Defying the Lycan King (Kira and Derek) novel Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Where’s the Queen?

Back in Dravengard, the Queen’s Blessing Ceremony had begun at exactly eleven o’ clock, under a wide, cloudless sky. The grand temple square in Dravengard was packed with Lycans—elders in long silver robes, farmers in their best tunics, children holding woven baskets of grain and wildflowers. Soft drums rolled in the background while a group of young singers performed an ancient hymn about soil and rain and new life.

The air smelled of fresh earth, incense, and the faint smoke from the small ritual fires burning at each corner of the raised platform. This was the heart of the Queen’s Blessing Ceremony. Hundreds of pack members had gathered in the open-air plaza, making merry.

It was a beautiful display of culture, but Derek felt none of the joy. He sat in the high-backed chair reserved for the King, his posture straight, hands resting calmly on the carved arms. He wore a deep navy ceremonial coat with silver embroidery that caught the sun every time he moved. To anyone watching, he looked composed, regal, and in complete control.

Inside, he felt a slow, tight coil of irritation. His eyes flicked to his wristwatch again. 12:30. The ceremony had started over an hour ago, and Kira was not here. He scanned the crowd once more. No small figure with brunette hair, hazel eyes and that stubborn lift to her chin. Nothing.

The elders were already seated in a semi-circle behind him, their long white robes pooling around their feet. They were whispering among themselves, but Derek didn’t care to listen in. He knew what they were talking about. The Queen was supposed to be here even before the ceremony started and interact with the farmers. Every Lycan knew this rule.

This ceremony wasn’t just a tradition; it was a test of the Queen’s respect for the land and the people.

Nana, sitting in the seat of honour beside him in her elder’s robe of pale grey, leaned closer. Her voice was low, and meant only for him. "Drek," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the dancers. "Where is she? The farmers have already brought the first baskets of seed. They are waiting for her touch to begin the planting season. It is not good to keep the earth waiting."

Derek tightened his jaw. Leo was pacing, claws scratching at the edges of his control. "She is likely just finishing her preparations, Nana. She will be here."

Nana’s brows lifted slightly. "She should have been here from the start. The first blessing is meant to come from her hands."

"I know the tradition," he said quietly. "She is on her way."

Nana studied him for a moment longer, then settled back in her seat without another word. But Derek felt the weight of her silence. The pack was watching. The elders were watching. And every minute that passed without Kira made the absence louder.

He rose from the throne, his sudden movement drawing the eyes of the front-row spectators. He stepped off the dais and walked toward the shadowed corner of the stone pillars, away from the prying ears of the elders.

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and dialled Kira’s number. Pick up, Kira, he thought, his brow furrowing. Don’t do this today. Not in front of everyone. After a few seconds, it cut to voicemail.

’Hi, I’m Kira, I love you, but I’m not available right now. Leave me a message instead and I’ll get back ASAP.’

He ended it without leaving a message and dialled again. The call went to voicemail. Again.

He dialled again. Same result. His anger began to simmer, a hot, liquid heat under his skin. Was she doing this on purpose? Was this her way of protesting the marriage? To humiliate him in front of his entire pack by leaving him standing at the altar of the ancestors alone?

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