Facing this delegation, I was relieved by our intimidating credentials. "Brave little mate," Sinclair murmured, his words making my smirk widen. "I'm glad you're not letting them see you're scared."

"Oh, I'm scared," I replied, without looking up. "But you're right. No need for them to see it."

He nudged me reassuringly as the first five Atalaxians stepped forward and bowed. The man on the far left began to speak, introducing himself—the most significant member—before presenting each delegate, who bowed in turn.

This formal introduction felt odd. Previous receptions had been warm and informal, with delegates introducing themselves warmly or greeting Sinclair and me as old friends. The Atalaxians, however, remained silent, letting their spokesperson do all the talking.

Rafe fussed in my arms. I held him closer, sending calming energy through our bond. He settled, resting his head against my chest.

The speaker finished introducing the first row, which included the expected ambassadors and senators. However, the second row revealed a Prince, surprising me. Why wasn't he in the first row? Shouldn't he be the highest-ranking delegate?

I watched the Prince bow, kicking myself for not catching his name. I'm a queen—or soon to be—and should have been paying closer attention.

He was about my age, tall, with dark hair, a handsome face, and surprisingly light blue-violet eyes. Though broad-shouldered, he was slimmer than Sinclair, yet radiated power.

I blinked, surprised. He was not someone to be trifled with. I sensed it instinctively. He nodded steadily to Sinclair, seeming serious but bored, as if he'd done this a thousand times. Then his eyes met mine, and he stiffened.

My eyes widened at his reaction. He stared at me for a long moment. Sinclair reacted instantly, a low growl building in his chest as he took a step forward.

The Prince recovered quickly, glancing at Sinclair before regaining his composure. He nodded to me, Cora, and Roger, then stepped back.

Confused, I looked at Sinclair, whose shoulders were tense. "What on earth just happened?"

The delegates were dismissed, and Rafe fussed again. I cooed to him, upset by his distress. My sweet baby rarely cried, communicating his needs through subtle taps and pulses down our bond. It was the best part of being a wolf mother—an aspect I hadn't considered until Rafe arrived.

"I think I need to take him out," I murmured, looking at the baby.

"A moment," Sinclair replied mentally, placing a hand on my back. "We need to be here for this delegation. If he cries, he cries." I nodded, understanding.

The third line of delegates departed, and the fourth stepped forward. I watched passively, my attention focused on my son, who was now crying. I held him tight, bouncing him, worried about his discomfort.

I sent a curious pulse down our bond, hoping for a clue to his distress, but received nothing. He was simply upset. My focus remained on Rafe, ignoring the final delegates, until the speaker's words startled me:

"Our final delegate," he said, "is Duke Xander of Moon Valley, given honorary citizenship in Atalaxia for his services as advisor to the King." My eyes widened. It was my uncle, the man who tried to steal my son.

Rage flared within me, fueled by Cora's own fear and protective energy. She held me back, preventing a rash reaction. It was the right choice, as Sinclair immediately stepped forward, glaring at the Duke.

"You should have asked," he growled, barely controlling his rage, "if this man was welcome. He is not. This man is a war criminal, wanted for several crimes—including the attempted kidnapping of our Prince." Sinclair took another step, ready to attack or arrest Xander, who simply smirked.

The Atalaxian speaker—a high-ranking senator—intervened. "Alpha Sinclair," he said, emphasizing Sinclair's pre-King status, "Duke Xander is a protected member of our delegation, an ambassador. Harming him would be considered an act of war."

Sinclair's growl deepened. "And did you think it wouldn't be war already, bringing him here after knowing what he did to us, to our family?"

"We hoped," the senator drawled smugly, "you'd be more reasonable."

Rage burned within me as I stared at Xander, who didn't even glance at me. Rafe wailed, perhaps sensing my emotions or Xander's malevolence. Cora's grip tightened, and I nodded once, reassuring her. She loosened her grip slightly.

Sinclair, to my surprise, stepped back. I had anticipated seeing Xander's blood on his claws, but remembered his soon-to-be-King status. War would result from killing Xander now. The responsibilities of rule required weighing vengeance against the nation's well-being.

I sent Sinclair a pulse of support as he stepped back, though my wolf clawed at me to unleash its fury. He maintained his glare and growl as Xander returned to the ranks. Hatred radiated from us all as the delegation departed. I kept my eyes on them, noting that only the violet-eyed Prince looked back—directly at me.