I entered the elaborate dining room at Sinclair's side, Rafe sleeping soundly in my arms. My face was composed; I lifted my chin and smiled slightly, presenting myself as my mate's unruffled queen, entirely unaffected by the morning's events.
Sinclair, walking beside me, projected a similar image: the unflappable Alpha King. His body, capable of the violence rumored among our guests, was refined by the mind of a true power player.
Our combined effect rippled through the room. Heads turned; eyes widened. We truly presented an image of formidable power.
A thrill ran through me. I usually considered myself sweet and determined, not powerful and imposing. But tonight, at Sinclair's side, it felt natural.
Cora and Roger entered behind us, followed by our personal guards. Many eyes turned to my human sister, considering her alongside her fated Alpha mate. Roger and Cora baffled many in the wolf community, who struggled to understand their pairing.
But one look at my stunning sister in her lavender gown—well, even without knowing she's a weather-controlling demigoddess, it made perfect sense to our guests.
As Sinclair and I approached our chairs at the head of the table, I noticed frowns and whispers. Despite our united front, dissenters remained among our supporters. My eyes immediately found the five Atalaxian ambassadors, dressed in black at the far end of the table. Sinclair had ensured my uncle's absence from this smaller, more intimate dinner, and I was relieved.
Still, I narrowed my eyes at them, wondering what they were planning.
"Dominic, Ella," Henry's voice called. He wheeled toward us. I grinned, leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and tilted the baby so he could greet Rafe while Sinclair greeted his father.
"I heard you had a rough morning," Henry said quietly as guests took their seats. "I'm sorry I wasn't there—"
"Please," Sinclair interrupted, waving dismissively. "We handled it. There's nothing you could have done."
"Still," Henry sighed, rolling to his place at Sinclair's left. "I'd have liked to see the man myself, assess him. But I'm sure I'll have more opportunities as the weekend progresses."
"Yes," I sighed, taking my seat as Sinclair pulled it out for me. "I'm sure you will." I held my sleeping baby close as Cora and Roger sat to my right. I looked up at Sinclair, who was still standing. A warm smile lit his face as he raised his wine glass and formally welcomed everyone to the palace, expressing his hope for fruitful conversations about the future of our nations.
I smiled, proud of my mate's seamless transitions between worlds. I'd seen him as father, mate, soldier, politician, and more—and he excelled in each role. My heart swelled; I couldn't have designed a more perfect mate.
I blushed, looking down at my baby, feeling incredibly lucky. I glanced around the table, pleased to see everyone focused on my mate, their expressions mostly warm.
But when my eyes fell on the Atalaxian prince...
I was shocked to find him staring directly at me. I blinked and sat up straighter, surprised. My shock intensified when he didn't look away, studying me expressionlessly, seemingly ignoring the speech to analyze me.
I grew increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze. Why was he so interested in me?
I stared back, trying to decipher his intentions. I jumped when the room erupted in applause. I bit my lip, ashamed to have missed the end of my mate's speech, but we'd rehearsed it the night before, so I knew what he'd said.
When Sinclair looked at me and tilted his glass, I beamed, offering my full support. His smile deepened before he turned back to our guests, toasting international friendship and a bright future.
Our guests responded heartily.
I raised my glass, genuinely hoping for a bright future. But when my eyes returned to the Atalaxian delegation, I saw cold eyes despite their raised glasses. I had a distinct feeling they would make our jobs very difficult.
The rest of the meal was pleasant, filled with conversation and delicious food. I passed Rafe to Conner to use a knife and fork, chatting with nearby guests. Cora's eyes met mine; we were united in our thought: the real challenge would come after dinner, at the after-party.
As dessert ended and the dinner broke up, I stood, feeling newly steeled for the evening ahead.
"You all right?" Sinclair asked, standing beside me. It wasn't a question of my composure, but rather my preparedness for what was to come.
"Perfect," I assured him, smiling brightly as Conner brought me Rafe, now awake and curiously surveying the room.
"All right, trouble," Sinclair murmured, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "Let's go get this done."