know," he said, laughing and taking my hand. "But I don't want to give you tasks. I want you to pick your own projects. Your instincts are excellent. I have my own ideas, but I know you do too."

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure I do... yet." Honestly, it probably made me a bad Queen, but I hadn't given it much thought.

"Well, you will," he said, nodding. "And when you do, I want you to follow them. But in the meantime, if you'd like a suggestion..."

I nodded eagerly. "What do you think about planning a wedding? A big one, very public."

I wrinkled my nose, confused. Then I leaned forward. "Sinclair," I said, shaking my head, "we already did that. I know a mating ceremony is different, but we—"

"No," he laughed. I couldn't help but smile. Sometimes he was so beautiful when he laughed it took my breath away. "I'm not talking about us."

"Then who?" I asked.

"Roger and Cora," he said quietly. "I think it could be good for the nation to see a wolf marry a human. Even if she's... not precisely as human as we thought she was. What do you think?"

A huge smile broke out on my face. His laugh told him precisely what I thought. "I love it," I whispered. Then I squealed in excitement, spinning and laughing with joy. "A wedding! A wedding for Roger and Cora!" I absolutely cannot wait.